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WHAT WILL BE YOUR legacy? It’s a question many of us ponder as we get older. My conclusion: It’s the wrong question to ask.
The fact is, the whole notion of a legacy is a tad delusional, and very likely a trick played on us by our genes, which want us to care deeply about future generations. The reality: Most of us will leave scant mark on the world and we won’t be remembered for very long after we’re gone.
Age has a way of hammering home this point. For instance, after we leave a job, it’s sobering to discover how quickly we and our contribution are forgotten.
Similarly, it’s sobering to see folks, whom we recall as famous, all but disappear from the public consciousness. In the late 1980s, I visited George Goodman at his home near Princeton, New Jersey, to interview him for an article. Goodman, who was better known by the pseudonym Adam Smith, had written bestselling books and hosted a popular public television program. He died in 2014.
Today, the only time I see Goodman mentioned is when folks—talking about the stock market—quote from his 1968 book The Money Game: “If you don’t know who you are, this is an expensive place to find out.” A decade after his death, that seems to be the extent of Goodman’s legacy—a man whose face was once familiar to many Americans and whose first nonfiction book was a No. 1 bestseller for more than a year.
The all-too-obvious lesson: There’s no immortality on this earth. We will not be long remembered. If that’s our life’s motivation, we’re kidding ourselves.
I, of course, don’t want to discourage anybody from doing good deeds or striving for greatness. We’d all be worse off if folks gave up trying to better both themselves and the world, feeling it’s all pointless, and instead retreated to the couch to eat Cheez Doodles and binge-watch Netflix.
So, if we aren’t creating a legacy, what should motivate us? I’ve always liked the notion that we stand on the shoulders of those who came before us—that our ideas and our work are built on the efforts of those who preceded us—and that those who follow will build on the work that we do. But that doesn’t mean we know whose shoulders we’re standing on. Their work may have been important, but there was no immortality.
If we won’t be remembered for what we do and, indeed, our good work may end up being discarded, what should motivate us? Once again, it seems the journey is more important than the destination—because the destination is a mirage, one we never reach.
That brings me to the three questions developed by George Kinder, a pioneer of the life-planning movement. The questions are designed to help folks figure out their life’s purpose. I especially like the second question: If you learned that you had five to 10 years to live, but you’d feel fine until the end, would you change your life and, if so, how?
I think it’s a great question because it gets us away from wrongheaded notions of legacy, and instead gets us to focus on who and what we care about. We shouldn’t ask, how will we be remembered? Instead, we should ask, what are the things I really want to get done before I die? It’s striving toward these important things that’ll make us feel like we’re leading a worthwhile life—and, if we do so, one happy byproduct is that perhaps a few folks will remember us fondly, if only for a short time after our death.
So, what should we do if the doctor informs us that we have five years to live? The answer will be different for all of us. My answer: To the extent possible, I’d want to make sure that Elaine and my children would be fine—financially and otherwise—after my death, and that my demise wouldn’t cause them undue hardship.
I’d also like to find somebody to take over HumbleDollar. I might even pen a few articles that would appear after my death. Yes, I’ll admit it, I find that sliver of immortality appealing, akin to winking at the world from the grave.
It reminds me of what Rick Connor’s dying mother did, writing notes that her nine grandchildren later received at milestone celebrations—such as high school or college graduation—along with a $100 savings bond. Rick’s mother may have been gone, and yet for a brief moment she was once again present in the lives of her grandchildren, bringing wistful smiles to their faces.
Jonathan Clements is the founder and editor of HumbleDollar. Follow him on X @ClementsMoney and on Facebook, and check out his earlier articles.
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through life mindlessly.
Thanks again for what you are doing here!
on a side note when we lived in the Princeton area back in the 70’s and 80’s, I regularly consumed the Packet. Finding a way to put local news media on a sustainable path is something many of us might devote some attention to going forward.
