Not to focus on the inevitable but…

Someday you’re gonna die. No matter how much you exercise or how much sugar you don’t eat.

When that happens, will your life—how you lived and loved and what you prioritized—have an enduring impact on those you care most about?

I’m not talking about leaving legacies like homes, vacation properties, and loaded bank accounts that we were careful not to spend so the youngens have a nice package after we’re just a memory (although that’s great if you can do it). I’m referring to the legacy you leave based on the beliefs you share, actions you take, values, and memories you leave others to learn from, be inspired by, or continue to build upon.

So, what legacy will you leave?

Some Legacies Are Simple and Straightforward

My Dad died suddenly at age 58. His headstone reads ‘Gentle, Loving, and Kind’ because many people at his wake described him with these exact words. His absence is still felt 35 years later. His legacy was based on who he was and how he treated others. Everyone he met felt heard and loved. His five kids still argue about who Dad’s favorite was (and it’s always whoever is speaking at the time). He was quiet and humble with a strong moral compass. He made everyone feel special. Many of us have tried to model his sense of morality, kindness, and forgiveness. When pondering something, I often wonder, ‘What would Dad think about this?’. What he made look simple hasn’t always been easy to emulate.

Thankfully, my Mom was teaching at the time of his death, so she had an income and medical benefits. With the hardship of losing my Dad, she wasn’t rolling in the dough, but at least she was capable of paying her household bills with her paycheck and his life insurance. Her life was filled with happy memories, but she suddenly had many months of sadness and emptiness, even with family members close by.

Some Legacies Involve A Boat

Fast-forward to the following year, when my Mom announces, ‘I bought a boat.’ This caused a bit of alarm amongst her adult daughters because, well, not one of us (including her) owned a place on or near a body of water where a boat could be used. To make matters even more interesting, this was a power boat, not an inexpensive rowboat. It was built to pull a water skier, two inner tubes with screaming kids, and a family of fisherpeople. No one in the family had owned a boat with that kind of power.

*When tied to the dock, the boat always had a few occupants ready to throw on their life jackets for the next adventure with the Captain. (Photo: Erik Kramer)*

I still remember the flurry of phone calls that this purchase incited:

‘Is this because of Dad? Is this how she’s grieving? Can she even afford this?
Does she need to see a therapist?’
‘Was this her decision, or did our brother (we didn’t even use his name in this case) drag her to the boat show and get her to buy a boat? If that’s the case, shouldn’t she be saving her money for retirement and not buying something he thinks is a good idea?’ (We dispensed with kindness very quickly, assuming the worst. Sorry, dear brother—you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.)
And, of course, shaking our heads, ‘What will she do with a boat? Where will she use this thing? No one even has a place on the water! This is ridiculous!’

And A Camp

It gets more interesting months later when Mom announces, ‘I’ve rented a camp for the season on the lake.’

We knew the lake she was referring to. It was the Holy Grail. She had spent summers as a child at a lake in Maine where her parents owned a camp. (They sold the camp when she was away at college, and she never got over it.) It was the lake we vacationed at for two weeks every summer during our early childhoods, renting different camps in various states of disrepair. Years ago, camps at lakes in Maine were very rustic. You had to bring drinking water in, and the quality of furnishings and kitchen appliances was questionable. The mattresses famously smelled like bum—I still remember looking at one pre-schooler who made this proclamation upon arrival, and I said, ‘Now, how do you know what bum smells like?’ After a confused look, she giggled.

*The camp Grandma rented for the summer season for almost ten years. (Photo: Erik Kramer)*

My mom rented a camp fifteen feet from the water with a dock for the summer season for almost ten years—until the owner retired and moved there for the summer months. Mom’s kids and grandkids enjoyed the lake experience with her as they grew—some into their teenage years.

A Different Kind of Legacy

The lake is special to multiple generations and, when mentioned, brings Grandma and some of her shenanigans back into our minds. The boat purchase and camp rental offered wonderful experiences during formative (and parenting) years:

Learning the skills to become a real fisherperson. You place the live squiggling worm on your hook (yourself) and cast your line to catch a ‘fine, fat fish.’ And if you want to eat ‘em, you get to help scale and gut ‘em.
Learning to water ski as soon as you can swim.
Experiencing the thrill of tubing, including leaning into the wake so that a water spray hits your sibling in the face while he’s trying to do the same to you.
Swimming in pouring rain when there’s no thunder or lightning.
Diving for freshwater clams. Why do this? Nobody knows.
Learning to eat lobster with Grandma as a master teacher.
Buying corn from the farm, not a store.
The art of a well-cooked marshmallow and eating s’mores at the nightly campfire.
Learning to drive a boat when Mom and Dad agree you’re ready.
Brothers-in-law getting to know brothers-in-law. Extending the family but keeping it tight.
Hanging with siblings and cousins.
Swinging in a hammock with parents, aunts, and uncles.

Fish, fish, blah, blah, blah, fish.

If my kids had a choice between Disney World and the lake, they’d pick the lake hands down.

Why Start With A Boat?

When we asked Grandma years later why she bought a boat, she responded:

“You can’t stay on the lake unless you have a boat.”

— Lorelle Lawlor

So the lady who always seemed to ‘wing it’ had a multi-step plan.

My Mom left a legacy of multi-generational family fun at the lake. She took the cost and essential requirements off the table and made it easy for all of us to enjoy the lake and our time with her. She instilled a love of family and enjoying the great outdoors together. We have many great memories at the lake with her and because of her.

What legacy is better than that?

What Now?

The boat is long gone, and the camp my mom rented has probably been sold—maybe even multiple times.

Our extended family continues to grow, with another generation added to the family tree.

We might need a boat.