The Legacy of John Doe #59 #cong24 #legacy

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1. Having purpose is important but our legacy is not just what we do on purpose but all the little things we do by accident of being.
2. Legacy is not about ego and attribution. We have no idea which of the little things we do in a day can change someone else’s life forever. It’s the chaos theory of a tornado being influenced by minor perturbations such as the butter flapping its wings weeks earlier in another country.
3. This is dedicated to all the John Doe’s who are lost or are lonely. Some are choosing to stay hidden and some feel invisible and just want to be seen. They have legacy too.

Flaneuse, Artist, Non-Techie Techie, Happy Imposter Opportunist.
At Congregation since the beginning – my Christmas gift to myself every year.

You can see connect via Joan Via Instagram, Blue Sky, and LinkedIn.

By Joan Mulvihill 

She went to the same shop every morning, always rushing but as chatty as politeness for the queue forming behind her would allow. She was new to the town ten years ago. She was still new now. If you don’t know someone’s people can you really say you know them? She never appeared to be with anyone, no husband, no children but you think someone saw her with what must have been her sister once. After a few weeks someone commented that they hadn’t seen her in a while. Probably away with work. Or holiday? Maybe she’s moved to Paris again for a month. Do you remember the time she did that? And then months became a year and you’ve stopped wondering. Until one day someone comes in that looks like her and you remember again. Did she move away? Did she die? Check RIP.ie Does anyone know her name?

Who are you talking about? The woman who used to come in here, you know the one.. .and then, interrupted by a customer, shop life continues and she fades away again until the next time.

When I’m on Saunders Bridge, I think of poor Packie. That’s where I was when his funeral was happening. The saddest thing is that covid restrictions aren’t the whole reason there are so few people there. I would have been there. Poor Packie. He never touched a drop when there was dancing. If only the music had kept playing. Poor Packie. He used to wheel me around the yard in a wheelbarrow when I was small. He is ‘deeply regretted’ by his own family and mine.
What is the legacy of those whose stories are not carried through their children, whose heroics are not celebrated on plinths or plaques, whose estates are not of note for papers? What does it even matter. We cannot take it with us. So what are we leaving behind?

I’m just the woman who comes into the shop. And the woman you meet at Congregation, and the woman from the IIA and the woman who lived next door. Maybe I’m the woman who upset you once, who was impatient in the queue or rude on the phone? We’re all just going around littering legacy without much thought for what we leave behind.

Last year we wrote about Purpose but maybe our legacy is not something that we leave on purpose but rather everything we leave by accident, the accident of being. Maybe our legacy is all the random little things not attributable to us. We are just as butterflies, flapping our wings over here quite oblivious to our resonance over there…

When I’m on Saunders Bridge, I think of poor Packie. I don’t know who the Saunders are that they got a bridge. But Packie, you’ve got my page and I don’t give them away lightly. And maybe you’re on someone else’s page in Kilburn, someone you met at a dance one time, someone I’ve never met. That’s the thing about those butterflies, you just never know where or when they’re going to show up.