63 Bucks

I thought I could save you for a lifetime and pass your immeasurable stock down to my offspring. Yet another investment that returned a seed. How false this conclusion has turned out to be; a crooked portrait I can’t afford to straighten while physically present.

While holding the previous years still, Im brought back and made aware of my projections that were so blindly rich.
Like the always silent investor, the background was your office. For thirty-three summers I witnessed your suave for swag in its purity.
Adapting I tried; succeeding at it I failed.

However your finances were not always understood by other board members.
Some thought your spending was too taxing; too silent to make the Forbes list.

I on the other hand always understood your bottom line and how your quotas always had a long term gain: family.

As I got older I was promoted to executive among the bloodline. A true seat at the table. You slid over in joy as our Alma Mater linked our yearly board meetings.

Like the eldest tree that departs it’s leaves, you soon became a retired advisor; a near imitation that I could borrow jewels of millions from to salvage the harsh winters.

Then one day the leather on your seat started to depreciate and your voice rescinded without a vote.
I gasped at the thought of our beloved company budgeting your absence.

Members assumed you’d greet my successor; my heir not yet existing.
Instead you bought out your siblings for that billion dollar valuation of heaven.

If the reader of these words could ever articulate outside this quarterly meeting and see beyond the debt of surface, then you may never worry about my financial woes or questionable future.

For this is not a rant to bailout but yet a tribute to a life I witnessed for free. One that in passing I donate equity to; so much value an audit couldn’t calculate.
For their our many that sign with their first name but few who pen their last name like Buck.

R.I.P. Uncle Jerry aka “Buck”
1959-2022

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