I’m going to be eighty-five in March. And, according to the conventional wisdom, that’s a big deal. I’ll be “old-old” after ten years of being “young old” (75-84). Looks like it’s time to think about my legacy.
Our sons and grandsons, who are big part of that legacy, live far away and we talk to them more via electronic gadgets than face-to-face. Seth, our older son, is in Brazil, working on a book and going to the beach. When he was in New York in December, writing, directing and starring in his zany “Amigo Gringo” videos, he told us that he now (very occasionally) listens to Mozart on vinyl, as his parents did when he was a child.
Jeremy, our younger son, is in Maryland, trying to keep a school financially solvent. Today our grandsons Leo and Grady will get the dog they’ve been wishing for “forever”. And Katrina will soon have a new kitchen. Jeremy will continue -- but hopefully not complete – his attempt to eat in the hundred biggest fast-food chains in America.
They’re our legacy. I’ll be sorry to leave them but, while I’m still on this side of the grass, they make me smile.