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Guest column

It isn't up to us how we'll be remembered

By GEORGI DAVIS
Published November 14, 2005

It all started so simply.

A friend of mine took her husband to the doctor for some minor eye surgery. Before going in to have the work done, my friend's husband turned to her and said, "If I don't come out of that little room, what is the one thing you would say about me when I'm gone?"

Without hesitation, she replied, "You had a great sense of humor!" He wanted to know if he would be remembered as a good father. She told him she was sure his children would think he was a very good father.

That said, he went in, had the surgery and came out in fine shape.

This started me thinking. (It never takes much.) I wondered what people would say about me after I left this earth.

I knew that many of my students would say I was a great teacher. I also knew that some of my more troublesome students would say I was really mean.

My grandchildren all call me Crazy Gramma because I used to do some bizarre things with them, like play the skunk Pepe Le Pew on the bed, bouncing up and down on all fours.

At Christmas and Thanksgiving, I always had a door prize. It was usually something no one really wanted, but there was always a surprise for someone. The one they liked the most was a ceramic bird with a tire track over its stomach. We called it the roadkill. It became such a treat to get that it started showing up as a birthday gift, or just any day when the receiver was not expecting it.

At any rate, I was thinking about perception. We all have our own thoughts on who we are and how we would like to be remembered. I like making people laugh. I hope I will be remembered as someone who brought a little sunshine into each life, even if that is not always the case.

We are remembered by how we touch each individual. So, after pondering all of this, I asked my husband what he would say about me if I died tomorrow. His reply was nothing.

I asked again and he said that he couldn't answer. He would have to think about it. This made me a little angry, so I said, "You mean you can't think of a single thing to say about me?" He didn't reply.

I said, "Is this a case of "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all?"' He just looked at me and laughed.

Finally, exasperated, I said, "Well, if our friend Betsy passed away, what would you say about her?" His instant reply was, "Oh, she's a lot of fun!"

By now I was on a mission. So I e-mailed my children to see what they would say about me.

My son e-mailed me back almost instantly. His response: "I hope they have a smoking section in heaven." Knowing his sense of humor, I e-mailed him back: "Thanks for thinking I'll get to heaven. When and if I do, I won't need a smoking section."

He e-mailed me back: "Now you've got it! Love, Dave."

My daughter e-mailed that she would remember that I had always been there for her. She wrote that even though I am far away, she knew I would be there if I was needed.

My brother said he would remember me for my unconditional, unjudgmental love for him. (What a nice thing to say!)

One acquaintance said I would be remembered for my versatility, another for my great body (at my age, I liked that one!) and another for being her friend.

My husband finally, after much harassing, said he probably would remember me as a good cook. He then said that I was just too complex to give any one answer, but he would think about it.

This is not what I wanted to hear. I should have written him the script! Unfortunately, most of us are remembered for the one bad thing in life we do, sort of like President Bill Clinton always being remembered for Monica Lewinsky.

We all hope to be remembered for the good we did in life. I only can hope I've done enough good to outweigh the bad.

--Georgi Davis lives in Homosassa. Guest columnists write their own views on subjects they choose, which do no necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper.

[Last modified November 14, 2005, 01:03:13]