Not long ago, I heard a man make his will, an oral will, what the lawyers would call a nuncupative will, spoken and not written. The man, who had been unwell for some time, sat at a table in the cafeteria of the homeless shelter with a few other men. He owned precious little but did have a good blanket, a portable radio, an old Barlow pocket knife, and whatnot. He spoke their names and said what each was to have. The men nodded, the world shifted a little on its axis, and they helped him back to his bunk.