A story of another family inheritance

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Growing up I was always told to be nice to my grandmother’s brother Jim.
“Jim has money,” my mother, grandmother and aunt would tell me. “If we’re
nice to him, maybe he’ll leave us some when he dies.”

Even as a kid I knew this was a bad plan.
Uncle Jim was a middle school vice-principal. The sort who loves having
power over kids. (I’m not saying they’re all like that. Just that I know
a few.)
He knew this promise of money gave him power over his sister and her kids
and made them dance to his tune for it.

He tried it once with me.
I live about 2 miles from him, but never visited. After one Thanksgiving
my mother asked me to drop off some turkey for him on my way home.
“Can you do me a favor?” he asked. “I’ve got a window shade I can’t get
down. Can you look at it?”
“Sure,” I said. (He was in his 80’s at that point, so I figured that was
something he might have trouble with.)
I went where he indicated and pulled down the shade.
“Can you take measurements of it and all the others?” he asked. “Then get
replacements made and bring them back and put them in?”
“Nope,” I said. “I’m afraid I’m way too busy to do something like that.
Hope you enjoy the turkey.”
I left.
My mother complained to me that now I might not get anything when he died.

About a month before he died, he called a family member who was a lawyer.
He asked about a will and what would happen if he died without one.
The cousin went into great detail about how it would end up as a battle in
probate court, the state would take a large chunk and everyone else would
have to fight over what was left.
“Do you want me to come over and make up a will for you?” he asked my uncle.
“No. I just wanted to know what will happen,” he said and hung up.

The week before he died, he summoned my grandmother.
“I’m going to die soon,” he told her. “But, I want you to have these.”
He handed her the keys to two safety deposit boxes.
“You must promise me you won’t open them until I die,” he said.
“I promise,” my grandmother told him.

She, my mother and aunt camped out at the hospital waiting.
As soon as the doctor confirmed he was dead, they jumped in the car and
drove to the first bank.
My uncle’s body was still warm when they opened the safety deposit box and
found it full of rubber bands.

The trip to the second bank revealed a box full of paper clips.

My mother got REALLY mad at me when I laughed about this.
I’m sure he died with a smile on his face.

Edited to add: When all was said and done he was worth more than $2 million when he died. My grandmother got about 1/2 million out of it. Her kids totally fought over that tooth and nail. They had all spent their shares in less than a year.