“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  

I do not belong in the same sentence as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. The ripple I have made in the pond surrounding me falls incomparably short of the waves brought by the tsunami of his impact. I will spend the rest of my life dutifully working in the nonprofit sector, volunteering where I am able, serving where I can, and writing what feels necessary to me. Despite this dedication, I will still fall short.  

Yet, the words in Dr. King’s final speech touch me deeply. His words led me to books, interviews, news accounts, and stories about the night before a coward with a gun in Memphis assassinated him. Speaking to a crowd of striking sanitation workers, Dr. King paints a beautiful portrait of the journey toward justice. He also speaks of legacy and the time in which we are born. It is his time spent wrestling with legacy that is forcing me to do the same.  

With threats against his life piling up like sandbags in preparation for some levy breaking, I think of a Dr. King attempting to put the full scope of his legacy into perspective. Realizing the impossibility of the task, he concedes that if his life shall end, then so be it. The impact of what they accomplished will linger into eternity and much longer than a shot ringing in the Memphis sky.  

This gives me significant pause. It forces me to think about how I want to be remembered. It also forced action. See, wishing is not enough. If I want the next words I write to be true, then an abundance of action is required.  

In November of this year, I will turn 40. If I am lucky and the universe possesses any grace, the 8th of November will mark the halfway point of my life. Stretching before me, I hope to find 40 more good years spent attempting to have the ripple in my pond reach a little further. When those years end, I hope to leave behind the following legacy.  

I hope my partner will say that our love is the greatest love he has ever known and hopes to ever know, that the good days outnumbered those days of challenge, and that the journey was one of happiness and wonder.  

I hope my family will say that I was a son, brother, uncle, cousin, and nephew without comparison, that I always showed up when needed, and that I inspired them to live their best lives.  

I hope my friends will say that I was fiercely loyal, dependable, and kind, that I was always available for a laugh or deep conversation, and that I gave more than I took.  

I hope those affected by my work will say that I was a powerful advocate for forgotten communities, that I used stories to shape hearts and minds, and that measured my success by the uplifting of those most in need.  

I hope my community will say that I was creative, curious, and a rallying point, that I wrote, photographed, hiked, cooked, crafted, shared, and created intending to bring people together, and that I made them feel a little less alone.  

I hope those I have wronged will say that I was quick to seek forgiveness and forgive, that I repaired bridges where necessary and closed doors quietly when differences were impossible to overcome, and that I attempted to do right by them.  

Finally, I hope these words ring true. There is still so much work to be done. I have not yet reached my mountaintop and there are miles still left to be traveled. With a measuring stick before me, I am here to tell you I intend to keep walking everywhere I am afforded.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan