If my father was dead and I passed up $110k for the back strip of the yard where he planted some fucking trees, he’d come back to life to chastise me.
If my son passed up that money over some trees I planted, I’d be furious he learned nothing.
Sentimentality is for women.
Neighbor: “Would you consider selling me that strip of your backyard?”
My Dad: “The part behind the trees?”
Neighbor: “Yes. About eight feet along the boundary.”
My Dad: “Why?”
Neighbor: “I’m trying to expand my lot. It would make a big difference to the layout of my property.”
My Dad: “I’m not interested.”
Neighbor: “I’d pay you $55,000.”
My Dad: “Still no.”
Neighbor: “$85,000.”
My Dad: “No.”
Neighbor: “$110,000.”
My Dad’s wife looked at him.
My Mum: “Are you serious?”
My Dad: “Yes.”
My Mum: “She just offered us $110,000 for a piece of the backyard.”
My Dad: “I know.”
My Mum: “Then why are you saying no?”
My Dad: “Because my father planted those trees.”
My Mum: “Your father has been gone for almost 20 years.”
My Dad: “I know.”
My Mum: “And?”
My Dad: “I grew up playing under those trees.”
My Mum: “It’s still just land.”
My Dad: “Maybe to you.”
She didn’t say anything after that.
My dad turned the neighbor down.
Three weeks later, the neighbor came back with a surveyor.