 |
Home | Search | Browse | About IPO | Staff | Links |
|
Home | Search | Browse | About IPO | Staff | Links |
|
What Legacy Will You Leave Behind?
A year ago, I had the pleasure of digging into the past to write a column about our sister association, IAPD, as a salute their 75th anniversary. I'll spare you the cliches about the passage of rime, but I do recall thinking, 'Next year, I'm going to be in the same boat as Ted, reflecting on the meteoric changes that have taken place since IPRA was born in 1944.' And so I started researching the sixty-year history of our organization, scanning photos of people long gone and policies and benefits hard fought for. But as I began to work on weaving a story of what has transpired between 1944 and 2004, I realized I had something more important to say about our past (and indirectly about our future): I realized that retrospection was all well and good - but the most important reason to look back to the past has more to do with individual accomplishments than collective ones. I concluded that the passage of time is truly all about leaving an individual legacy, which is how this column earned its tide. Ever wonder what people will say about you when you're gone? I'm not just referring to the glowing eulogy you'd like delivered at your funeral or the number of floral arrangements bearing your name at the wake. I'm thinking of the legacy you will leave when you step outside your agency door for the last time because you've gotten that hard-earned promotion, relocated or made it to that long-awaited retirement. The question I'm asking is this: When you depart, will you leave behind a dynamic, positive and unique imprint on our profession — or will your legacy fast be forgotten because your investment in co-workers, the community and your colleagues wasn't high on your list of priorities? Leaving an individual legacy doesn't mean you have to earmark a bundle of money to underwrite a new park. You may be rich in talent, rich in caring or rich in enthusiasm. It's likely you may not even realize the essence you radiate in terms of the small kindnesses you do for others, but in the end, they count. When you depart, will you leave behind a dynamic, positive and unique imprint on our profession? Granted, each of us wants to "leave" on a good note with head held high and pride intact, but a legacy doesn't have to be apparent to have value. Consider the story of Wesley Howard of Oregon. Mr. Howard was known as "Old Man Howard," a crotchety gent who spent decades chasing children off his farm, shotgun in hand. Generations considered him the meanest man in Jackson County, and you would have been hard-pressed to find anyone who disagreed. Wesley Howard was a loner. He never married; never left Oregon and lived his entire life in the same place, a centuries' old farmhouse with no phones or toilets. His home was cluttered with mountains of old newspapers, discarded toys barkening back to his boyhood and countless mementos of his family's past. We'll never know what there was about his past that resulted in his antisocial behavior, but the fact is Wesley Howard was so feared — and sometimes despised — that when his 68-acre farm was split into two new subdivisions, no one dared cross his land to get to the other tract. The community collectively took the long road between the two subdivisions rather than risk being fired upon. Time passed. The Jackson County community left Old Man Howard isolated and undisturbed until the day news broke that he had died of a stroke in March of 2003; mean and grouchy to the end of his 87 years. I'm not sure about this, but I suspect his funeral was a rather lonely affair. Howard's death didn't cause the slightest sympathetic ripple, but when his last will and testament was read, the community was stunned to learn that the area's biggest curmudgeon had left a legacy that would forever change the way the people of Jackson County Oregon thought of him. The reclusive Howard had left an estate worth 8 ¦ Illinois Porks and Recreation WHAT LEGACY WILL YOU LEAVE BEHIND? $11 million dollars.
Here's the shocker. He bequeathed his entire fortune to Jackson County for the specific purpose of building a youth sports park on his huge farm. His will stipulated that the tract would be a place where children could come and enjoy sports, get fit and run between the two new subdivisions. In its entirety, the living memorial would consist of 68 acres filled with laughing and smiling children — sights and sounds the Howard property hadn't witnessed for eight decades. On many accounts, townspeople misjudged Wesley Howard, yet despite the fact that he appeared to want nothing to do with the community, he left a legacy that will live on forever in Jackson County, Oregon. The relatively uneducated man seemed instinctively to know things that even the most gregarious of the townspeople didn't necessarily acknowledge. He understood that the preservation of open space is essential to the quality of life — especially the lives of children. Despite the demeanor Howard exhibited to the world, his desire to provide a place for children to recreate is an unselfish legacy most of us can learn from. Why? Because Howard's generosity wasn't about getting approval, getting noticed or getting cash. There was nothing "in it" for the late Wesley Howard but the knowledge that his gift would serve countless generations to come. And he wouldn't even be around to reap the glory. What will your legacy be about? You don't have to be rich to bequeath your own gift. All of us have the ability and many opportunities to sow a heritage of small accomplishments that ultimately create a huge personal investment in others. Each of us can invest in the lives of our colleagues, clients and neighbors, preserving open space, assisting in the promotion of parks and recreation and ensuring that our state association helps every member construct a legacy of his or her own for generations to come. As IPRA celebrates 60 years of tireless work on behalf of individual members of our profession, I invite you to ask yourself this question every day as you prepare to come to work: "What legacy do I want to leave?" Make it a habit. Ask the question. Create your own heritage. Then go out and make your personal legacy a reality. • December/January 2004 ¦ 9 |
|
|
