When I heard that my former coworker and Clarion-Ledger columnist Orley Hood died, a wave of sorrow crashed over me. I thought of all the group lunches we had enjoyed at the Thai House. I remembered Orley’s stories. I felt blessed to have worked with him. I thought about how much I enjoyed reading his columns. Now, I wish I could read more of them. I really crave an Orley novel. That would have been amazing.
Harold Ramis died yesterday. His creative legacy is long and distinguished. If a movie made you laugh in the 1980’s and 90’s, Ramis probably had something to do with it. Animal House, Caddyshack, Stripes, Ghostbusters, Groundhog Day and those are just a few of the great motion pictures he was a part of. Selfishly, I’d love to see one more Harold Ramis comedy.
Because when creative people die, it tears at the world’s fabric.
I was honored last Saturday at the Cancer Gala. A very nice woman came up and told me the story of her brother’s melanoma recurrence. He had a melanoma like mine and within four years, it had roared back. He’s now Stage IV and is in a brutal fight for his life. I listened and breathed as deeply as I could. Anxiety crept in and clutched my soul. I know I am a ticking time bomb. I know my melanoma could come back at any time. I have a sword hanging over my head. I could die from a recurrence. But I also could live to 100. Or I could die tomorrow crossing the street. We all can.
But it got me thinking. What am I doing to create a legacy? How am I spending my time on Earth? What lessons can I learn?
These are a few of them:
Make the most of every single moment.
Leave no talent’s stone unturned.
Bring joy to those around you.
Craft a creative legacy.
Shuck procrastination and embrace urgency.
Live your life like Mark Twain said: “Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.”
Yes, that’s it. Make the undertaker sorry.
Because Orley Hood and Harold Ramis sure did.