relates to you, I want you to know that my brother bequeathed to me 75,000 shares of Gold Coast Petroleum stock, which added to the 25,000 shares I already own, makes me a 50% owner in the company. Now let me read the part relating to you. You may love it or hate it, but it’s what your grandfather wanted.”
Now to the son of my son, Eric Dutch Clarke, III, who has defied me with his attitude about education, the family business and life in general. In spite of this, I know in my heart of hearts he is the blood of me and the soul of his father and shall truly become a man, in every sense of the word in the Clarke family. Therefore, I bequeath to him all the remaining assets of my estate, cash, securities, 100,000 shares of my business Gold Coast Petroleum, the home known as Fairview with all its furnishings and all other personal and private property contained within. This bequeath is made with only one reservation, which is that he, under the certification of my executor, will perform his family mission, if he has not already done so, starting within one year of my death. The mission will be defined as one year of survival, totally alone, in a wilderness area of his choice, packing in only what can be carried on animals, as both his father and I did. If my executor cannot certify, for any reason, at the end of the mission that the adventure has not been completed as to the terms and conditions set forth, then this bequeath will be given to the Mormon Church of Salt Lake City, Utah. If this mission has not been completed by the time of my death and until it can be completed under these terms and conditions, my executor will have complete control of this part of my estate. I say to my Grandson again, go into the wilderness and return a man... a better man.
Uncle Roy put down the papers and added,
"The first part of the Will has to do with Hazel, Buck and myself. The last part has instructions on paying and transferring his assets through the probate courts. You can read the whole document if you wish."
He handed it to me. I sat there for a moment holding the blue bond papers, thinking about what my response would be. Placing the document back on the desk, I turned to Uncle Roy and said,
"The Mormon Church? I knew that both Grandfather and you came from a Mormon family. But neither of you have ever practiced the Mormon faith that I can remember."
Uncle Roy reached for a cigar and began to prepare it for smoking. He cut the tip, looked up and replied,
"You’re right, there. I was as surprised as you are when I read his terms regarding your bequeath. Our mother was Mormon, but our father nothing as far as I know. After Mother died and Senior and I moved east, we never talked about the Mormon faith again.”
Standing, I began walking around the room with nervous energy, holding my hands behind me. Stopping, I looked back at Roy, who was now lighting his cigar and said, "It doesn't matter. All this ‘mission’ stuff is just so much crap. I’ve always told you and Grandfather that I would never go on such an adventure. I don't want, or need, Grandfather's money, I have over $5,000 upstairs in my room. I made that money in just five months of fishing, so you can keep his damn bequeath. This is just so much shit!
Roy was surprised at my language and looked directly at me, blowing out some blue and white smoke as he replied, "I, I, I. There seems to be a lot of I’s in your life. You certainly talk like a fisherman, but can you think like a man? Anyhow, we’re talking about a lot more money than some lousy five grand. But Dutch, it's not about the money; it's what he wanted you to do for him, a way that he could be proud of you. You know, we all can't go through life just doing what we want to do. Sometimes we have to think about others and what they want."
Smugly, I cut him off, "Look, Uncle Roy, I know where you’re coming from. I wish I could, but I can't and won't."
With fire in his eyes he raised his voice a little louder, "Dutch, if you won't do it for your grandfather, then how about thinking about me?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, think this out. How might I feel about having the Mormon Church as my business partners? Do you think that thought pleases me? The last thing I need are some holier-than-thou folks running around our refineries. How about doing this for me?"
His statement caught me off guard and I shook my head as I sat back down. Panic welling up inside me.
"Uncle Roy, that's a low blow! You know how I feel about you. I would do almost anything for you. But what the hell do I know about surviving in a wilderness? I’ve never been on a horse, except for a pony ride in Central Park as a kid. Besides fishing up north, I’ve never killed an animal and I’ve never shot a gun. I don't know the first damn thing about living, let alone surviving in the backwoods."
Roy looked over at me with a slight grin, "It was the same with your father. Do you think he was born with all those outdoor skills here in the east? No way. Senior sent him out west for training. You remember us talking about the Lazy K Ranch in New Mexico? I still know Red Reed, who owns and operates the ranch that trained your dad. I'm sure he’d do for you what he did for your father. It was your dad who told Red there just might be oil on his property, and sure enough, he found oil right were your dad told him to look. He might be a little older now, but I am sure he and some of his cowboys can get you trained."
He was smiling a bit now, but he still looked determined and his eyes were burning my soul.
"All right... O.K." I replied, trying to find a new excuse. "Maybe I can be trained, but we are overlooking one little problem. From what I read in the newspapers, the government will soon be requiring all men from 17 to 35 years old to register for the draft. Seems there just might be a little war in Europe."
Roy turned serious again.
"Look, any war in Europe will be Mr. Roosevelt's war, not ours. Both your Grandfather and I have listened to Charles Lindbergh on this subject and he thinks the Germans and English will soon come to peace terms, making all this war talk just so much bunk. In any event, all men will have a maximum of one year before they have to sign up. If Congress, and that's a big if, passes the law before you leave, you can sign up. And if it's passed after you leave, you can sign up when you return. That is, if you feel you must sign up for Mr. Roosevelt's war."
I knew how both Grandfather and Uncle Roy felt about President Roosevelt and his administration and Uncle Roy wasn’t going to let me use that as a way out.
Now I was in a bind. I didn’t want to give in and was furious that even in death, Grandfather could still dictate my future. I didn’t know what else to say or do. Standing up, I started walking around the room again, my mind racing. Who in their right mind would do such a mission? Was I to find more gold… more oil? No… no. If only life was so neat and simple. Uncle Roy had always been there for me, and like he said, maybe it was time I thought about someone other than myself. Just maybe there were too many “I’s” in my excuse.
As I sat back down across the desk from Roy, my mind was still reeling. I started to talk, but he cut me off.
“I have something for you, Dutch.” Reaching into a side desk drawer, Roy pulled out a gold pocket watch on a gold chain and slid it across to me. “When I was going through Senior’s personal effects, I found this old watch. It’s the one he gave to your father when he went on his mission.”
Picking it up, I clicked the cover open. Inside I found a clear crystal protecting the face of a very old moment with Roman numerals. Above it, inside the cover, was an etched lighthouse, with the engraving of my dad’s name and date of birth. Turning it over I found two more words etched on the back. The first word was Rimor and just below it, Votum. The words looked to be Latin.
Closing the cool golden cover, I
