I'm getting older. I read the obituaries in the paper and think about where in life I am compared to the recently departed. I'm surprised how often the occurrences noted in the obit happen before age 40. I also note precisely what people die of, and how old they were, and make the quick calculation about whether I'm likely to meet the same end. Right around the time you get this, I'll have emerged from an appointment with my doctor. This is the sort of thing that matters to us oldsters.
They say that writing your own obituary can bring perspective to your life and cause you to make the sorts of choices which would make you a better person. In the business school class designed to prevent us from being the leaders of the next Enron, we wrote a couple of obituaries for ourselves. I was probably too young at the time because I thought the exercise more than a tad silly. "I was going to do some fraud, but one time I wrote my obituary." Judging from the egotistical imaginativeness we brought to the exercise, we were probably more likely to cut corners to achieve some life-defining trophy. It's better to read other people's obituaries and learn from them. For every gem of a life, there's Scott Thorson.
What makes a life a gem? I doubt it's writing your own obituary. It's got more to do with integrity. I've lifted a nifty working definition of integrity from my old summer camp director, Ron Mackey. He used to tell us to connect integrity with integrated in the sense of being the same person in every situation. I took that to mean bringing our best and whole self to life, or, in the inverse, not being different things to different people, playing a chameleon to please other people, or living down to lower expectations. The remarkable among us achieve this: they are fully their best selves, they draw others into their good orbit, and they encourage us to do better.
By all accounts Neil King was such a person. While I never crossed paths with him, more than a few people I knew did. When he died a few weeks ago, I saw praise for his life in more than a few of my online haunts. Below I've linked to Jon Ward's eulogy for Neil where I found that sense of integrity as an integrated life.
Neil King was also a gifted writer. The Wall Street Journal excerpted part of his book American Ramble last May. The essay caught my attention and I wrote about it for you. Here's the choice quote:
But, if just once in your life, here's my advice: Take a long journey on foot. Nothing gives simple joy and satisfaction like walking. A long stroll over days or weeks can reveal a world and a self you didn’t know existed. It can open you to a state of deep attentiveness and reverence that is otherwise elusive.
How good is that? Neil King wrote that after he'd gone several such rambles, including one when he was in remission from the cancer that would kill him. He brought his best self to the sides of highways, to people he'd meet only once in a peripatetic ramble, to Mennonite schools (read Jon's eulogy), and consistently to his neighbors and friends. That spirit jumped off the page when I read his piece in the Journal; his book has finally made it to my list. What a writer; what a life.
requiescat in pace
Reading
A Tribute to Neil King Jr.
The author of "American Ramble" was a magnetic force who changed those around him.
Take a walk - Issue #332
I'm not sure why this piece resonated with me: I don't travel all that much and I've never gone on the sort of walking trip the author recommends. There's something about the simplicity of Neil King Jr.'s travel that contrasts, favorably with most itineraries. One time, he walked from DC to NYC.