As
I have continued reading Lonnie Aarssen’s book, What We Are, I ran
across another interesting idea. He claims, and is probably correct, that human
evolutionary psychology has been strongly influenced by the awareness that we
are going to die. Many aspects of our cultures result from our responses to the
certainty of our deaths.
One
category of response is to create something that outlives us. Most of the
estimated 90 billion people who have ever lived have not left any trace, other
than perhaps a name on a record somewhere, that they ever existed. It doesn’t
take many generations for this to happen. My great-grandfather exists now, as
far as I am aware, of two photos from about 1890, a grave, and some DNA in his
descendants.

But
people who have had more money and power than did my great grandfather can do a
lot more to create an enduring legacy. Rockefeller and Carnegie had endowments
that are still giving awards to people. Simon Bolívar has a country named after
him. These legacies create the false impression, while we are alive, that we
will not die, and after we die, that we are still alive. In the Becky
Hobbs/Nick Sweet musical Nanyehi, devoted to our ancestor Nancy Ward,
the great Cherokee leader, the Nancy Ward character says, when you see the
white swan’s wing, know that I am still alive. Of course, she isn’t, and there
is remarkably little of her personal effects that can still be found (she died
about 1822). But Rockefeller, Carnegie, Bolívar, and Nanyehi are still having
an impact on the world.
Sir
Francis Bacon noted that childless men put more into their legacies (he was
thinking of creativity and intellect) than do men with big families precisely
because they have no physical posterity. Wikipedia lists no children for Bacon.
I have one child and two grandchildren, but this is below the world average.
The
main motivation I feel in creating a legacy of writing is that I do not feel
that I should hoard for myself the insights I have encountered in life. I want
to share them.
Another
category of response is to lose ourselves in hobbies. This allows us to ignore
the fact that we will die. My Dad, for example, recorded country music on
hundreds of reel-to-reel tapes, and spent countless hours documenting and
organizing them. They have almost all disintegrated. I have his tape of country
songs sung by our next door neighbor’s brother, Truitt. Are these hobbies just
a way of killing time?
That
is clearly one purpose of a hobby. But some of us try to turn our hobbies into
legacies. I have thousands of photographs. They would be depressing if they
were just a pile of pictures. But since 2007 all are digital, and I scanned the
others. I labeled each photo with a descriptive name, and the year, so that the
next generation of my family will know what each one was. Just in case they
ever look at them. Of course, my daughter and family are in my photos also. You
can see about a thousand of these photos (mostly of natural areas, not of me
and my family) at my newly refurbished author website.
One
of the best ways to create a unique legacy is to write a book. Major commercial
publishers have published six of my books; I plan one more; all about popular
science and history. I have also written articles, which are on various
databases. My website is me, in the future. The books that I know I
cannot publish through increasingly unstable commercial publishers will be, or
so I plan, on Amazon. My tech-savvy son-in-law can probably find a few minutes
a year to maintain my digital presence long after my passing. The essays on
this blog, starting about 2008, will be available perhaps as long as the
internet exists.
And
that is pretty much what I do these days. I have no hobbies that are just for
killing time. Time is precious, and I want to use it—all of it—to make the
world better. This includes activities that maintain health and vigor, since I
do not want all of my work to collapse if I have a stroke or something. And to
keep me happy, since I do my best work as a writer and a grandfather by being
happy. I hope to put a reasonable finish to my work and then, one day, I just
won’t wake up.
Of
course, my main legacy (both biological and cultural, even spiritual) will be
my family, which so far is resisting extinction, and consists entirely of good
people. World, you will be glad we were here.