A good natured man-A tale from the
past
John James was a good natured man.
A bachelor, he had lived alone for forty
years after the death of his mother.
And, like many a bachelor before him,
felt himself grow more isolated as he
aged. His health had been deteriorating
for the past few years. Arthritis seized
his joints, and for no good reason his
teeth began to ache, and ache.
John James had a mortal fear of dentists,
and he didn't have much trust in doctors
either. A horrific experience with a
tooth puller in his early years had
left a gaping hole in his jaw bone,
and as time passed the left side of
his cheek fell in leaving that side
of his face with a permanent tilt. After
that he never went near a dentist, even
the younger ones with their new fangled
drills and pain-killing anesthetics.
"I didn't have any teeth when
I came in, and it won't bother me if
I don't have any when I go out,"
he'd say.
One by one his teeth began to fall
out. Mind you, this didn't happen in
a short space of time. And one by one
his joints grew stiffer and stiffer.
Came the day he realised his days were
numbered, and for the first time he
thought of what the world would think
of him when he was gone.
Not that it really mattered, since he
had outlived most of his generation.
With only a few cousins left, and a
number of nephews and nieces, some of
whom he had never seen, he was, to all
intents and purposes, bereft of family
relations.
They had all stopped coming to see
him years ago. To them he was a self-centred
old man, always complaining, never satisfied,
always going on about the faults he
saw in others. A visit with him was
a trying time, and when they left they
felt drained. Truth to tell, they had
passed the point of caring whether he
lived or died. Anyway, there was no
point in caring. John James had no money,
no possessions anyone would want, and
if the old bugger snuffed it, so be
it. His passing would hardly be noticed.
How to change their perspective? How
to make his passing something for them
to remember? These were the questions
that now began to occupy his mind. How
could he make up to them for his own
behavior over the years?
If only he had money.
Well, he didn't have wealth. But supposing,
just supposing, he had money how would
he bestow it?
John James died on a Monday. By Tuesday
phone calls had been received by the
cousins and the adult nephews and nieces,
phone calls from a solicitor no less,
informing them of his death, when the
burial would take place, and, wonder
of wonders, when and where his will
would be read.
"John James had a will? I don't
believe it!"
"All I can say at this stage is
you'd be advised to be present."
There were arguments, conjectures,
and the examinations of conscience that
lasted well into the night in the various
households where the message had been
received.
Two days later every living relative
of the deceased gathered in the solicitor's
office at the appointed hour.
First, a letter was read, a personal
letter written in scribbly handwriting
by John James himself. In it, he expressed
sorrow for the miserable treatment he
had shown them, hoped they would forgive
him, and would now know how he wished
to make amends. Then came the will.
"To my cousins £100,000
each.
"To my nephews £100,000
each.
"To my nieces £100,000
each.
"The balance of my estate to
.."
and there followed a list of charities.
The relations were dumbfounded. What
had John James been hiding from them?
Where did he get such vast sums of money?
What estate?
From a separate envelope the solicitor
withdrew another piece of paper.
"This," said he, "is
the estate. To be divided as stipulated."
It was a sweepstakes ticket. And it
had cost John James all the spare cash
he had.
As I said, John James was a good natured
man. It wasn't his fault that the horse
which his ticket drew fell at the first
fence in the Grand National at Aintree.
Somehow his relatives thought otherwise.
Home
| About
| Canadian Vindicator
| Literature
| Gallery
| History
|