On Leaving a Legacy

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 15:49:38 -0500

We all want to be remembered after we leave. Some want to be remembered by lots of people, some are content with being remembered by few. Some want to be remembered for doing something grand and proactive, and some are apparently alright with being remembered for doing some downright terrible things.

As a kid, it seemed relatively obvious that we would all do something grand with our life, whether that was becoming a heroic firefighter, or an astronaut, or a world-class chef or musician. As adults, of course, we know that most people aren’t remembered for such amazing things, or by many. For this reason, it seems to me that there are really only two paths that can be taken: either become content with being only remembered by those close to you (most of whom will likely leave the mortal coil shortly after you, and taking your legacy with them), or choose some profession or art or something to become proficient in to the point of leaving a legacy for others.

I, for some reason, am not content with being remembered just as a good dad, or a good worker, or a smart guy, or whatever. “He loved to laugh” should not be my epitaph. So, since I don’t fall into the “content to happily fade away” category, I necessarily must then fit myself into the “do something grand” category. What strikes me immediately as interesting is not how hard it is to do something grand, but how hard it is to choose a proficiency with which to do something grand. This goes hand-in-hand with a phrase that many know well: “Jack of all trades, master of none.” Is it better to be somewhat proficient in many things, but not masterful of any, or to be masterful in one thing?

In my younger days, I was fully accepting of the “Jack of all trades” title, and would happily pick up something, get “alright” at it, then leave it in the dust, having done not much more than amass some trivial knowledge on the subject. I did this because I thought that amassing knowledge was my path to grandiosity – that in becoming a walking encyclopedia, people would remember me. Currently, I no longer think that this is the case. Is it useful to have lots of random knowledge? Yes, though in the times that I come to a conversation with someone who is actually knowledgeable on the subject, I tend to lose my conversational balance, so to speak, and am unable to keep up.

Maybe it’s just a side effect of getting older (and I’m not even that old yet) but I really feel as if the correct answer was to choose a subject to become proficient in and become extremely proficient in it. This is something that I admire heavily about my wife: she has many talents, of course, but anyone who knows her knows her main proficiency is violin. This is not a secret, and cannot possibly be a secret, as the violin is essentially her life.

The issue with the “become proficient” path to leaving a legacy, however, is what I like to call the “Chinese Prodigy” issue. Namely, in any area with which you hold skill, there will always be some Chinese (not always, of course, but typically it seems to be the case) child that is either as proficient as you, but at a younger age, or more proficient than you in every way. Of course, it’s not always a Chinese child. The point stands, though, that there is always someone to overshadow you.

That, of course, is just something that we have to learn to be alright with.

What this means, to me, is that at some point down the second legacy path of becoming proficient in a skill, one will have to decide the amount of legacy that they are content with leaving behind. For instance, I’m not content with only being remembered by family for being a family guy. At the same time, I would ruin most aspects of my life if I spent the time attempting to garner world-wide renown in one specific skill. Since I have two bounds, I necessarily will land somewhere in the middle.

The plus-side to making this distinction is that it means we are able to set real, tangible goals to leaving our legacy behind. The downside to this distinction is that figuring out where that point of contentedness lies doesn’t really get any easier.

NOTE TO SELF – write about tightening goals until something attainable is converged upon. Write about determining which hobby (or hobbies, if time allows) are the ones with which to become proficient, and why. Write about how certain aspects of hobbies can be efficiently mixed with other aspects of life, such as photography + bonding with FIL, writing + bonding with kids, hiking + bonding with friends, alcohol making + bonding with friends, etc. Mostly social aspects, really. Therefore, some hobbies, such as making electronic music, get harder because they cannot be mixed with other aspects of life and are inefficient with my time. Write about college being a life-in-miniature, with the birth and middle age and attempting to leave a legacy behind.

Something-something most people aren’t prodigies and it just takes time to get good at things, but I was raised to think I was either inherently good at stuff or bad at it and didn’t take the time to learn skills

2026 - forgot about this draft. Publishing as is so I can read it in the future.

Philosophy on Natnater.com

On Leaving a Legacy