Epitaphs, Legacy, and Walks in the Park
“Carve your name no hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.” – Shannon Adler
I took my almost-three-year-old son Isaiah to a park yesterday, and rather than playing on the playground, he wanted to climb trees and explore the rock-lined walking path. As I was helping him crawl across the rocks, I noticed someone had etched into one of them: “Chris Was Here.”
Did you ever do that growing up, carve your initials into a tree or bridge, or scribble them on a bathroom stall? I know I did. In fact, when I was very little – I forget how old I was, but old enough to vandalize — I got in big trouble for carving my initials into the chair I was sitting in at a restaurant when my parents weren’t paying attention. They gave the manager money to repair/replace the chair and sent me to bed early several nights in a row and grounded me from going to friends’ houses for what seemed like an eternity. The incident certainly left an impression, no pun intended.
Perhaps the most well-known ways people make their marks is through the epitaphs they choose for their headstones, urns and the like. Here are few famous ones:
“That’s all, folks.” – Mel Blanc, voice actor who voiced Bugs Bunny, Porky Pig, and Daffy Duck
“Excuse my dust.” – Dorothy Parker
“Tomorrow is the most important thing in life, comes into us at midnight very clean. It hopes we’ve learned something from yesterday.” – John Wayne
“Go away – I’m asleep.” – Joan Hackett
“”I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.” – Sir Winston Churchill
“I told you I was sick.” William H. Hahn, Jr.
Some time ago, I wondered what epitaph Jesus would have chosen for his epitaph, and then I remembered the mocking inscription Pilate had placed above the cross:
“This is Jesus, the king of the Jews.”
It was the closest thing to an epitaph that the king of the universe received. The truth is, his epitaph (the word means “of a funeral”) was the redemptive, transformative, hope-filled power of the Gospel, which lives on to this day.
But the words one inscribes on a tree or rock, or has carved into stone after their death, says very little about the legacy they leave behind.
I love Dorothy Parker’s epitaph. Reading it for the first time, I thought, “She really got it.” She understood that her legacy, that is, the memories people had of her and the contributions she made to the world, couldn’t begin to be summed up in a few poetic lines. She understood that her actions and words would echo far louder and longer than a poignant verse or succinct sentiment. And so, she chose to leave, as her final words, a clever quip well suited to her reputation as a witty satirist and writer.
I understand the child or adolescent’s urge to etch their name and literally leave their mark in arbitrary places, such as walls and stairs and walking paths. I remember, for instance, the day I, along with my entire first-grade class, walked into what was soon to be our new school gymnasium and wrote our names in the wet concrete. It’s hard to articulate just what one feels in such a moment. Pride? Perhaps, but I had nothing to do with the construction. Joy? Maybe, but then I had been quite content having P.E. in our makeshift “gym room” and outside on the playground.
How about appreciation for the moment? I think that’s getting closer to describing the feeling of stretching out a moment, of making it stand still in time just long enough to step back and admire it with bright-eyed awareness, as a da Vinci fan marvels at the “Mona Lisa,” or a follower of Christ stares at the doorway of the empty tomb.
I can picture Chris in my mind’s eye strolling along that path at the park. He’s happy, care-free, enjoying the delightful sound of birdsong and children’s laughter and the sun’s warm rays on his shoulders. He’s with someone he likes. A girlfriend. A grandparent. A dog, maybe. And he wants to let the world know that this day was one for the books. And so, he picks up a stick, takes it to a nearby rock, and makes his mark.
I think one of the greatest things about journaling, whether that’s via a traditional diary, or a vlog or blog or newsletter like this, is that the practice forces us to ponder recent marks we’ve made in the world around us, and the marks the world has made on us, for good or for ill. Let’s not wait until our death beds to get serious about the legacies we wish to leave behind. Now is the time to prioritize our impact on others’ lives and the ripple effect that impact will make.
Wherever we go, whatever we do, let us ask, “What mark am I making?” and “How will my words and actions be remembered after I leave this place/person/conversation?”
“The best way to lengthen out our days is to walk steadily and with a purpose.” ―Charles Dickens
