I’m not sure how I feel about writing this retirement blog. This is a strange thing to say but I think the reason will become clear as I proceed. At least I hope so.
Many years ago I had a hero, his name was Stephen Covey and his most famous book was called The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Those were different times and I probably wouldn’t call upon his wisdom nowadays but, as I say, they were different days and I was able to include much of his research in my day to day work as an educational psychologist.
But that’s not what I’m writing about in this retirement blog. I’m writing about his recommendation vis a vis leaving a legacy. You can see why this topic would be slightly uncomfortable for somebody my age. If you don’t, let me explain. It makes me feel uneasy because it means I’m taking seriously the prospect of shuffling off this mortal coil. Even if I can’t actually say the D word.
So scary, yes but, in one sense, this has been quite liberating in that it has made the idea of starting projects at this time in my life OK, rather than ridiculously over-optimistic you know on the grounds why bother planting a whole new batch of vines when you’ll never see the benefit. Or go through the tedium of applying for change of use for the barn which you may not use all that much.
Even more so with the Colorado cabin. Are you nuts, you’ll never get to see it let alone live in it? But when one starts to think in terms of leaving a legacy and, providing you like your kids of course, then it all makes sense. True it calls for a degree of unselfishness not traditionally part of my character. But it’s developing, I think.
OK, it’s true that my current definition (and it may change) of leaving a legacy isn’t exactly noble. I’m sure other legacy leavers would be thinking in more glorious terms, beyond their immediate family – to aspire to ridding the world of disease and starvation. That type of ambition. But anybody with a bob or two can do that. Philanthropy I think it might be called, not sure. Not really my thing. Unlike one lot of our friends who are leaving all their money to charity. But then they don’t have any kids. For our children, well, may be.
In some ways in can be taken too far this, it’s OK I’m leaving ‘something for the children’ business. I realised this when I had finished reading an article on my phone about American millionaires who were buying ‘an interest’ in lower league (leagues 3 and 4 in old money) English football clubs. The rationale for this recent interest by American buyers was that they were ‘authentic and cheap’.
Cheap, at least compared with Premiership clubs and even EFL (second division in old money). And if you want authenticity in terms of history then you have the fact that many of these clubs have been in existence since 1880 or there abouts. Now that’s quite historical in American terms so you can see the attraction from that point of view.
I’ll tell you though they’re going to have their work cut out if they want to impress cynical, hard-core British fans. For example I think Wycombe Wanderers (founded in 1887) was the club where one American owner had invested a lot of money installing new seats only for the fans to comment – that’s very nice, we appreciate the comfort, but can the seats score goals?
What, by now, has this got to do with me leaving a legacy, you ask? Only that I wondered briefly about investing in some shares in my long-lasting love of my sporting life, Nottingham Forest. Why now? Well, it would be a legacy for the children. There is a definite flaw in this rationale. None of my children or their spouses have any interest in Forest at all. Quite the opposite.
Nonetheless, it made me smile, for a short while, that the concept of leaving a legacy could be stretched to such improbable lengths. After this moment of madness, investing in our vineyard, barn and the cabin seem quite sensible.
Back to Stephen Covey for a moment. He believed that there were 4 Ls that a person who wanted to lead a full and meaningful life must pay attention to while they were still living their current life. Leaving a legacy was obviously one of the four. And at the original time of reading – probably 20 years ago – the one of least interest to me. To live (I’ve forgotten what this actually meant and I can’t be bothered to go back and read up on it), to love and to learn were the other three and these seemed much more worth my attention.
And now here I am not only paying proper attention to what my legacy might be, but also actually using the concept to justify some pretty big decisions / investments at the tender age of 72. Who knew it would turn out like this?
I’m not sure where this unlocking of the concept of leaving a legacy might take me in the future. Who knows what other hair-brained, far-fetched, ridiculously impractical schemes might be justified under this recently-arrived-in-my-thinking, concept. In the past, before this legacy business really embedded itself in my mind, my only experience of leaving a legacy was my cricket Wisdens which I keep buying (or rather my daughter buys me for Father’s Day knowing she will reap the benefits) and, at a stretch, my guitars but then as none of the family can play a guitar, that really is a stretch.
But now after a taste of the improbable, well who knows where I might go. So I guess the answer to the question in the title is, yes.