I Want No Legacy
The sooner all traces of me disappear, the happier I’ll be
Arthur Keith has done it to me again — “it” being inspired me to write another column. This time, I am reacting to his heartfelt pondering of legacy, Half of My Family is Dead.
Personally, my only pondering of my legacy is that I don’t care about it one bit. I assume this is a minority opinion, and I don’t think there is a right and wrong attitude about it. But my attitude is, bah, humbug!
To begin with, what does it mean to leave a legacy? Here’s a pretty good answer to that question: https://michaelrucker.com/having-fun/what-is-the-meaning-of-legacy/ According to Rucker, it comes down to us wanting to feel that our life had meaning and that, when we a gone, we will be remembered.
I don’t want to be remembered. I was barely noticed while I lived, so don’t pretend to miss me when I’m gone.
My life has no meaning. I am fine with that.
I know I’ll leave no material legacy.
I built no bridges, no monuments. The computers and software I’ve contributed to professionally are already obsolete, and my contributions have been small.
I’ll have no tombstone. Just ashes released to the winds.
I know I’ll leave no artistic legacy.
I can’t paint or sculpt to save my soul. Thanks to AI, I can at least now generate some decent images. I’ve written a few songs and poems, heard or read by hardly anyone. I’ve not enough artistic talent to stand out from the crowd in any way. Or to leave any legacy.
I know I’ll leave no intellectual legacy.
I cured no diseases, made no scientific or philosophical breakthroughs. Oh, I’ve done some writing on Medium, created a personal website, written a few books, and recorded some podcasts. But it’s all quite forgettable. Barely noticed in the first place. It’s piffle, in the scheme of things. Bubbles in the beer. Gone almost before it was created. About what it deserves.
I know I’ll leave no genetic legacy.
Do I even want to perpetuate my family line? That is not something I care one whit about.
While I love my immediate family, I barely know anyone from my extended family. My dad moved our family from the East Coast to California when I was little, and I can count on one hand the number of times I ever again saw or heard from any relative outside of my immediate family. I simply don’t know them. I haven’t attended a funeral for any one of them.
My siblings and I spread out to other parts of the country as we became adults, and I barely know them. I’ve only met a couple of nieces and nephews a few times, and never any of their kids. I barely know them or even know of them. And no kids of my own, of course.
tl;dr: I have very weak family ties. No legacy there, and no desire for it.
What is more, I find the idea of bringing a new “little me” into this world slightly horrifying. While I’ve had a fairly easy, privileged life, even my life is generally a pain in the ass. Worse yet, to have to live it as me, or partially like me, I just don’t wish that on anyone.
And that’s without even considering the global climate catastrophe, which is going to make things ever worse going forward.
We humans are fleshy bags of cells, bacteria, viruses, fungi, and other biologics that developed consciousness and intelligence as an evolutionary survival strategy … thereby making us the most miserable creatures that ever walked the earth, swam the oceans, swung from trees, or flew through the air.
Life, life is sorrow and strife,
A little bit of joy for me,
A crashing lot of dull ennui.
I’ve tried to live my life with gratitude, compassion, generosity, and kindness. I hope I’ve had a positive influence on some of the people in my life, from family to complete strangers. I guess that leaves some legacy behind, for a little while. Remember me if you like, if it helps bring some goodness into your life. Or forget me. I don’t care.
And I certainly won’t care when I’m gone.
