When a man I know disinherited his daughter because she married out of the faith (forty years earlier), he gave her what he thought she deserved, a slap in the face. What he could not have anticipated was the impact of this decision on his other children. Her two brothers fought: one wanted to contest the will and divide the estate evenly, and the other wanted to follow their father’s wishes (and not give up a penny of his inheritance). They never spoke again.

People have every right to leave their money however they like, and to whomever they choose. But an unequally divided estate can permanently harm relationships in the next generation.

Competition between siblings, for the parent’s love and money begins in the nursery and lasts a lifetime. One woman told me that her sister counted out the number of potato chips their mom put on their plates, to be sure their portions were equal. Another complains that she got a scholarship to college, while her parents shelled out the money for her brother’s schooling. She’s thinking about demanding reparations. Cars, privileges, tuition, and wedding size, all turn up on the list of who-got-what. I think that before some genius invented spreadsheets, kids had little cells in their brains, computing parents’ time, money, attention, and of course potato chips. I think the question behind all the comparing and calculating is, “How much do I count?”

Parents need to be aware of this when they are making their wills, especially if they want their legacy to include the continuation of the family and its values. Here are some considerations.

Choosing a favorite child to get more than the others will make the others hate the favorite, instead of resenting your decision.

Disinheriting a child will make the others feel conflicted and guilty about their right to their share. They will find ways to fight and separate.

Leaving a business to one child without making the estate even for the rest will breed dissension and envy.

One man I know, after hearing his  father’s divisive will, asked the lawyer, if he knew the damage the document would wreak on him and his brothers. The lawyer shrugged—he was following the old man’s wishes.

So if you’re thinking that you can right the wrongs done you through your will, think again. These decisions may have terrible unintended consequences.

I have been thinking about the trend in schools and camp to discourage kids from having best friends, and it worries me. So I wrote a blog on PsychToday about it. Check it out. http://bit.ly/cWSD9J

My neighbor here at the beach is a wise woman. A single mother with four kids, she developed strategies to deal with the fights between them. “Let me know when you’ve settled it,” she would say as she walked out of the room. Eventually they did. She had of course set rules about physical and emotional abuse, but within those parameters, she let them alone.

Her second terrific strategy took place at the dinner table. She and the kids sat together to make the family decisions. The five of them would come up with a solution that they all could pretty much live with. The kids developed a sense of fairness and the ability to negotiate, which has served them well.

When people worry about the fights between their kids, they are tempted to intercede and have a say in the outcome. But my research into siblings has taught me that, with some guidance and some limits, kids do better as adults if they learn to settle things between themselves. I also found that kids who are given joint projects—and the dinner-table decisions were joint projects—form better relationships in adulthood. This kind of cooperation lasts a lifetime and the habit of working together turns out to be useful when the parents begin to age and need their children’s help.

When I was a kid, we spent our summers in a cottage on a lake. There was electricity, but no running water. We had a pump, and the ice man delivered great chunks of ice every week or so. We bathed in the lake and used the two-seater outhouse. My mother and our friend managed to cook us three meals a day on a hotplate and large electric roaster.

Michael and I had the responsibility for the dishes. This was complicated. We had to pump the water, heat the kettle on the hotplate, and pour the water into the large tubs, one for washing and one for rinsing. We fought over who got to dry, but that was nothing compared to the fun we had, composing little skits of rebellion over the dishes or making up our own lyrics to show tunes, to let the adults know how hard our job was. With dishtowels appropriately draped, we two performed songs of protest long before the Civil Rights movement.

My brother and I have had our ups and downs, like every other pair of siblings, but the memory of washing and rinsing, drying and singing is a bond that has lasted us a lifetime.

Parents are always worried about how their children get along. We always want the best for our children, and sometimes we forget that they are watching our not-so-perfect relationships like hawks, drawing their own conclusions about the difference between what we say and what we do.

Some kids watch our travails and vow they won’t repeat them. One woman told me that she and her sister were heartbroken to watch their mother and their aunt sue each other over Grandma’s estate. “We won’t let it happen,” she told me, “ we have agreed that our relationship is more important than any material goods.” I hope that she and her sister hold that idea for the decades of their parents’ lives. But even the desire to stay together on this issue is an important first step to staying close.

