I’ve said this for many years. Let’s go public.
At about forty, we make a decision. Whether or not that decision is conscious is immaterial: our actions represent the decision. It’s a simple one: once somewhat established and having obtained some security, will we:
b) Bitch at the kids to stay off our lawn?
If we share–if we use our resources to help others, and don’t hog the cake–they have to rent an auditorium for our memorial services. In the case of one dear family friend of ours, Mrs. Sally Halvorson, they had to have two memorials. Basically, the entire Haskell Indian Nations University turned out to honor this white woman who had done so much to build up their school. They mourned her as one of their own. Sally shared.
If we scream at the kids–if we turn turtle and treat the world as our enemy–it’s easier to find room for our memorial services. The guys’ can at SunMart out on 27th and US 395 in Kennewick, WA, which is not that roomy, will accomodate all one or two mourners. If there are even that many. And we get obituaries like this.
It’s up to you, but I find life is better leaving behind me a trail of people who could say, “He helped me.” Deb and I were reflecting on this while driving over the Blue Mountains this past weekend. Our real legacy, our legacy of value, is in the number and quality of people who can say that of us.