If Bill Gates could do it why couldn't I? I called my attorney and told him I wanted to set up a fund like The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. I was ready to be a philanthropist.

"How much will it cost me?" I asked.

"Hesh, the issue is not money," he said. "You have sufficient assets with the sale of your business to set up a small foundation. You need to realize that giving away your money wisely takes commitment and focus. Being a philanthropist is a serious endeavor."

"Sure, sure, just do the paperwork and I will handle everything else." I had stopped listening.

I had big plans; there were diseases to eradicate and disadvantaged kids to educate.

At the club, I asked a few of the old guys who had inherited their wealth for advice. They suggested I hire a consultant specializing in non-profits and she would help me commission a first class study of the community's needs.

Who had the patience for studies? I decided to give it away myself.

I called the local paper and suggested they do a story on my decision to give away my money. The philanthropy reporter suggested I begin with a major dinner or even better a masquerade ball. This way he could get lots of photos of my pals into the paper.

I thought the guy was joking. "I don't want to spend money on a ball with tuxedos and bands. I just want to start giving away my money," I said.
He suggested I be careful or I might be typecast as one of those alternative charities that are trying to buck the establishment.

"I am not out to buck anyone," I said. "They all do good work. Just let me do mine."

The reporter did give me some good advice. He told me not to try to find a cure for some major disease. "Find a small project and test the waters," he said.

So I started small. I chose to adopt a road, specifically a section of Route 18. I even decided to keep it very low key and I only adopted the alternate truck route.

I wanted to do it right. We planted flowers, repainted the yellow lines a newly designed high gloss yellow, and added reflective metal strips in the ground to help visibility. I even replaced the guard rails. They had been knocked down so often that the city had stopped replacing them.

Then I got a surprise visit from an inspector for the Highway Adoptions Council. He wanted to see my official adoption papers.

"What?" I asked.

"You can't adopt a highway without our approval," he said. "We have an arduous background check process. You must be cleared of any history of road rage before we accept you. And there is a long waiting list to adopt the best roads."

"That's the point," I said. "I don't want to adopt a brand new road with six inches of reinforced concrete. I want to help the roads no one else cares about."

"Mr. Reinfeld, that road was part of our strategic plan and would have been assigned a donor within two years. You need to be patient." He said.

I was incredulous. "And if I don't follow your plans, what are you going to do to me? Tear up the improvements I've paid for?" I said.

"No," he answered. "But we will inform the IRS that your donations were not approved by our organization. They may challenge your foundation's tax deductible status."

And it got worse. I had repaired a road in a highly contested congressional district. The media was screaming that my donation was really an illegal contribution to support my favorite candidate. I could be brought before a grand jury.

I was a failure as a philanthropist. I called my lawyer and asked. "Did Bill Gates ever have problems giving away his money?"

He said. "Of course not, he actually listens to his advisors."

I said. "Now I know what differentiates me from Bill Gates."

He laughed and laughed. I hung up. But I knew he was still laughing.

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