Legacy

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.




It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.”

― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

I like the sound of this.  Legacy for it's own sake always sounded a bit self-important to me; but leagcy as the last refuge of your soul, sounds warm and comforting.  Wondering now, where would I like my soul to rest when I die?  And where is my grandmother's?  I wanted so much to find her Melting Moments recipe yesterday, and maybe this is why.

Wash, rinse, repeat

Thanks to you, Adam, I am going to pick this blog up again and see where it wants to go, this time. May it be entertaining and surprising and, above all, stand in place of my really terrible memory ...