Shakespeare’s Legacy was one of my favorite classes in my Shakespeare Studies’ MA program. As an elective, I could have easily missed it; how lucky that I didn’t. Under the expert tutelage of Dr. Erin Sullivan, we explored Shakespeare’s afterlife.
This module opened my eyes to the question not only of the Bard’s post-mortem impact, but to questions about and investigation of what remains of anyone after their demise. I pondered the possibilities, not so much in a metaphysical or spiritual, as in a practical, tangible way.
Many of my boys’ peers have tied the knot; some have even produced offspring. But rather than revel in this news or lament my apparent light-years’ distance from it, I - atypically for a Jewish mother – wince ever so slightly. “How can they be so sure at such a young age?” I wonder. “Why not wait and enjoy the single, child-free life for a few years?” That I married late and divorced early might influence my thinking. I do, however, wonder about my own legacy if I am too old and senile to impart family lore and pearls of wisdom to theoretical progeny.
But what is a legacy anyway? Dictionary.com defines it as“anything handed down from the past, as from an ancestor or predecessor.” Sometimes such transmissions are direct and intentional. Folklore, family recipes, and bequeathed heirlooms all serve to share knowledge or material goods as a means of preserving history – familial or societal – so that generations to come will know their literal and figurative origins. Hence, I have my Greek grandmother’s baklava recipe and my Russian maternal grandparents’ samovar. My Papoo wrote poetry, as I and my son do.
But surely passing down stories and stuff through generations is merely one of many ways to infuse the future with one’s essence. Having children is not the only way to put a stamp in the endowment passport; in fact, I’m sure there are many an offspring who would prefer to inherit neither their parent’s possessions nor qualities. We do not know Shakespeare because his children published the first folio or hosted a jubilee in his honor. Friends and fans did.
Technology largely takes on the task of creating legacies now. Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and TikTok broadcast our every movement and thought in real time. Legacies thus emerge more haphazardly than we might intend, even if we control some of the feed.
While I cannot control when – or if – my kids have kids (or much of anything else), I can approach my own legacy more intentionally. The most basic of information gathering questions of who, what, where, when, why, and how help to anchor and structure any inquiry, and prove useful with this one as well:
· Who? I unequivocally start the game as pitcher, but the team behind me, the opposing team, and even the spectators will influence how I am perceived in the moment and into the future.
· What? The things I say, do, and create form my repertoire: they are my curves, sliders, changeups, and fastballs. For example, how I treat others, or the daily haiku I write might impact others’ perceptions of me in the me-less future.
· Where? Everywhere. Not just at special events or on momentous occasions.
· When? Every day. Not just when we do something out of the ordinary. Always.
· Why? Simply because, for me at least, what matters most is the ultimate and cumulative impact we have on our micro and macrocosms.
· How? Let’s get back to baseball (the Mets are, amazingly, winning as I write this). A pitcher carefully crafts not only each pitch, but when and how s/he uses them. For me, legacy creation balances intentionality with a general way of walking through the world. More muscle memory mannerisms than manipulated image manufacturing. I aspire less to be an Instagram Influencer than someone who had a net beneficial influence on the world.
I mean this to be neither preachy nor prescriptive; it’s very personal. For me, it resulted from unlikely confluence of a great graduate Shakespeare class and rumination about grandchildren. I appreciate the fact that those two seemingly disparate subjects made me reflect on the butterfly effect that my existence might ultimately have. How wonderful if the legacy happens, as is Shakespeare’s, to be writ large. But how equally as wonderful if it flutters quietly under the radar, and simply leaves a nice vibe in the air.
Thank you, Diane...so beautifully written and perfect for my own pondering at the moment. Love your baseball analogies, especially since we shared so many Little League games getting to know each other in the bleachers. ❤️
What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.” ― Crowfoot Blackfoot Warrior Chief 1890.