[lit-ideas] Re: on not knowing one's impact on the world
- From: Paul Stone <pastone@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Fri, 12 Feb 2010 16:07:20 -0500
I've never done anything that made a lot of people know who I was or admire
me - well except recently, but that's sort of a work in progress - but
something once happened that both put a smile on my face and humbled me at
the same time.
I attended a party about 5 years ago at the parents' of my best friend (who
was not in town since he works on the road and I just happened to be good
friends with his parents). The party was primarily attended by the parents
of a bunch of my highschool classmates and I was struck by how almost every
one of the parents knew who I was and told me how much their kids admired me
or, alternatively hated (i.e. envied, were jealous, etc.) me at that time. I
know that I think of many people who I've come across in my life, but it
hardly ever occurred to me that they would think of me or, even WHAT they
would think of me. It was nice to feel a part of a small town that now
reaches across the globe as most of my school chums/aquaintances have gone
on to bigger (not necessarily better) things all across this little world
while I am pretty much in the same place physically, but vastly different
mentally and emotionally.
Now for the segue...
For anyone thinking they are insignificant, as I often think of myself, I
would heartily suggest you read Douglas Hofstadter's (formerly Douglas R.
Hofstadter) latest (2007) book entitled "I am a strange Loop". Yeah, he goes
on and on about how he hates Bertie Russell and how Goedel was the real man
for 200 pages, but after that, his premise is a heartfelt and neat idea
which in the end, is a loving tribute to his wife who was taken from him way
too early, and is about as simple as lots of Robert Fulghum's pop ideology
-- those near us love us and there are a lot more people that we touch than
we will ever realize. In every person stays a small part of our 'legacy' and
THAT is what we really are. Our mortal selves are on the planet for 100
revolutions if we are lucky (or unlucky perhaps), but throughout our lives
we strew? (what's the present tense of strewn?) ourselves about without
realizing it. So whether Frank Tipler is right, that, eventually, we will
all be immortal, or not, in Hoff's mind, we already are.
Anyway, this is getting too contemplative and it's Friday.
later,
nobody
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