We occasionally receive letters from folks heading off on nice trips who say they haven't had time to change their official documents, but they want us to have their current wishes in writing in case they don't make it home. Sometimes those revisions are quite substantial and they're already on their way before I can tell them that trying to change things that way isn't going to work out. Sure, if they don't return safely, their families may decide to abide by those last-minute wishes, but the law isn't going to recognize them if they haven't been executed with the required formalities of the original documents. So, plan ahead about those important issues, just like making sure your passport is up to date.

I also suggest that even if your documents are carefully drafted and executed, there are some things that shouldn't be included at all. First and foremost is that if you have precise instructions about immediate post-mortality issues like organ donations or whether to be buried or cremated, don't put them in a will or other documents that might not be consulted until too late to carry out your wishes. Likewise, because wills are public documents that get filed where anyone might see them, don't include sensitive information that you might not want published in the newspaper. All of those issues are much better communicated to your loved ones ahead of time or, if that's not your style, at least left in a separate, sealed envelope somewhere likely to be discovered in time to carry out your wishes to a T. If we've prepared your documents, you probably have a nice blue binder of copies somewhere handy, and in the front pocket of that notebook might be a convenient location for your final instructions.

One other point that came to light as I wrote this has to do with safe deposit boxes. Not nearly as many of us have them as in the past, but if you do, make sure the right people know that, as well as where you've stashed the keys and what they will find in there. Also see that you've made arrangements for those same people to get access to the box after you're not around to sign them in. Just having the keys or having access only with a power of attorney while you're alive won't get them in there once you're gone. We've recently had to obtain court approval for a child to get into a parent's box, just to see whether there's anything of value there. We don't know yet, so it could be full of Krugerrands or just some moldy life insurance policies that expired in the '90s. Don't send your family on what could end up an expensive wild goose chase. Remember when they opened Al Capone's secret vault - and there was nothing in it? It may have made for good TV, but that's about all.

People also figure they might simplify their affairs by giving their residence property to their children ahead of time, even while the parents continue to live there and pay the taxes and insurance premiums. That's certainly generous, but short-sighted, as the children will take the property at the same tax value that their parents had, which may be significantly lower than its current value, particularly if the parents have owned the home since the kids were tykes. However, if this is something the parents really want to do, the better way is to reserve in the deed the right of the parents to continue using the property for their remaining lives (whether they actually use it or not). Those strings attached will mean the property still receives a new, current tax value when the parents are gone, which in turn will wipe out all that accumulated appreciation, and there won't be any capital gain to pay tax on if the children then sell the property for that updated value.

Ah, and then there are those pesky obituaries. I'm not suggesting you necessarily write your own, though that's a better way to ensure you'll be known more for your volunteer work for countless local non-profits than for your collection of fridge magnets. But if that's just too morbid for you, at least make an outline of the critical information you'd want a sympathetic wordsmith to convey about the essence of your time among us. I mean, even though you may not be the type to boast about your background or accomplishments, once you're gone everyone should finally know that you landed with the first wave on Omaha Beach, or that you were the first person to be recognized as your school's best teacher a dozen times, or that your ancestor was Thornton Wilder or Amelia Earhart (wherever she may have ended up).