LEGACY

1. a gift by will especially of money or other personal property : bequest. She left us a legacy of a million dollars. 2 : something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past: the legacy of the ancient philosophers; the war left a legacy of pain and suffering. (Merriam-Webster dictionary)

One analysis of President Putin’s attack on Ukraine is that he is intent on securing his legacy. If that’s so, he’s not alone. Putin, at 69, is at the age when many of us have an eye on our legacy, not just national leaders. Whether he likes it or not, Putin will get mixed reviews – as will we all.

I’m not so sure that there is such a thing as ‘healthy’ narcissism: self-regard and the desire for the admiration of others all seems a bit dodgy to me. But we each seem to have our fair share of it, and when I think about not-being-here - as in dead – I wonder who will recall my presence and how it will be recalled. In thinking about that, I can feel the urge to control the narrative.

Oldies like myself have largely given up believing in Heaven and Hell, but we haven’t given up on the idea that we can live forever in the minds of others. So how can I make you remember the very best version of myself? Perhaps you’d like this painting I’ve produced in my new art class - could it be hung in a hallway for you to gaze on long after I’ve gone? What about this lavishly planted garden - surely you’ll take a moment to remember our afternoons together in its beauty? And what about this autobiography that I leave you – pages and pages of my so, so interesting life story? You can’t fail to remember me just as I think I am, a creditable display of wonderfulness.

And above all, my offspring, can you do your part in being as successful, happy and beautiful as it is possible to be? You then can be my perfect legacy.

When I think about my own parents’ wish for, and control of, their children I now see it through the lens of their hoped-for legacy: wanting something in us that they could admire from their older perspective. “My daughter this…, my son that…..” with the emphasis on “my”. I hear these words sprinkled in conversations with friends now – pleasure and pride, of course. But something more suspect, I think: that it is only through ME that this person exists and performs so well; only through my genes, my influence on them…..my legacy. Yes, they have their own volition but wasn't it I myself who laid the foundations?

The famous are assured of their place in history but it’s a particular kind of remembering. Their song, their invention, their wars, their books rather than their personalities.

For most of us the Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card is that we will be remembered by those we loved and who loved us. A relief, you might say. No need for fame then. The fly in the ointment, as far as I am concerned, is that my attempts at loving others have not been perfect. In fact, I would say that it has been one of the hardest things in life, to really love another human being. Yes, there are people in the world whom I have loved and who love me still. But there are also people in the world whom I have hated or who have ended up hating me. These are strong words and no doubt could be unpicked for their nuances, but you get my drift. What about the lovers I have left behind or who have left me, the siblings I’ve neglected or envied, the friends I have failed or who have failed me? I will live on in their minds too, but not in the way my blessed ego would wish. I don’t know what Putin’s been like with his wife and daughters, but I doubt whether they will be thinking about his war record when they remember him.

The reality is that my footprint in the sand is well-formed by the time I’m this age. The narrative has been written by others and is already in their minds – small and large impressions that won’t change with my death, as accurate or inaccurate as my impressions might be of them. There’s not much I can do about that. Someone will say something about me at my funeral; someone will choose a picture to go on the front of the Order of Service. But mostly, I think I will leave impressions formed over time – a Chris-ness rather than a set of accomplishments and failures.

And finally, that other meaning of legacy: the Last Will & Testament of the Deceased. If you don’t have children of your own, are you going to leave your money to stepchildren, godchildren, nieces and nephews? Or to an environmental group that you hope will keep the planet going for future generations? I note that as we get older, it is not unusual to change a Will: a tweak here, an omission there. This child who’s doing so much to look after me in my declining years, doesn’t she deserve more? That child, whose partner I never liked (let alone their ungrateful children), do I really need to recognise them? It’s an opportunity to even a score, let the internal judge decide who the winner will be. As the last act of a disapproving parent, it can have devastating consequences. As a final act of continuous generosity, it can increase the well of love for generations to come. Those I see getting it right, share their belongings equally.

Young people might feel that, as an older generation, we have left them a pretty disastrous legacy and, if I think about climate change, impoverishment, wars and pandemics they’ve got a point. But we baby-boomers were also born into an impoverished world, coughing our way to school in the smog, playing on bomb sites and battling diseases now rarely thought about. Did we think it the fault of previous generations? No. We put up with things as children and then did our best to change them as adults. That’s what the next generation does.

Now, where was I with that next bit of so important voluntary work?