Thanks, Jonathan. What you have created with Humble Dollar is not a legacy, but it is meaningful and of value to all of your readers.
I forwarded your article to a few of my more thoughtful friends and family members. While there is no answer, of course, to the existential question, it’s worthwhile think about it and not just travel th
I have thought of how I will be remembered after I am gone. Will I be remembered for all of the volunteer hours that I put in picking up litter, encouraging neighbours to plant trees, beautifying my community, etc? Some have told me that I inspired them to volunteer but I’m not sure if that inspiration will continue after I have passed. Over the past 25 years I have become close to several Mexican families. The husbands, brothers, sons, and cousins from these families worked with me at my landscape company. My company went through the bureaucratic hurdles to get them work visas. After I sold the company I have remained close to some of the families and I help them financially each year. I would like to think that after I am gone that my memory will remain with the families, that in a small way I made their lives better. For me this would be the greatest legacy of all.
Jonathan,
I awoke today thinking of your article, and remembering two ways thoughts of imminent death have affected my life. The first happened Easter of 2020. when my cousin called to offer a piece of property I had asked him about a few years before. It was owned by his sisters and him. He had ridden to a meeting with three other men the week before, and found out they had been exposed to Covid. He wanted to settle our deal while he still could, and not leave it for his family. I’m thankful for the property, and also that he did not get sick. The other three men where seriously ill and one died.
The other is a small, but regular interaction between my wife and me. I make it a point to never part without a warm goodbye, however brief. I don’t want either of us to have a final memory that we regret, in case we never again meet in this life.
My idea to be remembered by my kids should annoy them.
I will buy a grave at the end of the cemetery with an ATM near it. This ATM will be limited to just $1000 per week. If they missed the week, they missed a $1000. I’m sure they will remember me for years. 🙂
I’m reminded of a story–maybe from Dale Carnegie’s book?–about the mother who complained that her son would not answer her letters while he was away at college. When the woman complained to her brother, he wagered he could get a reply to his first letter. He wrote a chatty letter to his nephew, and casually mentioned a sum of money he was enclosing in the same envelope. But, he sent no money. The nephew’s reply, asking about the forgotten money, was very prompt.
I thought I had a simple solution to this legacy question.
Write your own eulogy and identify what the gaps are. Get started with a goal to fill these gaps in 5-10 years. Bingo! You lead a purposeful retirement and, as a bonus, your children will have great eulogy to present at your funeral.
My Dad fell on Friday the 13th and passed away on April 1st–April Fool’s Day! He was a jokester with a good sense of humor and he loved his email jokes, that he forwarded to his friends. I flew back home and just before the funeral I fired up his computer. He must have had some of his email jokes sitting in his “out” box that fired off when I turned on the computer. His friends thought he had sent one last joke from beyond the grave…it was a great story at his funeral!
A quote (cartoon) I keep above my computer is:
“Some day, we will all die, Snoopy.True, but on all the other days, we will not.”― Charles M. Schulz
Thank you for this, Jonathan. And thanks to all the commenters, especially for the memorable quotes. Aren’t words something that may outlast us, a useful turn of phrase that helps people… Even as languages change, excellent turns of phrases and stories persist, repeatedly translated for new peoples.
Here are two I use every day.
First from Pericles, a key operator in the development of Athens and western civilization as we understand it today:
”What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”
and then from lunar astronaut Russell Schweikart:
“You see the earth as a bright blue and white Christmas tree ornament in the black sky. It’s so small and so fragile – you realize that in that small spot is everything that means anything to you, all of history and art and deaths f birth and love.”
For me, it’s not a hypothetical. I was once told I had two years. Left unsaid was the near certainty that the second year was not going to be a good one. So I effectively had one good year remaining. All I wanted to do with it was make memories with my wife. We took cruises and trips, saw things that we had always wanted to see later in life, and just laughed and enjoyed each other‘s company.
