Opinion: About Legacy and Broken Washing Machines

Has been updated: 17 few minutes ago release date: 17 few minutes ago

My watch broke Eric and Cassandra’s washing machine.

Alone at home, I “rushed” to wash a pile of sheets that were flopping listlessly back and forth like hooks in a drum, and I wondered if the washer had finished for more than three hours.

Eric got home and after a little research, confirmed it. Unfortunately, the potential repair costs will be at least half the cost of a new machine. It’s time to upgrade.

To ease the guilt of breaking it, and to thank them for their recent hospitality, I offered to buy them a new machine. They chose it and I gave them my credit card. And then something was installed that I had no idea how to operate, and that resembled a space capsule. Everything is fine. That’s just how commerce and guilt work.

Except…a strange thought came into my head and I spent an unnatural amount of time thinking about it. Is it possible to purchase some sort of stamp on this machine that identifies it as a “Susan Morgan Memorial Washing Machine”?

Am I the only one thinking about legacy these days? As someone of a certain age who has spent an inordinate amount of time in the doctor’s office lately, I can’t help but wonder why, or even (shudder). if –When my time comes, I will be remembered. What are people my age doing about this? I’m not going to cross a major watershed any time soon, but it’s clearly too late to raise the millions of dollars I want to bequeath to the Anchorage Museum. , maybe I could build a little gallery or a little hallway named after me. And I never wrote the book I’ve been talking about since third grade. Stupid me wrote it in the newspaper! It’s here today and recycled tomorrow. There is no lasting legacy.

“What if,” a small voice whispers at 4am. “What if I wasted the years I’ve been given? There’s plenty of time to write books, build buildings, and donate to charity.” But I, and most people I know, did no such thing. We went to work, raised our kids, went grocery shopping, cooked a gazillion dinners, and yes, we did the laundry. We laughed, cried, argued, and fainted. We loved, lost, and loved again. All of them uniquely perfect and imperfectly human.

Some people say that if we’re lucky, our children are our heritage, but I’m a little hesitant about that. My children are truly their own beautiful creations. I was blessed and honored to be there from the beginning, and they deserve all the credit for the amazing people they have become. So here I am, seriously considering soiling my brand new washing machine. During this time, I am reminded of the kind words my grandfather, who was not particularly religious, often used to say to me. “If you pray for me, I will pray for you.”

How about expanding that a little? If you remember me, I remember you too.

susan morgan I’m a freelance writer. She lives in Anchorage.

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