Editor’s note: This column was included in the Sept. 5 version of The Pulse, a weekly BankBeat newsletter sent to subscribers.
In advance of a recent move, I found the sorting of life’s accumulations into keep, discard and donate piles to be a significant task. Any move can be an occasion to downsize, and so it became my husband’s and my goal to donate far more than we kept. The task grew emotionally fraught, however, when we reached the keepsakes that had once belonged to deceased loved ones. Decisions had to be made about grandma’s silver and grandpa’s scrapbooks. I wondered if I’d ever again thumb through my mother’s yearbooks. What does one do with an old stamp collection? How many passed-down clocks does one family need? And while great uncle John may have appreciated the poetry of Robert W. Service, was I really obligated to keep his books shelved with my own? And yet the prospect of letting them go felt like a betrayal.
In a small way, the decisions we grappled with centered on remembering. Possessions connect us to the past, and for some, keeping mementos close allows us to “possess” and keep alive our most cherished memories. We write and tell stories for the same reason — to ensure that we will be remembered. Shaping our stories while we are alive puts our legacy somewhat under control.
Community bankers have legacies that are bound to the work they do to build and support their communities. The bankers we write about are famously generous when it comes to supporting healthcare or education or public safety initiatives. Beyond philanthropy, their lending investments keep businesses going and support entire economies; their work is the lifeblood of healthy communities. The best legacy stories are not vanity pieces or songs of praise. The meaningful legacy narrative gets to the impact of one’s passion and how it has been converted to a mission — and an outcome.
I’m writing now about a banker in Kansas who is elbow deep in an economic revitalization project with the dual goal of adding affordable housing to her downtown community and honoring her late father, a community banker for whom a thriving downtown was central to his 70-plus years in banking. These passion-informing-mission features are among my favorites to develop and the most gratifying to share. There’s no gathering of dust when good work inspires more of the same.
I think about the week after Labor Day as the threshold that brings us into the season of higher productivity. It’s exciting to think about all the projects that can be undertaken before the lazy days of summer return in nine months – all the great work that might be accomplished and what impact those efforts might have on others in the years to come. The shaping of legacy can inform all of our days in one way or another. But it especially can inform our workdays. I can’t think of a better reason to get up in the morning.
