Legacy, March 14th

Way before the actual workday started, I clocked in at physical therapy. I have a painful disc issue so I was lying on my back with heat and stim bombarding my trouble spot when I overhead a woman saying to my therapist that she had been up until 3:30 in the morning making eggplant parmigiana because her son was coming home. Up until then my eyes had been closed as I was trying to be still and relax. But hearing her rave about her terrific son of course made me think of my terrific son, and the care she was putting into this parm? Oy! It was clear that food was her form of showing love. (As a Jewish Mother, I can totally relate!) She went on to say that truly this dish was becoming her legacy.

When my treatment ended, I sat up on my padded table and started a chat with her. “Don’t even talk to me,” I said to her, using my palm like a stop sign. “Now you have me craving eggplant parm and it’s only 8am! I’m cursing you from over here!” She laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I lost my husband last year and it was his recipe so now when I make it I can hear him yelling at me– too much sauce Ellen! And– not enough salt, Ellie!” We both shared a poignant laugh together. “I think it’s great that you’re honoring his memory through his love of cooking,” I told her. “And hey, if you have leftovers, I’m just saying that I’ll be here Wednesday too, so feel free to bring in a square!” She laughed again.

On the slow walk home, I was thinking about my legacy. The actual things I’ll leave behind, the memories I’ve shared, the sayings, rules, tips, tricks, and life hacks, the recipes and restaurant recommendations, and the general remembrances people might have of me when I’m gone. Just as I was thinking all of these very deep thoughts, I found myself passing my son’s old elementary school, P.S. 199. Their school motto was, “Work hard. Be kind.”

I stood for a minute with both hands gripping the slatted iron doors. I remember doing extensive school research before we moved from Chelsea to the Upper West Side to live in catchment. I was looking for a school that would be inclusive and represent the diversity of the City, be connected to cultural centers with special access to museums and landmarks, and one that taught a healthy sense of self, and respect for all others. P.S. 199 checked every box on my wish list and was a great spot for my son’s early education.

The mottos imparted to me from my parents started when I was young. I’m so fortunate that both of them are still around– healthy, happy, influential, and outspoken as ever! My Dad’s platform covers give to charity, be a leader, volunteer your time, be logical, sensible, and methodical, vote with your feet (your presence shows you care), follow up, be generous with those that take care of you– especially the less fortunate, banana cake makes everybody happy, sunshine is key, comfortable shoes are essential, and family first.

My Mom is big on cards that count, never staying angry, the strength of learning and education, always encourage and support your children, no dream is too big, the “leave nothing in the vault” mentality of enjoying what you have today (diamonds go with jeans!), being a gracious guest as well as a gracious hostess, ice cream is life, a good mascara can change your outlook, scarves should be regarded as jewelry, stay hydrated, sparkles rule, and family first.

After I graduated college, I said one day I’d want to return to Emory to teach a class called Life 101– a mandatory class in the core curriculum that would educate students about the real world so that when they crossed over from passive scholars to self-sufficient young adults in the working strata, they knew what they might encounter and be well prepared to face the financial, emotional, logistical, and professional challenges that lie ahead. (I’m still working on my lesson plans should Emory come a callin’ and you can bet that the parental playbook will be worked into my robust agenda.)

Bequeath is an awkward word. It sounds like an embarrassing noise your body makes when you get up from a sticky chair. (I hope you’re laughing. I needed a little levity after that very serious riff.) If I had to summarize my legacy, my list would be incomplete– I have only just passed the proverbial mid-point of my life, although I know the years that follow this one are now all truly a gift, for nothing is promised.

I hope that my legacy would contain a big (but concise) paragraph describing my journey of bonding through sharing. Case in point: I blog! I think I’ve shown that I support and empower people by being a good listener and offering hope, positivity, honesty, and encouragement when asked for my input. I’m sure mixed into my not holier than thou dossier, there would be some verbiage on there being no excuse for a bad dessert, and a history of being quite testy when service has not been up to snuff. Everyone who knows me knows that lunch is critical, having a tan is a healthy necessity, words can be magical, a hug from the right person at the right time is incredibly life affirming, excitement is contagious, and finding passionate connections is a forever goal. I try to enjoy every bite, and love is absolutely everything to me. Oh, and like the Mothership, I do love a little glitter! Not a bad list overall I think, right?