Gus McCrae: It says, "Josh Deets. Served with me 30 years. Fought In 21 engagements with the Comanche and the Kiowa. Cheerful in all weathers. Never shirked a task. Splendid behavior." That's what it says.
[This exchange takes place part way through Larry McMurtry's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Lonesome Dove. I first read it in 1988 as a midshipman. I was aboard the USS Brooke (FFG-1) out of San Diego. I remember lounging in my bunk...captivated by the language and the vivid descriptions of the South Texas mesquite flats. I was hooked. I have read the book nine times since.]
When I was younger I often thought about what would be said of me at my own funeral. (I believe that people think about these things more than they admit.) I always wanted to be remembered the way Gus remembered Deets. Cheerful in all weathers. Never shirked a task. Splendid behavior.
But I won't be remembered that way. Lonesome Dove is fiction.
I am real.
And my epitaph is yet to be written.
Like me, your epitaph (and the epitaphs of your children) haven't been determined. We are still alive. We are still creating. We are still striving. We are still making mistakes. We are still inspiring others. We are still evolving, day in and day out.
We are all works in progress.
I won't be remembered like Josh Deets.
But I will be remembered as Bill Arnold.
Dinner table question of the week:
How do you want to be remembered?
Josh Deets (played by Danny Glover in the 1989 miniseries Lonesome Dove)
The legacy of ourselves....something I have pondered on a daily basis since my stage 3 cancer diagnosis. Looking at possible death at age 38 with four children needing a mother will quickly make you evaluate your potential legacy. That experience has changed me as a person...not just physically but emotionally, mentally, intellectually, and socially. I quickly determined that I would spend whatever days I have here crafting my legacy so that not only I would be proud in my last moments but so more importantly my children would be surrounded throughout their lives by that legacy.
ReplyDeleteOur epitaph isn't just about is... It is the legacy that we leave for those who love us. I wish I had learned the importance of this in an easier way... But I am grateful that I learned it and have the opportunity every morning to contribute to the crafting of a legacy that my children will have of me been after I am gone.
This is my father's favorite book and miniseries of all time. He is 73. My parents have been married for 55 years today, and my mother still rolls her eyes lovingly when my dad speaks about the book, excluding McMurtry of course, and says,"They just don't make 'em like they used to."
ReplyDeleteI am so touched by Bill's and Lisa's comments. As I am packing to leave from a conference that I have been attending and presenting at on the disparities of infant mortality I am reminded moment to moment how precious life is for ourselves and all those around us. Our legacy reaches places we do not even know, we touch and are touched by so many. When my older son died I knew at that moment how precious life is and how we must hold each moment close, fight for what we believe in, and not be afraid to take chances. If our children see this, then hopefully they will follow. How do we learn this without having a life threatening experience? Maybe we can if we listen deeply and hear deeply more from others and celebrate our interconnectedness.
ReplyDeleteI know what I'll be reading next. Thanks Bill!
ReplyDeleteLisa
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for sharing this. Our families have travelled through Country Day in parallel, but without really knowing each other. I watched from afar your courage in fighting your cancer. And now I get to benefit from your wisdom.
A favorite book and movie. Deets is on my short list of personal heros. Fictional, but representative of people we know...like Lisa...what a beautiful response.
ReplyDeleteI only hope our children read these notes.