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     This morning I was lost in thought.  I certainly had enough work to do and began my workday with full intention of being as productive as possible. Suddenly, I realized how much time had marched itself out my pretty stained glass window.  I had a clear image of my mother’s face, scowling, upon finding me in my room reading or writing something, hours after she had expected me to be out of my sanctuary, my bedroom, and engaged in a household chore or almost-due homework.

       I felt myself holding a figurative compass and a worn map to examine my location in order to begin the rest of the day, the rest of the years, and to be able to put one foot in front of the other as I travel my path or paths. I looked intently at the map and traced back to where I was in the past, noting the connection to where I am now. The threads connected to my past are stronger than I ever imagined they would be. I surely don’t live in the past, but ironically, now that all of my family of origin is gone, I have come to place an enormous value on the wisdom, the ethics, the cultural heritage, the love and the stories I remember both from and about my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, nephew, and my sister and brother.  It is significant to me that there are few remaining who can remember tales of me when I was young. That which is not accessible from my memory chip, is primarily lost. I treasure the fewer than a handful  remaining whom I can contact and at least have some phone visits with, to be able to tap in to their memories. One is my sister’s 98.5 year old mother-in-law, Eva, who, granted, shares a different family history but remembers some things about my parents, my sister, and about me from the age of eight or so. While her sons may sometimes grow tired of her stories because they must hear them often, for me, speaking with her is a joy and a privilege. Her perspective helps me fill in the gaps of some of the memories and invite others to return to me in almost widescreen images with surround sound.

       Though I am not an observant member of my faith, we are approaching the time of year when Jews everywhere must reflect on their lives and atone for their errors, though prayer and behavioral changes. As I prepare to send New Year greetings to the small number of people in my life now who share my heritage, I find myself beginning the process early. I ponder what my legacy is and if it will change with time, as I age as gracefully as I can. It is quite amazing to me that now I am the repository of family lore. I am also the keeper of numerous boxes of family photographs passed down to me. My four children and granddaughter don’t know most of the people who are living, breathing characters in my mind and I don’t even know many of the subjects of the pictures.  I am the elder now and have the task of making sense of those earlier generations of wisdom and teachings, as well as finding a way to weave them into the here and now. It is mighty ironic to me that I, the baby of my family, the perpetual rebel and iconoclast, the one who spent her youthful energy challenging and rejecting, rather than accepting and emulating, has come to assume this role.

        As I begin to write my personal script as a sexagenarian who remains  authentic for ME and for my values, and who continues to lead a life that I feel matters in important ways, I must sift through my legacy “hope chest” and my portfolio. I have been investing in my legacy portfolio all of my life, naturally.  I know that I have many appreciated “assets of accomplishment”, and I hope also some useful knowledge and messages that will eventually be inherited by my children and grandchildren. As so many Baby Boomers are now doing, I ponder how much of my aging experience has to echo that of my ancestors due to genetics, and  how much ability I will have to carve a new and unique space and meaning for myself.  I am working on that.  I know that as a survivor, I am up for the task and am even excited about it. I believe there is always insight, direction and discovery in store, if we continue to ask important questions of ourselves.  I am learning to trust in the natural patterns and cycles of the universe in a way I could not easily do when I was younger.  I know that in addition to my more measurable accomplishments, I want to find increased ways to carry on the voices of my past and my loved ones, and to fit them into my continuing evolution and growth. I know with a certainty I did not have in my younger days, that these voices are really the foundation of my legacy portfolio.