Inheritance

“I was a soldier, so that my son can be a farmer, so his son can be a poet”

-John Quincy Adams, paraphrasing his father, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson

Chapter 1: 2003

Dr. Ben Lamarck came home early afternoon. He was wearing a battered, yellow flannel shirt and had three days’ growth on his face, but otherwise, he simply looked tired. He was feeling all of his 65 years lately. King Minos, his beagle, looked up with saucer eyes, batting his tail on the throw carpet. He leaned over and scratched the fur on its’ head, massaging the old scars, and scooped him into his arms. He kicked off his shoes and shuffled in his socks toward the kitchen, while King Minos licked Ben’s face.

“What are we going to eat, Minos?”, he whispered into his ear.

“Dad! Come check this out!”

He poked into the TV room, seemingly crawling with teenagers. In fact, there were only three: his son, Oscar and two schoolmates, but the debris of backpacks, milk cartons, Oreo packages, and electronics filled all empty chairs in the room.

“Sarah, Gene, this is my father,” he announced proudly. Ben nodded and smiled, lazily lowering King Minos to the floor, who skittered across the linoleum floor to the kitchen.

“Check this out, Dad! Remember when I wrote a program to send an email to my pager? Well look at this thing: it’s called a Blackberry. It just came out. It’s got a keyboard and everything, so you can email back.”

Ben’s eyes lit up, while he poked at the keys.

“It was about $360.00, but I’m guessing they can get that down in a year or so. The company is called Research In Motion. They are selling thousands to business travelers. The PE ratio is not too high for a start up.”

Ben simply said, “Good one. How much are you in for?”

Oscar whispered to his father, “Ten grand, but this is gonna’ be Big, Pops! How about matching me?”

Ben nodded again. His face swelled with pride, “This one is easy. Put me down for 25.” He pulled out a roll of bills, flipped out $400 and handed them to Oscar, “… and get me one of those Blueberries.”

All eyes in the room were frozen on the father/son investors.

Ben surveyed their audience, and announced, “Nice to meet you all. I’m starving. You all have fun.”

He grabbed his son by the shoulder to hug him sideways, whispering to him, “Quite a pair on that one!”

“His son, let out a breath of exasperation, “Shit, dad! She’s only sixteen.”

“I wasn’t thinking of me, dummy.”

After he left the room, Gene’s jaw stretched long, “You have the coolest Dad … ever!”

Oscar blushed. “He does his best to embarrass me.”

. . . . .

King Minos was yelping in the kitchen… barking at the storage freezer. Ben smiled, “Oh! You want the good stuff!”

Ben wandered over, lifted the lid, took out a tub of vanilla ice cream and a heavy spoon. He dug out a huge chunk into the dog’s bowl, pulled up a chair next to the dog, and proceeded to eat the remainder from the box.

As the dog was gulping down the last bit, Ben said, “Are you OK with going back to the lab, King Minos?”

The dog stopped lapping for a moment, looked directly at him, cocking his head.

“There is so much to learn.”

King Minos padded over and pushed his head on his thigh, looking up with sad, warm eyes. Ben reflexively resumed stroking the scars on his head.