It’s one of those books that everybody’s talking about. So, if you are a writer, or alive for that matter, you risk being a pop culture outcast if you haven’t read it. So, I picked up what was being tagged as a dramatic and inspiring piece of work, “The Last Lecture” by Randy Pausch. Several people specifically recommended it to me, saying that I would love it. That I had to read it. So I finally broke down and grabbed a copy. Only halfway into the book, I put it down for good. I didn’t like Randy. Couldn’t stand him. Thought he was a conceited, self-interested, selfish man who chose leaving a legacy behind instead of spending his last days with his family. Then I paused. Wow, what a cynical reaction to something that usually brings tears to readers!

I quickly realized why I had such a visceral reaction to Randy’s story. He was just like me. As I mentioned in an earlier post, if I’m not careful my natural desire to be a successful, published author, to achieve my own 15 minutes of fame (or hey, 30 if I’m lucky, right?) will take over and drive my decisions, overtake my passion, steer my heart. I’m not suggesting, necessarily, that Randy’s motivation during his final days was wrong or misguided, only that in him I saw something about myself that I didn’t like at all. It was a wake up call that if I spend too much time focused on the footprint I leave behind, I will have neglected the path I took to get there and the example I set along the way.