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The Constellation Learning Newsletter
June 2006
“If
you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings, nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!”
-- Rudyard
Kipling, final stanza from the poem “If”
 My
baby graduated from University last week. He’ll be twenty-two
in six weeks. He’s got his degree in hand and is moving
to the west coast at the end of the summer. Going to California.
To surf. He swears he’ll get a “real” job
– eventually.
But first, he’s off to Europe. A trip
he planned and saved for. Augmented by various family members
in the form of cash congratulations, Andrew will be visiting
ten of Europe’s finest cities in five weeks with a couple
of his buddies. He suspects that if he doesn’t do this
now he may never do it and so he’s going.
I think it’s wonderful. Too bad more of
us don’t think the same way. We’d have a lot more
fun. I also think it’s wonderful that he’s following
a dream to move to a place he once visited with me: San Diego.
When my sons were younger they attended a school
wherein moving from the “lower” school (grades
K through 4) to the “middle school” (grades 5
– 8) was a very big deal. Upon graduation from the fourth
grade both boys received a gift of a trip: I would take them
where ever they chose (within reason) for a long weekend.
Michael, my now almost twenty-five year old, chose New York
City. We did the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty,
a Broadway play, and a visit to the famous F A O Swartz toy
store.
Three years later my husband and I had divorced
and when Andrew moved on from the lower school, imagine my
surprise when he asked to go – of all places –
to San Diego! An avid sports enthusiast he wanted to learn
to surf. He was adamant about it. So I trusted my heart and
followed his, booked the tickets and for the first time in
my newly single life, took a trip with my child, all the while
wondering “why San Diego?”
We ended up having the time of our lives. We
secured a convertible car at the airport, rented his first
surf board, ate dinners out and reveled in the warm weather.
We didn’t do much; Andrew stayed in the water while
I perched myself on the beach. For years, Andrew remembered
that trip with dewy eyes and wistful voice, as did I. I have
always told my sons that they may expect very little in the
way of financial windfalls upon my death, but that I can leave
them memories which are far richer when recalled than any
sum of money ever could be.
As I watched my man-child walk up to receive
his diploma, I wondered if I’d done enough for him.
His father forged his fiscal accountability; I, his emotional
strength. But had we – to the best of our abilities
– done what we could to prepare him for the vicissitudes
of adulthood? California’s a long way away after all,
and a parent’s love, though active in absence, still
requires a plane ticket for physical expression.
Andrew’s decision to return to a place
we visited over a decade ago is enough of an affirmative declaration
for me. He’s a grounded young man, confident and comfortable
in his own skin. He has a good head on his shoulders, and
equally if not more importantly, a good heart in his chest
that will steer him well on his course to new and exciting
landscapes.
As he stood to acknowledge the guests at the
celebratory dinner graciously hosted by his father, I listened
to my son, now a man soon to be on his own, speak fluidly,
warmly and without hesitation about the support he has felt
from his extended family and friends. He is a walking reminder
of the cumulative effects of individual choices initiated
during his childhood.
It is the smallest choices, sometimes, that
prepare the way for the future legacy of our lives. While
the truth of them can be seen only in hindsight;
the experience of those choices can be felt only in the moment.
And the way things feel is the surest indicator for a successful
legacy. I hope Andrew learned that from me.
He can’t wait to move to southern California.
And I can’t wait to visit him there.
I hear it’s pretty nice in the winter.
Application Tips:
- Legacy
List
An interesting exercise is to write your own obituary.
What would you like said at your funeral? How would you
like to be remembered? Make a list of the things you’d
like to do, the places you’d like to go and the
people you’d like to reconnect with. Add to it whenever
something new comes to you. Keep it an active activity.
-
A Living
Will
Now, pretend you have one year to live. What’s
most important to you? Assuming the normal course of
events, since you haven’t really received a death
sentence, it would most likely be inappropriate to quit
your job, spend your savings and do all the things you
want to do before you die. But you can start living
as though you were going to die. Start being the way
you want to be remembered. Morbid? Hardly. It’s
the truth, after all. Your physical body will die. But
your memory will live on. Make it matter. Make your
life a living will.
See
this month’s Recommended Reading
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