Recently, I've been "friended" by all sorts of folks who embrace what one bedraggled English teacher has called the "verbing of America." (That's a transgression of syntax and grammar where, without apology, a noun is converted to a verb and then inflicted on the recipient of a message!) The practice is an unquestionable byproduct of our digital age. It is in this context - that of our rapidly morphing e-existences, where many of us face uncharted evolution into digital beings - that we also confront some intriguing legal questions.

Ever-increasing chunks of our personal lives today are stored not in file cabinets or safe deposit boxes but on-line behind a wall of encryptions and password restrictions. That includes wealth and assets, such as bank and stock accounts; thoughts conveyed by e-messages and blogs; personal medical and health records; and, of course, sentimental possessions such as photos and videos.

What happens to our digital assets after death?

While some estate attorneys have dismissed the matter as far-fetched and even esoteric, I'm not so certain. E-property and all of its ramifications already manifest a deep, almost pervasive impact in our lives, regardless of age.

Recently, the Wall Street Journal suggested that there is a need for on-line estate plans for traditional folks and tekkies alike. Its analysis focused on the difficulties that heirs or executors may encounter trying to access sensitive personal data that the deceased stored on-line. Indeed, who hasn't been forced to compile so many passwords, and to change them so often, and to store them so randomly on scattered Post-its, that on any given day you would be hard-pressed to find those keys to e-assets? Without log-in information, some even posit that survivors could need court authority to access a decedent's on-line accounts.

In the very least, it may be necessary to both protect sensitive data while alive and at the same time find a way to ensure that heirs have access to that account information. This awareness has prompted the emergence of a digital cottage industry which allows subscribers to store log-in and password information in secure, cloud settings and concurrently to provide for releasing that information to appropriate parties upon death.

Beyond access, there arise questions about who gets control of digital assets.

Consider a specific scenario. I enjoy reading the collected letters and correspondence of all sorts of famous individuals - presidents, diplomats, authors, artists, inventors. I also have a friend, a prolific writer, who has abandoned pen and paper in favor of e-letters. She also tweets and uses Facebooks on occasion. What happens to her e-correspondence when she dies? Who gets access to it? How? Who owns it? And exactly what is "it"? What is the nature and value of "virtual" property?

Generally, the providers of on-line services play key roles. Some have clearly established policies; some don't. Facebook, which harbors a trove of information, "memorializes" the pages of someone who dies and limits access. G-mail allows a fiduciary to control an account but requires a court order.

In any event, have you ever scrutinized the agreements you accept in creating an on-line asset? Peek at the termination clause of the Facebook statement of rights and responsibilities. IBM's Watson would be challenged to decipher it.

Some e-material, of course, may be viewed as creative property in a traditional sense and in that vein have palpably definable value. Consider it an asset such as an unpublished manuscript, which an estate administrator would have legal authority to handle.

But what about the other layers of the e-life of someone who dies or becomes incapacitated? Does a surviving spouse have a right to the deceased's passwords? What authorizes the surviving spouse to disable security settings? Absent a will provision, who inherits a decedent's on-line account/assets (Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, Snapfish, blogs) and in what proportion? Does a court or provider determine if they're transferable to a third-party fiduciary? What happens to digital property where there is no marketable asset value, but the property reveals some secret layer to the deceased's virtual life?

National Public Radio and the New York Law Journal recently analyzed the broad issues surrounding an estate's digital assets. While they highlighted potential legal difficulties, they merely hinted at a concrete pattern of responsive answers.

Left on the table was the threshold question of new laws and estate-planning considerations necessary to address digital assets in a virtual world. One state, Oklahoma, already has a statute dealing with a fiduciary's authority to take control of a decedent's social networking website. It's a fledging step, but clearly more is needed to engage the expanding extent of our e-footprints, especially as they "survive" death.

A recently published paperback, "Your Digital Afterlife" by John Romano and Evan Carroll, endorsed the idea of naming a digital executor in a will specifically to handle digital assets. The authors argue that traditional notions of an executor may not yield the best person with the technical understanding to handle digital property. In the very least, they advocate creating an inventory of on-line accounts to help a fiduciary know what's most important.

Modesto Argenio is an adjunct college professor and former New York state associate court attorney. He has more than 15 years of experience in the area of estates and trusts.