Fortunately, a medical science breakthrough coincided with my diagnosis, and I’m still here. I’m not living life with the same urgency, because that would be totally exhausting, but I’ve been able to retain the day-to-day experience of joy and enjoyment.
My wife, meanwhile, has returned to her usual routine, and I have to keep reminding her to stop and feel the sunshine.
The late great author, Steven Covey, once suggested: “To live. To love. To learn. To leave a legacy – That’s what we all want.”
How appropriate it seems that a willingness to embrace the first three items on his list (live / love / learn) typically results in the “dearly departed” achieving some meaningful degree of the last one (leave a legacy).
The questions that we ask influence the answers that we obtain.
I believe that the question “how will I be remembered?” is pretty self-centered and not a good place to start.
i ask myself “what can i do to make the world a little bit better?” I usually find ways to share Gods love everyday.
I am not concerned that my name will be remembered, but I hope that s Me remnants of the l influence I have on those around me will continue long after I am gone.
Reminds me of Dust in the Wind by Kansas. https://youtu.be/tH2w6Oxx0kQ?si=qlo0sw4k96V5Wnwx
Last year, on Broadway I saw Tom Stoppard’s play “Leopoldstadt” which is about the effect the Holocaust had on a big Jewish family in Vienna. Besides the building climax of the piece where the inevitable tragedies are going to occur over time, one moment struck me as I sat in the audience. At one point, someone mentions that all the photographs in the family collection will at some point in the future be forgotten by future generations who will have no idea who these people were. A woman’s high voice in the audience screamed/yelled in horror briefly when that line was said; she certainly “got it” right there and then about obscurity and who will be remembered/forgotten in the future. Her real-life epiphany was almost as scary and sad as what later was transpiring in the play.
Even some folks who were huge movie stars in their time are now mostly forgotten. I love TCM (Turner Classic Movies) and as a kid, used to love revival houses which showed old movies, something I picked up from watching on tv with my parents. Someone like Kay Francis, once renowned for her beauty, her acting and her on-screen wardrobes, had actually fallen into obscurity, even though she made a huge output of films especially in the 1930s into the 1940s, until being rediscovered in more recent years by film buffs. Frankly, she herself wanted to be forgotten towards the end of her life, apparently having had a rough time of it. Another huge star Deanna Durbin, with a gorgeous singing voice, adored by the likes of Winston Churchill, Angela Lansbury and Anne Frank, abandoned Hollywood at the top of her career at age 28, moved to France (out-Greta Garbo-ing Greta Garbo, who despite the reputation as a recluse could be seen frequently in New York in retirement), never to return, granting only one interview in later years. But she was wonderful – hugely loved and influential during her prime, with fans and producers longing for her to return to film for years after her retirement, and her films still give great pleasure if you seek them out. Does anyone under 60s who isn’t a movie buff know her? Even her first co-star in movies, Judy Garland isn’t as well-known nowadays, outside of annual showings of “The Wizard of Oz”, where she’s known more as “Dorothy” to first-time viewers. At holiday times, you’re more likely than not to hear some other singer on the radio singing “Have Yourself a Merry Christmas”. So when I see each year’s crop of Oscar or Grammy nominees and other award nominees and winners, it’s nice that they are celebrating the current crop, but they might be ignoring the fact that others who’ve been in their place have been replaced by others and themselves in turn. Too many audiences have the viewpoint of “out with the old, in with the new”. Maybe they’ll have a channel like TCM (hopefully that something like that remains) to pull them from obscurity in the future.
Writers and composers have a better chance of their names and output being remembered – the names and many works of Shakespeare, Dickens, Verdi, Puccini, etc. have endured for many years. Also some visual artists, inventors and also, for good or bad, noteworthy politicians, royalty and other heads of state might be remembered. I think good advice will also live on, even if future generations don’t know exactly who expounded it though. So keep writing, Jonathan – your influence on others on combining personal finance in pursuit of happiness (yes, I’ve noticed a theme over the years) does and will make a difference on those who remember many of the points you’ve made and who will in turn pass on to others some of the worthy ideas you’ve written.
