Tomorrow would have been my father’s 86th birthday, so I have been thinking about him. One story came to mind recently, a story I told him on my last visit with him, just a few weeks before he died.
Here’s the background:
My father and me on my wedding day
When I got married in November 1977, as a wedding present, my parents gave me the money they’d planned to spend on my last year of law school tuition. My father told me of their decision as we walked through their neighborhood one evening.
“You’re on your own otherwise,” he said. “You’ll have to figure out your living expenses with your new husband.”
That made sense to me—I couldn’t expect my parents to support me if I was married. So my husband and I managed on students’ budgets until we graduated. My husband had his Naval Reserve pay and G.I. Bill money. We had good summer jobs, and we survived without too much angst. We graduated from law school with no money left, but then we started our professional lives with good jobs in Kansas City.
Well, it’s not quite true that we had no money left. I still had some of the tuition money that my dad had given me. It was in my old bank account in my name.
Since my husband and I had attorney jobs to look forward to, my husband and I decided I should buy PG&E preferred stock with the remainder of the money my parents had given me. It made me feel good to have a “nest egg” I could tap on my own, in case I ever needed emergency funds. And in 1979, a preferred utility stock seemed to be a pretty safe investment.
For forty years, through thick and thin and ups and downs, I kept that PG&E stock. Some years I cashed the dividends, some years I reinvested them. But I never sold any of the original shares.
PG&E went bankrupt in April 2001. By that time, I was well-established in my career, and I shrugged at the probable loss of my small investment. But in 2004, PG&E emerged from bankruptcy, and the preferred stock even began paying dividends again.
On my last visit to see my father, in December 2014, he said during one of our conversations, “I always resented that you spent some of the tuition money I gave you for living expenses.”
“But I didn’t,” I told him. “I bought PG&E stock with the leftover funds. I still have it.”
“You do?” He seemed surprised.
“Yes,” I said. “And I kept it in my name.”
He smiled. “Well, that makes me feel better.”
So I was glad I told him.
My parents and me a few years before they died
The rest of the story is that after my parents died, I wanted to make a charitable gift in their memory. I knew they had a strong interest in Catholic education. I decided that giving away the PG&E stock that they had given me so many years ago was the right thing to do.
I had some discussions with a couple of institutions my parents had supported during their lives, but nothing seemed appropriate. My mother the librarian and my father the engineer would have liked to see their money go to something related to books and/or STEM programs. But even after I explained their interests, one institution wanted to put my money toward a parking lot. That wasn’t how I wanted to recognize them.
About two years after my parents died, the Catholic school in my parish asked for donations to support a new reading program. The amount needed to cover the program was about the same amount that my PG&E stock was worth. Finally, I’d found something that felt like the right gift. So I donated my PG&E stock to the school. The stock was sold, and the reading materials purchased.
I think my parents would have approved, and I’m glad I figured out what to do with the stock before PG&E went bankrupt again earlier this year.
What stories are you glad you have told?