One of the most interesting facts I discovered doing research for Mom Still Likes You Best is the effect of working together. I met a brother who actually changed jobs and relocated to live in his brother’s city, so they could spend more time together. They were always in synch, I learned. I usually asked about car rides, since everybody remembers vividly that epitome of the sibling relationship. This young man’s parents gave the boys cooperative tasks in the back seat: one would spot the barn, the cow, the interesting license plate, and the other would note the information down in a pad of paper. This small moment of cooperation, instead of the more common competition over spotting cows, barns, and license plates was emblematic of their closeness. So was their collaboration in Grandma’s kitchen: they learned to cook at her knee, and they worked together at the pasta machine. The fact that they are accomplished cooks improves their bachelor life, but from my point of view, it’s the shared experience that is priceless.

I recently heard from a woman who was preparing an apartment in her house for her brother, who was arriving the next day for a six-month stay. He had been with their sister for the past nine months. An airplane pilot, this man had been in a terrible accident and suffered severe brain damage. His sisters were sharing his care while he went through rehab. This responsibility did not weigh heavily on this woman.  In fact, she was pleased to have the resources and time for her brother. She didn’t see this as a burden because she wasn’t alone. Both sisters were ready to do whatever they could to help their brother.

It doesn’t matter how old you are; brothers and sisters who find a way to work together create a bond that lasts the rest of their lives.

So, if as a parent you want your kids to be closer, start by finding small opportunities for them to work together. It could be in the back seat of the car, or in Grandma’s kitchen, or in a million other places that you know better than I.

I am beginning work on my next book, Secrets and Lies: The Price We Pay When We Deceive the People We Love. Everybody keeps secrets—that’s part of how we live. But sometimes a secret can be a burden to carry. I am interested in exploring the impact of secrets on our families and on our lives. Some secrets are kept through the generations. Others seem to explode when lest expected.

If you have lived with a secret you have kept, or if you have learned only later of a secret kept from you, I would love to interview you. The interviews are taped and last about an hour. If I write your story in the book, I will do my best to disguise your identity. The interview can be done in person or on the telephone.

If you would like to be interviewed, please fill out the bottom of this page and send it to me, or email it to me at janeisay@yahoo.com. If you know someone who might want to be interviewed, would you be kind enough to pass this request along?

We know far too much about the deceptions of politicians and celebrities, but I hope this new book, with your help, will be of use and comfort to ordinary people, whose lives have been complicated by secrets.

Thank you.

Yes, I would like to be interviewed:

Name: ______________________________________________________

Address: _______________________________

City, State, Zip: ___________________________________

Email: _______________________________________

Phone number ___      Please don’t call me after __ pm or before __am

Age___________________ _________________________

I can be reached at janeisay@yahoo.com, .

I wanted to share with you a piece I wrote for a wonderful new website, www.motheru.com, which deals with intergenerational issues among the women in the family. Check out the site–it’s excellent.

A friend of mine just showed , Mom Still Likes You Best, to her two daughters. Two gift boxes are on the cover, a large one next to a small one–suggesting the inequity that many children feel.

“I’m the small box,” one of them said, “No, it’s me,” replied the other. They got into enough of a tussle that my friend took the book out of the room.

How old are the daughters? One is 45 and the other, 50.

As parents, we all know about sibling rivalry—from experiences with our own brothers and sisters—and through the intense competition between our children. We know that many grown kids still have little computers in their heads, keeping track of every dollar and every minute we spend on, and with, each of them.

Sibling rivalry eventually extends down the generations, too, when the kids start having kids.  And while every grandchild is welcomed with fanfare, if we really peer down into our heart of hearts, we usually admit that the first grandchild has a special place. That child is the one who introduces us to the infinite joy of loving a baby, who teaches us to be grandparents, and who is our pilgrim to a future we will not see.

Accordingly, no matter what each of our adult children has accomplished or offered us, the one  who produces this cherished first grandchild usually wins the Mom-loves-me-better sweepstakes. But it doesn’t always happen that way.