Thanks for the thoughtful comment. As I said in the article, there are so many once-famous folks who have disappeared from public consciousness. That should be sobering for anybody today who thinks they’re a big success — or for those who imagine they’ve failed.
Good, thought provoking article, Jonathan. Cancer can force the type of assessment you wrote about above regarding George Kinder. Making it through treatment to ring the bell will rearrange priorities, and I’m very grateful for the unimportant, non-renowned, rich in small experiences life I’ve chosen to live now. When one faces mortality, the pursuit of more money drops a few notches in importance. It seems an appropriate perspective.
I’m not that worried about my legacy, you see I’ve already written a book.
I’m very introverted, I’ve never been married and have no children. Neither my brother nor my sister had any children either. Of the 4 places that I worked after college, only one still exists (a U.S. Navy laboratory that I left in 1980). After I’m gone, it’s unlikely that anyone will remember me for long.
Although I’ve supported the non-profits that I care about most, I’ve usually requested that my donations be listed as anonymous and have refrained from telling them how I want them spent. I admire a couple who are the major donors for a new building at my alma mater. Rather than naming it for themselves, they requested that the name be selected from suggestions submitted by students.
I certainly won’t be leaving the college enough to have a building named for me, but they have suggested that it will be enough to endow a scholarship. Maybe that would be a way to keep memory of me alive in a small way for decades to come.
I too am very introverted and didn’t raise any children. I sometimes think about who I would leave my estate to should I outlive my husband. The idea of a scholarship is appealing. Excellent idea!
Excellent article. I see legacy donation plaques in places of worship, museums, and fine arts institutions. Yet, more often than not, I have no idea who the people are. Perhaps a reason to consider giving with a “warm hand”, so that you can embrace the joy of how your current legacy can be shared with others.
I’m not interested in my legacy. I made up a word: ‘live-acy.’ I’m more interested in living.
John Glenn
Great article Jonathan. I used to love his show, Adams Smith Moneyworld. Any chance you have a copy of the article?
I don’t — sorry. The article appeared in The Princeton Packet, which I used to do some freelancing for, when I was trying to compensate for the miserably small paycheck I got from Forbes magazine. One thing I remember from the interview: George Goodman hated the pseudonym Adam Smith, which had been picked for him by New York magazine’s editors.
Very good article, right on point. I always think of Mark Manson’s comment in his book “EVERYTHING IS F*CKED: A BOOK ABOUT HOPE” where he
wishes to write the following on every Starbuck’s customer’s cup.
“One day, you and everyone you love will die. And beyond a small group of
people for an extremely brief period of time, little of what you say or do will ever matter. This is the the Uncomfortable Truth of life. And everything you think or do is but an elaborate avoidance of it. We are inconsequential cosmic dust, bumping and milling about on a tiny blue speck. We imagine our own importance. We invent our purpose, we are nothing.”
Looks interesting, thanks Charles
A good article for me to read especially as I prepare to drive my 89 year old mother-in-law to a funeral where she is the organist for the service.
Jonathan, thanks for the great article. And thanks for the nice mention of my mother. It’s a good memory.
At the time she wrote the notes, her cancer was far too advanced for her to write legibly. My wife Vicky transcribed her words on to the cards. She remembers it as a teary event – they went through several boxes of tissues – but one she cherishes.
The cards, delivered from the grave, had a significant impact on my sons and their cousins.
I learned from Ben and took action in the 80’s when my children were born.
