Working On. . .

Some months ago, I was emailing back and forth with a new friend. Nora Simone is a writer among many other things, and she wrote something that really made me think. I reproduce it here with her kind permission. 

Sophie Lynne — At this point in my life, I am working on my obituary, not my resume. I want to be thought of, and remembered for having the right priorities, few regrets, and helping others. 

Wow.  

I thought about that. For days. Months. And I think I arrived at a revelation. Yes, me. Maybe my employment problems, and by that I mean my whole life, are because I’ve ALWAYS worked on my Obituary instead of my Resume.

Let’s look at this, shall we, dear reader?  

As I’ve written many times, I’ve always felt a compulsion to help others. I also have a massive death wish. This doesn’t look good on a resume.  

I’ve always wanted to help others, because I see their lives as having far more value than my own. As I’ve written (too) many times, that’s why I chose education as a path. “I touch the future — I teach” Christa McAuliffe said.  

I’ve always figured that I’d be forgotten within days after death. I still believe that. But if I am remembered for anything, I would want to be remembered for trying to make the world a better place.  

I figured if I had a tombstone, it would read “She failed” because by definition, if the world isn’t better (and right now it’s FAR worse than when I came into it in 1966.) I think the best I could ask at this point is “She tried.” Then again, it won’t be up to me, will it?  I won’t be there to see it through.

At this point — nearly 54 years in — my resume sucks. My masters degree was an impediment. Working the same retail job for 14 years is fine. . . if one is a manager. If not, there are questions about your competence (which I’ve had asked of me.)  

Still, in the end, what lasts longer — a resume or an obituary.  In many ways, an obit is the “last word” on a person, unless some historian starts digging around for dirt. Kind of like an epitaph.

F. Scott Fitzgerald used a line from his book The Great Gatsby as his (and Zelda’s as they’re buried together) “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” Al Capone has “My Jesus, Mercy.” And of course, Lester Moore has “Here lies Lester Moore. Four slugs from a 44, no Les, no more.” Maybe an appropriate one (if I earned it) would be “Pertransit benefaciendo.”

In any case, I’m here studying for my PhD while the country disintegrates under a tyrant’s rule. Poor timing. Maybe I should go where the trouble is and earn that epitaph.

I guess we’ll all find out.  

Be well.

Tags: featured, Identity, opinion

Category: Transgender Body & Soul, Transgender Opinion