Looking for Legacy

Legacy is a word that we should toss about more often. And I don’t mean the material kind. Think heritage—bequest—the spirit, the ideas you leave behind. When we spend a lot of time at home with our family, it’s easy to lose sight of all the things we have in common—those little things that only strangers notice. We get bogged down in work and wonder if anyone out there is listening. In those times, it can be helpful to remember that the legacy is out there, somewhere, growing every time we decide to push forward one more day.

My first of three recent reminders came via an unexpected phone call. A distant cousin nearly twice my age invited me over. Her last name is my first. I am, literally, a named legacy of her line. We had never met until she called me and invited me over. As she regaled me with stories of my family, I saw in her the gaze of my beloved great aunts and uncles who had left me so long ago. She told me she saw them in me, too. It was amazing. And after more than a century for her and a half of a century for me, we met each other for the first time. It was as if she had shown me their legacy, and I could see it—really see it—as a grown woman. My past is connected to my future. Legacy.

After living inside for the better part of six months, wearing masks and opening public door knobs with tissues, looking for your legacy can be a comforting anchor in a swirling sea of uncertainty. It can also form habits.

As example, a Compañero student of mine, a bit older than me, is taking a boring foundational class he could have avoided but chose to take anyway. He said he wanted to master the tools of the class because he must pass on his educational legacy through his family line. Thank you, Compañero, for centering the world of education for me in a time when the profession wonders what will happen next.

For the trifecta, as is this column’s way, at a recent meeting of the Rocky Mountain College English Association, a Chica student of mine logged in after a hard day to attend our virtual quarterly meeting. When she logged in, one of our founder members (and a real leader in our field—I mean a big deal for women everywhere) was also in the room. And that big star was my student’s mentor years ago—and—get this—the said ‘star’ recognized the Chica—right away! Legacy! Three times... means something, right?

And thus, with all the suspicions and unknowns of Fall 2020, may we pause, Clever Chicas and Compañeros, to salute the potential of legacy. It’s out there, in those little moments alone with a distant cousin or a victory at work that you didn’t see coming. Stay the course, and vote!