"A tiger dies and leaves his pelt,
a man leaves only his name."
Japanese proverb
My grandfather died a year or so ago, and my mother gave me some of his things. They were just cheap jewelry, bolo ties with horses on them. I'm not complaining, but it illustrated to me how we actually own so little of value.
My dad is undergoing chemotherapy right now. He has an incurable, although slow-progressing form of cancer. I was at my parents' house watching a football game when my mother brought up the subject of their will and inheritance. My dad is in his 70's, and my mom just hit retirement age.
My mom said they would rather square everything up now, rather than have a situation after their death when there's bickering and people squabbling over things. I told my parents I don't need anything. I'm not going to fight over who gets what of their belongings.
My mom said she thought the furnishings and appliances in their house should go to my sister. I agreed.
"What is there of ours that you would like to have?"
I was tearing up. I didn't like even thinking about it. Though we've all known for years that my dad has this cancer, I've mentally kept it at arm's length.
"The picture of dad in his police uniform. And his guns."
My mom said, "we may as well give it to you now." She went into the back and brought back my dad's Luger. He got the Luger when he was chasing a car. The guys in the car disassembled the gun and threw it out the window piece by piece. My dad went back later and recovered all of the pieces, except for the trigger spring.
But it's a question, "What do I own of real value?" "If I were to die, what would be passed on?"
I'm not talking about monetary value. The point is that we surround ourselves with junk. We own mass produced, disposable items. Even the very expensive things we own, like large TV's, have little resale value, and say nothing about us as persons.
One thing I have of value is a sterling silver razor handle that's engraved. I shave with it every day. Yes, I know it's not going into the Getty Museum anytime soon, and no one is going to sell it and have a night out on the town. But the typical alternative is the cheap, disposable Bic shavers. Even the higher priced electric shavers have no real value. They aren't in any sense unique.
What do you own that's unique? Have you created something, like a song, a book, or a carving that will last and be treasured after you die?
Because the question is really not about your death, but about the quality of your life right now.
2 comments:
Besides a 1964 Kennedy half-dollar with a nick in one side (someone probably wanted to test it to see if it was sterling silver), a lepel pin for which I paid the dear-bought experience of a year of my life, and a few sentimental-value items I won't relate that would be thought rubbish by anyone else, I had nothing...
Until approximately 12:30 PM EDT on June 2, 2008.
Let me ask you this: What would you do if doctors told you three years ago you'd never make a kid, when that was all you really wanted, then one you never knew you had not only walked in the door where you worked, but signed on and worked with you in your department?
That's how I spent my summer! You're absolutely right. We place so much value on the worthless, and never know it. I'm grateful to have discovered that before it was too late. I learned this bittersweet summer past that who we are is not as important as what we leave behind.
Justin is all I have in and of this world that means anything to me, now!
Ted,
The sentimental stuff is not nearly so worthless. Those things take on value to those who know you and love you.
And the real legacy is in one's children, or students.
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