As the miles passed, there was little conversation in the van. Funerals – particularly Masonic funerals – cause members to reflect on things like their own mortality. There were SO many funerals these days it seemed. So many men returning from military service in World War II sought and found a comradeship so similar to that of the military right there at home in their local Masonic lodges. Now, though, so many of them were passing to their eternal rest….
The Master broke the silence. “It was nice to see so many members of our lodge there today, don’t you think? It was a long way to travel and he was our District Deputy so many years ago that I was concerned that most of our younger guys would stay away. I’m proud of them for making the trip and I’m sure his family and his lodge members appreciated us travelling there.”
The Senior Warden who was driving nodded affirmatively. “All of the lodges in the District had a respectable representation. After the past several years of declining membership, I’m glad our Brother got to see the start of our renaissance. I’m told he’d worked hard for Masonry all his life.”
The Treasurer, the oldest of them all, sitting in the back of the van leaned forward. “He joined Masonry just a couple of years before I did and we’d met once or twice at district events. Many years later, we got to know each other while serving on a Grand Lodge Committee together. I remember one day at the annual Grand Lodge session about ten years ago, we happened to sit together for lunch. I told him that things at our lodge were looking pretty grim. Of course this was back well before any of you had joined.” He turned towards The Old Webmaster sitting in the co-pilot’s seat and grinned: “Or, in your case, before you moved to town and affiliated.” He resumed the story. “You know, he just leaned back and smiled. He said to me, ‘Stop worrying about your legacy. Get on with the good work of Freemasonry. The legacies will take care of themselves.’ Well, I was just stunned. I didn’t really know what he was talking about but he just smiled, slapped me on the arm, and went on about his business. To this day, I’m not really sure I fully understood what he was trying to tell me.”
The sounds of the motor and the wheels rolling toward home were the only sounds in the van for several minutes. Finally the Master broke the silence. He turned towards The Old Webmaster. “You knew him pretty well, I gather. Do you know what he meant?”
Everyone in the vehicle knew that the comment was directed to the man who, although sitting sideways in his seat so as to be a part of the conversation, had been staring out the front window seemingly lost in thought. “I think perhaps I do…” he said thoughtfully. “We’d actually discussed the issue of legacy at length once when we carpooled to a meeting in the capital. He fully understood that each of us as Masons leaves a legacy implanted on our lodge and on our Brethren. It might be powerful or it might be nearly insignificant but in any event, our passage as a Mason would leave a mark. That mark – good or bad – would be the legacy we left and if we tried our best to live our lives according to the tenets of Freemasonry, we’d live respected and die lamented…just as it says in our ritual.”
There was another long pause while each of those in the car assimilated that thought.
The Treasurer broke the silence once again. “Not every Mason leaves a positive legacy though. He had some major problems in his own lodge a few years back I recall.” His voice softened even as he was completing the sentence. He began again, “I think, though, that they were ultimately the better for it. Those who stayed, ignoring the din from that fellow who was out for his own glory, seemed to really grow and prosper. They’ve got a very strong lodge now and the negativity seems to have been superseded by many some ongoing positive legacies that are being created. I guess he was right, now that I think about it: ‘Get on with the good work and the legacies will take care of themselves.’”
The Old Webmaster coughed slightly. Only the Senior Warden, driving, didn’t stare – although he too glanced towards the passenger’s seat. “One of the things our late Brother knew was that we who’ve ‘been around the block’ as Masons can be Legacy Coaches. We can help the newer fellows understand that what they do today – what they do tomorrow – creates a legacy, good or bad, and that it’s entirely up to them how they’ll be remembered. Leader or loser, winner or whiner: what they are to be, they are now becoming.” He paused but for several miles and several minutes, each man was deep in his own thoughts.
“Legacy Coach….” the Senior Warden finally said quietly, so quietly that the Treasurer in the back seat could barely hear him above the road noise. “Helping others make a positive difference. Darn good thing – and something I’d sure like to be remembered for….” His words trailed off as he nodded affirmatively.
Other heads in the car bobbed gently in agreement as well, each realizing that this day they’d perhaps taken on – quite unexpectedly – a new role. The Legacy DID take care of itself.
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