Stock Security

My mother had a powerful, irrational refusal to admit anything about her finances, even property I knew about. I once asked her about what happened to some government bonds she used to have, and my simple question set off a week of dementia-fueled tantrum-throwing about how she never, ever had any such thing, even though I knew she did. I can now confidently say they’re no longer around, so they must’ve been cashed a long time ago — but even if she forgot all about them, she could’ve just admitted as much. 

I could never get across concern for such behavior to medical professionals. First of all I couldn’t say her behavior was unusual when an explosive temper was normal for her. Second, my attempts to discuss her rages tended to be met with, “That’s common with dementia,” as if that was all that could be said or done.

Popular California writer Gerald Haslam has written of his mother’s irrational behavior after a stroke, and fortunately for him, a doctor explained, “Sometimes with older people symptoms of mental illness are passed off as senility or just the results of aging. But that’s wrong.” The doctor referred his mother to a psychiatrist and, along with a new medication, she improved. 

I was never able to find that level of care for my mother, and her failure to share her financial situation with me caused additional hardship. My father at least let me know what accounts he had and where. My mother didn’t, so I had to slowly discover what finances she left me to deal with, like Alice traveling down the rabbit hole. I was vaguely aware of some stock, but I was left to puzzle over what turned out to be a complicated stock portfolio. Some holdings I recognized as being part of her divorce settlement, while other investments had been added — and subtracted — over several decades.

My probate lawyer turned management of the stocks over to a fiduciary for a leading financial services firm, and I’ve found the arrangement satisfactory. After my mother’s death I was first left with a room full of financial papers and a pile of stock-dividend checks made out to my mother, but once the fiduciary began managing the portfolio, things got much simpler.

I’ve never had any interest in the stock market — I could care less whether stocks go up or down, what’s a good investment or a bad one. What I do appreciate is how the stock dividends supplement my Social Security, providing me more income than Social Security alone.

Now that I’ve been through probate, I own what used to be my mother’s stock in four companies, all of which have some connection to the aerospace industry, thanks to what she got in the divorce. I get their annual reports and I’m entitled to vote on proposals presented at shareholders’ meetings.

“Shareholder” has never been a goal that I’ve placed a priority on achieving, but now that my mother — dementia and all — has left me some stock security so far as my personal finances go, I look forward to becoming more informed about the role I, as a shareholder, may play in corporate accountability.