One mother I interviewed–we’ll call her Valerie–was thrilled when her son and his wife were expecting.  Everyone was in synch: anticipation was high, and relations were relaxed and fun. But when the baby was born, the parents and the new grandmother locked horns over feeding issues, bedtime, and how they dressed him. Tensions mounted and never let up. Valerie’s visits diminished, but it broke her heart.  She was never allowed to see the baby alone.  Her son and daughter-in-law acted as if she didn’t know how to change a  diaper or work a stroller. It was terrible.  Valerie loved the boy, but he could have been any cute baby, not her first grandchild.  She could never spend enough time with him to develop that special closeness.

Then her daughter had a baby.  Finally, Valerie got what she had always dreamed of: The parents let her baby sit.  She’d pick up the baby up early in the morning and take care of her so that her daughter and son-in-law could sleep in.  It was heaven.

Did Valerie’s son and his wife notice her relationship with grandchild #2? Were they jealous of the time she spent with the new baby? Valerie hoped so, because she wanted her son and his wife to vie for her attention, thereby giving her more access to her grandson.

It didn’t quite work out that way, but it did work out.  The first grandchild – the one whose diapers Valerie had never changed, who had never had a relaxed stroll with her, nor was never left alone in her care – grew up.  And as it turned out, he fell in love with his “Nonna.”  Eventually, he, too, claimed his place in his paternal grandma’s heart.   Today, he loves being with her. He still doesn’t see her that often, but when he does, he jumps into her arms.

Grandkids have great power to heal a family. They don’t know the tensions; they are ignorant of the history. And they can sense a loving heart a mile away.

On May 19 I was interviewed by Joy Cardin on her wonderful Wisconsin Public Radio show, and there were a lot of call-ins. The questions showed a high level of sensitivity and intelligence. It was a pleasure.

One of the callers was a man whose parents immigrated to this country, and he wondered aloud what was wrong with America. In his big family, everybody was in constant touch with each other, all the siblings, the aunts, the uncles, and the cousins. This family looked out for one another. Always. He said that if he found himself in a city where one of his cousins lived, he would at least call just to say hello. He’d phone from the airport if he were passing through. He was puzzled by the disconnect between most American families he knew.

As I listened to him I wished we all were so close and involved with each other. I have noticed two different attitudes in this respect: some  families prefer to spend much of their time with each other, and others would do anything rather than hang out with their families.

At least two factors are involved here. The first is generational. If your parents journeyed to this country and lived through all the difficulties that immigrants usually experience, your family may tend to stick together. This was as true for the pioneer families who settled the West as it is for today’s newest arrivals. But by the time a family is in its third or fourth generation here, people blend into the general culture and enjoy a more atomized set of relationships.

Then there is the geographic factor. If you live in the same city as your family, you’re more likely to spend time with them. And, conversely, if you don’t care to be with them, you may choose to move away. In this same radio show, a number of callers told me that they get along well with their siblings—so long as they are hundreds of miles away.

I think that families experienced a great Diaspora in the second half of the 20^th century, when people moved to the suburbs or changed cities to follow their careers. Economics and postwar theories of psychology may have played a role. When the economy was in growth mode and everybody was making out well, family ties didn’t need each other so much. People followed opportunity wherever it led, and they didn’t rely on relatives. And for fifty years, people were advised to blame mothers and families for whatever was wrong with their lives.

Today, with the economy in trouble, and a more complex theory of family dynamics at play, it may be all right for us all to believe that we can come home again, and to realize that even if things aren’t perfect with our relatives, our families might be just as good or better than the alternatives.

Parents are always worried about how their children get along, even as they may not be speaking to their own brothers and sisters. It’s not an unusual situation in family life: we always want the best for our children, and sometimes we forget that they are watching our not-so-perfect relationships like hawks, drawing their own conclusions about the difference between what we say and what we do.

Some kids watch our travails and vow they won’t repeat them. One woman told me that she and her sister were heartbroken to watch their mother and their aunt sue each other over Grandma’s estate. “We won’t let it happen,” she told me, “our relationship is more important than any material goods.” I hope that she and her sister hold that idea for the decades of their parents’ lives. But even the desire to stay together on this issue is an important first step to staying close.

