When one is sitting around healing up after surgery finding ways to pass the time in a constructive manner can be a challenge. I end up thinking about concepts or ideas philosophically. I explore the reaches of each concept within my experience. It may be a product of ADHD, a spectrum of Autism, or just a brain that is always on a quest for more knowledge and understanding of society and the world I live in. One of the thinking exercises I have been exploring is “Legacy.”

Legacy is defined in three different ways by our loyal dictionary. First, is an amount of money or property left in someone’s will. Second, is the long lasting impact of particular events or actions that took place in the past or in a person’s life. Third, is denoted or relating to software or hardware that has been superseded, but is difficult to replace because of its wide use. I will not explore the third as this a technology problem, not a human problem.

If I were to die following the publication of this blog, my legacy using the first definition would be an insurance payout for my wife and whole lot of personal property (tools, music, books, and furniture.) I’m sure my wife and children will keep these pieces of property that represent or symbolize my presence in their lives, much like the grandfather clock I have that was created by my paternal grandfather. My legacy would essentially be memories attached to items of perceived personal value. There is a sense of irony that I would live on in memories through stuff that I have collected over the years. It is just stuff, needful things, that represent my living interests. The symbolism of these things may bring comfort at the time of the loss, but that value decreases as time marches on.

The grandfather clock that sits in the SW corner of my living room has not worked since I received it. My late father over oiled the mechanisms and they are gummed up and stuck. I do not wish to spend thousands cleaning it up, as the entire gear system would have to be disassembled. This non-working clock came from a walnut tree that I watched fall near our driveway at my boyhood home on a sunny day with a slight Eastern breeze. I participated in the harvesting of the trunk. It sat drying for years outside. Eventually it was milled and my grandfather using plans built three clocks from the wood. My brother has the first clock my grandfather finished. My cousin, has the second. I have the last clock. I am reminded daily of my grandfather’s patience, persistence, and craftsmanship through this non-functioning clock. My grandfather’s legacy is tied up in a piece of furniture through my memories. As warm and emotional as that may be for me, a third party could look upon this notion as silly… It is just plain odd that we attach so much emotional meaning to the stuff we collect. My grandfather passed in 2014 at the age of 100.5, and he was humble enough that he would probably be embarrassed by this amount of expressed emotion I feel over his clock…

The second definition of legacy is the obsession $47, our current president, is pursuing to be remembered as someone important and influential. His desperation to feel validated, or have a legacy to be admired for generations to come, boggles my mind. He wants statues, monuments, his name on everything, or some important marker that can’t be replaced by those that succeed him. The legacy he wants to build is based in pride, greed, gluttony, lust, and envy of others. He wants to be considered the best, despite his inability to accomplish anything of substance. He wants to be revered, but all he does is demean. History, I feel, will not be kind to him the way it is towards other presidents. Fallibility of one’s character is remembered when one is a “leader” historically. That is the double-edged blade of fame.

As I have aged, I have found the obituary pages inching closer. As I read other people’s obituary columns the survivors are searching for ways to express that loved one’s legacy within their lives. It could be family love, the work or service they provided, or a hobby they excelled at. If I were in the place of the dead loved one, would I want my family to struggle with such a thing? No, absolutely not. I don’t want an obituary. I’m not concerned with a legacy. I would be dead. Nonexistent… No longer of relevant… I find the whole process of funerals, grieving, and legacy building to be an exercise for the living rather than the dead. Why would you want the last image of yourself for your family to be that of an embalmed, cold, made up painted corpse? This self-serving grief or attention centered grief is not the legacy I want for my family or even myself. This legacy practice is prideful. I prefer a different approach. I would prefer, no publication, no memorial stone, just a transfer of my body in such a way that my potential energy can be reused and recycled by nature. I came into this life with little fanfare other than family. I wish to go out the same way, with little fanfare.

Legacies are for, in my perspective (opinion,) are for the self-absorbed, or for the vain. They feel like an exercise of competition. Here lies Bob, he collected more… he accomplished cold fusion… etc… I’m not going to care, as I will be gone. I just want my family to live and grieve in peace without the human platitudes. The natural conclusion of life is death, we don’t need to make that death a vanity exercise for the living. This is why I oppose $47 desire to place his name on everything. His vanity should not be awarded, nor should his family’s vanity either.

When I look at legacies historically, through biography’s memoirs, etc. I find the greater the time distance the better and more honest the perspective becomes. An example, our founding fathers of the United States. These men who considered themselves principled, educated, and enlightened are lauded for their courage, creativity, and knowledge. I agree they did show us some amazing events and precedents that affected our history. These men were also imperfect, vain, and racist. George Washington was a slave owner. He rationalized this consistently in his writings, even while feeling guilty about it. I admire and despise the man equally… No, I revise that. I despise him more, because he has a nice mausoleum, while his slaves were buried without recognition at Mt. Vernon. Mt. Vernon does not exist without these enslaved people. They deserve the same recognition. The Mount Vernon Ladies Association, is finally trying to do this. Alexander Hamilton despite being an abolitionist at heart allowed his sugar merchant company he worked for pay his education at King’s College (Columbia.) Sugar was painstakingly planted, maintained, harvested, and processed by slave labor during Hamilton’s life. This hypocrisy or irony is not lost on history. Thomas Jefferson was also a slave owner. Despite his authorship of the Declaration of Independence he objectified those who were not white. His arrogance or self-importance becomes more apparent with each reflection. I appreciate the author’s of African-American descent that can provide a perspective on this history that does not white-wash their inhumanity. Imperfection does not hide… It is a part of all our lives…

Legacies are messy. Ludwig van Beethoven’s music is remembered for its creativity, passion, and technological advancement. Sadly, he was not a very nice human being. He was a lonely drunkard, that may have suffered from Bi-Polar Depression. If it wasn’t for his music, I doubt he would be remembered. Richard Strauss carries the scars of his association with the Third Reich. How many composers are scarred for their association with communism or other authoritarian association? How many musicians exercise a privilege they have not earned? I feel I can include myself in that last question.

Does part of me want to be remembered? A legacy? Sure. There is a prideful vain man within me that would love to be remembered. The humble man inside of me is embarrassed of that. I dissent with the idea of building a legacy, but I know I am powerless to prevent such a thing. The survivors build that legacy… not the dead… …so it goes…