The wall of legacy.

I remember the days when I would run six miles to the nearest newsagents shop to collect the daily paper. I would return to my caravan and for the next hour or so sit and complete the crossword. The crossword came before the news, even though the news was important my first thought was the crossword.

I still purchase that same newspaper, though I must admit I am not liking the way it is going, and I still turn to the crossword. I now purchase the digital version so no more having to seek out a newsagent that sells it when on my travels. I can still access it in France.

I remember my days as a youth when the newspaper put pushed through the letterbox every morning and my mother sat down to read it while my brother and I got ready to go to school.

My father must have purchased a different paper because he always brought one home with him from work. I suspect he bought it for the sports page.

As time moved on I remember so clearly that my mother always turned to the death notices. She became the font of knowledge about who in her age group and shook off their mortal coils. 

I often asked her if that did not make her sad seeing her contemporaries dying off. 

"Not at all, makes me feel good that I am still here and able to tell you about it."

Those notices are no longer printed in the digital edition so I most certainly do not read them. Even if they were I do not think I would bother. Not because it would make me sad, but because I would be afraid I might find that I was on the list. 

About 100 years ago this very thing happened to a man. he turned to the obituaries to discover that his name was listed as having died. He tasted his boiled egg and assured himself it was not the case. 

He was shocked. I am here so I must be alive. 

Once he got over the shock he returned to the paper to see what they were saying about him.  The headline was, "Dynamite King Dies," he read on and he saw, merchant of death." 

"Is this how I am going to be remembered?" he asked himself. he was after all the inventor of dynamite because he was Alfred Nobel.

He did not want this to be the way he would be remembered so he decided to do something about it. He began to work for peace and it was he who set up the Nobel Peace Prize. he had got in touch with his feelings and redefined himself and how he would be remembered.   

Now I am not asking anybody to dwell on death or the death columns not at all. I live by the theory of making the very best of every day. I wake up and am glad to be alive and have another day on which to make my mark. 

But it does no harm from time to time to ask ourselves.

What is my legacy?

How will I be remembered?

Will I be well spoken of?

Will I be remembered with love and respect?

Will I be missed?

We are never too young or too old to now and again ask these questions and set about making sure that the answers will all be positive. 

Have a marvellous day and build another wonderful brick in the wall of your legacy.