Even then, I could not open a letter from a lawyer without a sense of foreboding. More often than not, legal correspondence brings the prospect of trouble.

But in this case, to our great surprise, my wife was informed that she had been mentioned in an uncle's will and that, upon returning a signed statement, she would receive an inheritance.

Weeks passed while we waited, dreaming of a substantial down payment on a house, a trip to Europe or perhaps a second car. At long last the letter arrived. It contained a check for $64, her share of a modest estate of Uncle Rob, who, alas, had many nieces and nephews.

Still, it was a windfall that, wisely spent by my wife, bought the gravy ladle, the carving knife and fork in our sterling flatware, with $5 left over, with which we splurged on dinner for two at Balentines Cafeteria.

The recollection of that inheritance is prompted by e-mail messages notifying me that I am heir to several sizable estates.

"Help me claim and distribute my funds of $58 million to charity as I have been diagnosed with esophageal cancer that defies medical treatment and have only a few months to live," writes a Mr. Simon, address unknown, implying I am to share his millions upon his demise.

A few days later, a Dr. Wesleem Saleen weighs in: "I have been waiting for you since to come here and pick up your package which contents your $1,500,000. But since I did not hear from you, I have deposited the money with UPEXPRESS COURIER SERVICE here in Benin Republic."

I was advised to send $120 in cash to the service to pay for delivery charges and insurance.

Then comes a note from, supposedly, the Central Bank of Ireland, informing me that I am a beneficiary of an estate valued at no less than 1,700,000 euros.

The writer apologizes for the delay but reassures me that "the square peg is now in the square hole," and my share of the fortune will be processed as soon as I provide certain personal information, including the number of my bank account.

As many of you know, inheritances -- real or fake -- do not guarantee happiness. They frequently generate greed, anger and resentment that can rip apart family relationships. Feuds of long duration have been begun over who gets great-grandma's Star of Bethlehem quilt or the best tilled acres of the family farm.

Remember how Jacob deceived his father into giving him the inheritance intended for his brother Esau, causing years of estrangement.

I doubt that Anne Hathaway ever got over husband William Shakespeare's bequeathing her the "second best" bed. (Wonder who got the best bed.)

Barack Obama, in his memoir "Dreams From My Father," discusses in length the lifetime resentments among his Kenya kin over the settlement of his father's estate, meager though it was.

Too often, we measure our "inheritances" by their monetary value only. I frequently think of the late restaurateur Red Balentine's radio ads promoting his famous buttermilk pie, which I too frequently savored at his Cameron Village cafeteria.

Red said that when his parents were writing their will, he asked that, instead of 40 acres of rich bottomland or even the house, he be left only Grandma Balentine's buttermilk pie recipe.

The recipe and the pie generated not only a business benefit to Red, but also great satisfaction to the thousands who for decades enjoyed his pie and his endearing personality.

Although monetary windfalls are usually welcome, let us not discount our less obvious inheritances: Perhaps brown eyes or curly hair. A strong sense of right and wrong, self-confidence and independence. A sensitivity to nature. A respect for each other as human beings. A sustaining faith in God and our fellow man, as complex and controversial as that faith may be these days.

And not least, an inherent common sense that tells us never ever to send our bank account number to some stranger in Benin or the Netherlands with the expectation of receiving a $1,700,000 inheritance!