Have you ever thought about your legacy?
Legacy is defined as “the lasting impact one leaves on the world, both the tangible assets they pass down and the intangible influence they have on others.”
For some reason, I have been pondering that lately. Maybe it’s because I have more years in the rearview mirror than I have ahead of me. What am I leaving behind when I am gone? (By the way, I have no immediate plans to leave, but the timing is not up to me.)
My mentor, the late Jasper Dorsey, was vice president of Southern Bell’s Georgia operations.
He taught me a lot about the business world and played an important role in my progress up the corporate ladder, for which I am grateful. More importantly, he taught me some valuable life lessons. One he constantly emphasized was that we all have an obligation to leave this world better than we found it.
Otherwise, we have simply wasted time and space.
I am pretty much set on the tangible assets I plan to pass on, but what about the intangibles? One of the most important things I can leave behind is my good name. I inherited it from my parents.
They were not wealthy people, but their reputation was solid gold. That was their legacy. The intangible assets they bequeathed to me, I pray I can pass along to my heirs. But that depends on me.
I have a term I call “walking sermons.” It refers to how we and our actions are perceived when we aren’t aware people are watching.
In other words, do we walk our talk?
One of my favorite stories concerns evangelist Billy Graham. It occurred many years ago, back when trains were the principal mode of travel.
Billy Graham was in line trying to change a train ticket and was dealing with a rude, uncooperative clerk. He patiently explained why he needed to take a different train, but to no avail. After several unsuccessful attempts, Graham thanked the clerk and walked away.
Standing behind him in line was a newspaper reporter who recognized him from his television crusades. The reporter expected Graham to remind the clerk who he was or demand to see a supervisor. He did neither.
The reporter later wrote that it was probably Billy Graham’s greatest sermon because it showed he was the same person in a ticket line that he was in the pulpit.
A walking sermon.
I witnessed something similar years ago while attending the Peabody Awards, presented by the Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communication at the University of Georgia.
Late one afternoon, famed radio commentator Paul Harvey walked into the hotel restaurant and was told lunch service had ended. He politely asked if they could make him a sandwich to take to his room because he had not eaten all day. The answer was no.
After a bit more conversation, and still no success, he did exactly what Billy Graham had done. He thanked the waitress and left.
I had always admired Paul Harvey’s commentaries, but my admiration for the man himself grew that day.
I share these stories because, as eminent as both men were in their respective fields, what you saw and heard was genuine. I suspect that is exactly how they would want to be remembered.
So, how do you want to be remembered? What do you want your legacy to be? Will this world be better because of your efforts? Or mine?
At this stage of the game, I am fairly sure I am not going to discover a cure for cancer, convince nations to turn their swords into plowshares, or unlock the mysteries of the universe.
But I can still be a good role model for my grandsons and great-grandchildren. I can positively influence their behavior. I can be a good friend without expecting something in return. I can be loyal to people who know they can trust me. I can keep things in perspective — remember the Serenity Prayer — and swallow my pride and say, “I’m sorry,” when I deserve to.
We are only going to pass this way once. But if we do it right, we will leave things better than we found them.
That is, and should be, our legacy.
Reach Dick Yarbrough at dick@dickyarbrough.com or P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139.