In the past year alone, the New York Times used the word legacy on more than 3,000 occasions. The mentions have a broad scope:
“Exploring Pittsburgh’s Legacy of Steel”
“Alicia Keys, Usher and Patti Smith Honor the Legacy of Gordon Parks”
“Marlene Dietrich’s Legacy Still Glitters”
What is legacy? Does it matter?
Some influencers preach the importance of establishing your legacy. Other people don’t think about legacy at all. That doesn’t mean they’re not leaving one. The people in the space between those extremes are an interesting group too.
They may have built a lasting legacy. But they don’t do what they do for personal recognition or for ego. They’re the ones who lead a life of honor, love and sacrifice. The ones who show up, imperfect, yet always entrenched in the values and character that shape their personal constitution.
Some people aim to leave a legacy for their own sake. But the latter leave a legacy as a gift to generations who follow, providing a trail of information, lessons or opportunities, offered with no strings attached to people they may never know.
In its noun form, legacy is defined as “something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past.”
So, legacy is not inherently positive. It can be negative. And it can be neutral. And legacy can take many forms. However it is characterized, and whatever shape it assumes, legacy lives in stories. Your family legacy lives in your family stories.
What stories do your family members hold that you might like to preserve? What about your own personal odyssey up to now? I bet your nieces or sons would love to know some of the details you have lived, but they just might not yet know to ask.
It’s personal for you. And it’s personal for me. I’ve been immersed in these conversations this year since I’ve been hired to gather stories and help others preserve their family legacies. Gratifying doesn’t begin to describe it.
I’m currently in the process of going through transcripts from recent interviews with people who opened the door to their heart for me. Some stories are really funny. Some are heartbreaking. Some are just fascinating. All are expanding my scope of human compassion.
They’re real experiences, stages of personal or professional evolution, memorable lessons, and in some cases traumas that were so poignantly shared… that upon hearing them, I could feel my blood stirring or my own respiration changing. This is human connection. This is the oneness of being. This is the power of story.
The traditions and unique characteristics of each person have a finite window of availability. If they’re not gathered, one day they’ll be gone. Forever. Unless, that is, a family member, matriarch or patriarch gets intentional about gathering family stories now. It’s not about stirring up pain. I know the prospect of this can cause defenses to rise. It doesn’t have to be comprehensive. It’s about gathering what you can while you can. Some history gathering is better than none.
In 2025, maybe you’d like to try this: Ask, “Would you tell me your story about …”
And wait for the lights to go on in someone’s eyes. You won’t have to wait long.
However you start the process, I encourage you to begin gathering the memories, the stories, the voices, the quirks, and, yes, the recipes too. First, it’s fun. Second, it breaks familial ice. Third, it makes each person feel seen and heard.
Whether you write the stories down or record them on audio or video, the important thing is just to begin. What I’ve discovered in my service for others is that the mere idea of starting the journey of gathering stories sparks new conversations within families. It bridges divides. It brings vitality and energy.
There are DIY books and apps that can facilitate a similar end. The annual Christmas invitation of a friend announced to her family to “come bearing stories.”
Will you be intentional about preserving some family stories in 2025?
I say this again and again: It curates a culture of curiosity and caring within your family. It can be the simple pleasures, the minutiae, the mundane and the miraculous. It benefits those living now, and it’s a priceless gift to your family’s future generations.
I wish you a year of deep connections in 2025.
In the words of Ram Dass, “We’re all just walking each other home."
