There is a six-word story popularly attributed to Ernest Hemingway that goes something like this: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”
Urban legend states that Hemingway wrote it to win a bet with other writers, who bet that he couldn’t write a novel in six words.
It’s considered a “novel”, as it has a complete narrative arc- beginning, middle, and end.
Yet it’s only six words.
There is a question we commonly ask ourselves as a culture: whose lives are worth remembering?
Surely, we assume, it’s the lives of the heroes, the martyrs, the villains, the geniuses, and the philosophers of history.
Surely, we assume, it is those few extraordinary people whose lives produce the most captivating stories.
Make no mistake- I wholeheartedly agree these are stories we need to tell.
But who decided the rest of us should be forgotten?
As it turns out, the sentiment goes way back.
Originally, genealogy was mainly concerned with tracing royal, clerical, or aristocratic lines in order to determine pedigree.
Ordinary people, unrelated to an emperor, king, or nobility, were excluded.
“For sale: baby shoes, never worn” is a terse but chilling story that captures just why this way of thinking is so flawed.
The profound sense of loss and grief it evokes is not extraordinary at all. In reality, it reflects a shared humanity.
When reading the six words, you do not find yourself asking for names or titles to justify any feelings of sympathy, nor do you find yourself insisting upon some proof of status as compensation for your emotional involvement.
You realize at first that this is a tragic story, and then your mind makes connections to sadness you have already been acquainted with.
It’s an ordinary story in so many senses, yet so many of us insist on having an “extraordinary” life before our story is worthy of being passed on.
The effects?
A continued belief that in order to be remembered, you must hold status and power.
The truth?
Being remembered is not something you earn; it’s something you create.
In fact, the question of crafting legacy while making peace with death has been the life-long work of countless philosophers.
“The one aim of those who practice philosophy,” Socrates allegedly pondered right before drinking the hemlock that killed him. “…is to practice for dying and death.”
This was later echoed by several others, including Heidegger, who claimed that “preparedness for death” is a fundamental key to existence.
The question for most of us, though, is what this preparation looks like.
For some, it consists of healing- relationships, trauma, misunderstandings…
For others, it’s creation- art, science, entrepreneurship, social reform…
The notion of legacy as a competition misrepresents this crucial preparation, teaching us that there is a hierarchy to what scale of creation or healing is deemed worthy or “interesting” of honoring.
This idea teaches us that to be the protagonist of a great story, you must also be the protagonist of an unusual story.
Nothing could be farther from the truth.
In fact, in relating to even the most mundane, “boring”, “stereotypical” and “relatable” details of our ancestors’ lives, we are connecting even more deeply to ourselves.
The chilling burden of cosmic loneliness is eased.
As it turns out, we are not alone in our struggles or heartbreaks, our losses or tragedies.
“We have not even to risk the adventure alone,” Joseph Campell, author of The Hero’s Journey, reassures us. “For the heroes of all time have gone before us. The labyrinth is thoroughly known … we have only to follow the thread of the hero path. And where we had thought to find an abomination we shall find a God. And where we had thought to slay another we shall slay ourselves. Where we had thought to travel outwards we shall come to the center of our own existence. And where we had thought to be alone we shall be with all the world.”
This is the elixir: connection.
The vehicle?
To paraphrase Campbell, we all live the hero’s journey in our own lives. The only question is whether we recognize it.
Every life, no matter how mundane it might appear, holds lessons, experiences, and a unique perspective that can enrich our understanding of the human condition.
It’s up to us to preserve these stories in our history and celebrate them.
This way, our descendants will know they have not even to risk the adventure alone. The heroes of all time have gone before them. The labyrinth is thoroughly known and they have only to follow the thread of the hero path.
Sources:
https://www.britannica.com/topic/genealogy/Early-written-records