One of the most interesting facts I discovered doing research for Mom Still Likes You Best is the benefit of working together. I met a brother who actually changed jobs and relocated to live in his brother’s city, so they could spend more time together. They were always in synch, I learned. I usually asked about car rides, since everybody remembers vividly that epitome of the sibling relationship. This young man’s parents gave the boys cooperative tasks in the back seat: one would spot the barn, the cow, the interesting license plate, and the other would note the information down in a pad of paper.

This small moment of cooperation, instead of the more common competition over spotting cows, barns, and license plates was emblematic of their closeness. So was their collaboration in Grandma’s kitchen: they learned to cook at her knee, and they worked together at the pasta machine. The fact that they are accomplished cooks improves their bachelor life, but from my point of view, it’s the shared experience that is priceless.

Older siblings have the opportunity—or challenge—when the parents are old and need their help. Brothers and sisters who find a way to work together cooperatively develop a bond that lasts the rest of their lives.

So, if as a parent you want your kids to be closer, find small opportunities to substitute cooperation for competition. It could be in the back seat of the car, or on a visit to Grandma, or in a million other places that you know better than I.

This week I’ve been interviewed on television and radio about what’s in Mom Still Likes You Best, and the most frequently asked question, I guess because Mother’s Day is upon us, is, “How can parents make their children love each other?” “They can’t do that,” I replied. “You can’t legislate how your kids feel about each other.” But  I went on to say how parents can create an atmosphere where their children are more at ease with one another, and so have better relationships in the long run.

Here are some of the factors that are in our control.

We can be fair, not favoring one child over another.

We can stay out of their fights, separating them before they hurt each other, but letting them learn how to resolve their differences.

We can try to even the playing field for them, so that no one of the children is always behind the 8-ball. One mother I know gave her clumsy daughter dancing lessons, and got her mop-haired little girl a really good haircut.

We can understand the fact that sometimes they will hate each other, and sometimes adore each other. Strong feelings between siblings are natural, and angry feelings from children don’t mean the end of a relationship. Brothers and sisters help teach us how to settle disagreements and handle our strong feelings, negative and positive.

And finally, we can remind them that at the end of they day, their sisters and  brothers are all they’ll have in the world. That truth can help bring perspective to the tumultuous feelings that brothers and sisters constantly arouse in one another.

On Mother’s Day, there’s no greater gift for a mom than seeing the love between her children, I promise you.

In the course of interviewing people for Mom Still Likes You Best, I encountered a number of patterns of sibling ties, but one special relationship stands out: The sisters who have appointed themselves guardians of their brothers. Not just younger brothers (“I raised my little brother,” these women told me), but older brothers as well. All their lives, these sisters are committed to the wellbeing of their brothers.  One older sister told me that she first understood the meaning of true love when her baby brother was born. Another just naturally looked after her little brother from the time he could walk. Some sisters taught their little brothers to read, others taught them to dance.

The younger sisters who mothered their older brothers also started young, picking up where the parents left off, or dealing with a crisis overwhelmed that the parents. But even after the parents are gone, their dedication and devotion to these brothers endures. There’s something unique about this relationship, because these sisters put up with everything—unpaid loans, crazy behavior, and angry outbursts, to name a few. They don’t react the way most siblings do.

I have come to think that as little girls they found themselves mothering their brothers long before they knew what it was to be a mother. So they became what they believed a mother should be: perfectly loving and caring.  Now we know that ideal relatives are the creation of wishful creatures. And we also know that reality is the antidote.

For these sisters, the brother’s wife is often that reality. I have met young women who are struggling to achieve friendship with their brothers’ new wives, because they know how important it is. They understand that a brother’s happiness trumps differences in family style, religion, and politics. In some instances brother’s the wife poses a different reality. She may not care for the family, and she may be jealous of her husband’s closeness to his sister. Navigating that takes patience and tact—but most of these sisters know that so long as she doesn’t ask her brother to make a choice between his two favorite women, things can putter along.

These sisters deserve medals, and the brothers should be wearing a sign that says, “Lucky Guy,” because as far as I can tell, there’s nothing like a sister who always has your back.