You can still leverage another’s great, innovative ideas, immortality, legacy. Join Ben Franklin and pursue a practical adjustment that would “renew” his innovation for generations to come. I’m having fun contacting my Congressional reps – sharing stories of Ben, the first American, and his legacy. Small efforts, with time, … big potential impact … without adding to deficit/debt. Happy to share if you want to contact your federal reps.
https://401kspecialistmag.com/let-ben-franklin-create-middle-class-millionaires-eradicate-poverty-in-america/
I confronted my mortality in my 40s. Awaiting major surgery for what seemed like months but was only a few weeks, my thoughts turned to ones similar to yours. What I realized then was acceptance. No bucket list, no need to “do” more or to change things, just gratitude for each day and for the totality of my life experiences. Two decades later, those beliefs still guide me. I am at peace with what life will bring and content with living each day simply and well.
I often think about this as a pass cemeteries or walk among very old ones with grand headstones and monuments. Who were these people? Nobody is alive who remembers, nobody visits and maybe never did and yet their names are carved in stone- in an effort to have the future remember?
If we are truly to be remembered it will be in the experience held by those whose lives we have touched and then only one generation.
Having purchased a stone and laid before it the remains of my spouse, who died a mere 9 days after finding out he was ill, I view these places quite differently. And I wouldn’t have done that had I not, some thirty years earlier, travelled with him to rural Kansas for a reunion with my cousins. We visited together a county cemetery to find the grave of a great aunt who died in a farm accident at age four, then located on the old homestead a lilac bush that still serves as the marker for an infants grave, stillborn in deep winter. We were unable to locate a larger family graveyard on the property, though it had been visited by my cousins many times when they were children, the graves may have originally been marked with wooden markers that over the decades had decayed and the general area has gone to pasture.
When my husband was dying, I asked him if he was okay if I built him a Taj Mahal. That made him laugh. So I knew it would mean something to him to be remembered, at least for a while.
I still visit his grave and lay flowers most every week, and his little corner of the cemetery has attracted a couple of new monuments, one an interesting memorial to a “lady of the night” and bar owner, placed there by a local community group. I like to think his grave will be noticed by dog walkers and passers by. The type of people who read headstones and think about those here in times past. They will “remember” him from his marker and the words the kids and I decided to place there, long after people who knew him personally are also gone.
I made sure to put a few interesting items in his grave should it be disturbed by robbers in future centuries. This little cemetery is no Sutton Hoo, but I read regularly about legal and moral disputes over everyday antiquities that were buried as grave goods. Who should have rights to them, where they can be safely and honorably placed.
Far be it from me to minimize the importance of marked graves. I’m leaning into the wisdom of millenia, and as a widow it brings me solace to know that many people have shared at least some part of my own path, in seeking a way to memorialize their loved ones and ease those persons’ journeys into the unknowable.
Have I gone on with my own life? For sure. Do I think I’ll be much remembered, or that he will? More likely him than me, and not for long as you note. Does that ignominy and anonymity bother me? Not a bit. Just trying for some fun as well as service to others along the way.
Nailed it, Dick…
We are seeing the philosophical Jonathan Clements and we are enjoying him!
Your article clearly encapsulates my feelings regarding all the fuss about a legacy.
When we leave this world, we should be remembered by how we treat others; the little selfless acts, compassion and kindnesses, and love we have for everyone. Our achievements are the summation of the positive impact we have had on the lives of others long after we are gone.
My father’s memory lives on each year at RMD time, when his grandchildren receive ever-larger distributions from their inherited Roth IRAs.
All this talk of optimism and immortality reminds me of the gentleman who wished to be buried in a copper-lined coffin, thinking it would help his arthritis.
Good thoughts. Consider this: at this moment, we may actually have just five more years to live—or maybe less—but we won’t discover that fact until much closer to the last day. Perhaps we should put our final plan into action today?
Longfellow:
“Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
…
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;”
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44644/a-psalm-of-life
I agree. What legacy we’ll leave isn’t a really useful question, and what we want to get done before we die is a much better one.
My first thought was similar to yours – make sure my wife is good. After that, we can’t say we’d change much about our life as it is now.