Today is December, 1st, 2021, a full 7 months since election night. 214 days. 30 weeks to get used to being the mayor. It still feels weird. I don’t know if it will ever stop being strange. Sometimes I drive through a neighborhood and it just hits me out of nowhere, “I’m the mayor of this” and it still feels stunning.
Today’s post is not going to be about policy. It’s not going to be about the city. It’s not even going to be about politics. Today I’m in a somber mood and I want to talk about something that I’ve been asked several times and it always makes me bristle.
What do you want your legacy to be?
Legacy. That’s weird. I never ran so I could have a legacy. I don’t care about getting my name on a building. I don’t even mind if nobody remembers who I am (honestly that sounds a little more like my comfort zone). But apparently there’s an expectation of a legacy.
Of course I want to be known as the mayor who didn’t fail. There’s a lot riding on that one, but I think that’s probably every mayor’s single largest hope. We all want to be the mayor that had a steady hand, made good choices, and led the city through prosperous times.
Alas, we are human. I cannot pretend that I have all the answers at all times. I cannot fall for the false security of believing that I am always right. I cannot believe it’s possible to ever make everyone happy.
What I am in control of is my own humanity. I will be remembered as the mayor that was kind, the mayor who spoke up for the people who needed a voice, and the mayor who helped.
It sounds cheesy, right? Except it’s not.
Walk into any elementary school classroom and ask the kids what they want to be when they grow up: they want to catch bad guys, put out fires, and heal the sick. Police, firefighters, doctors, nurses, teachers, soldiers – kids, by and large, choose to help people. They choose kindness. They choose to make the world better for total strangers. Kids are awesome.
Somewhere along the way, we lose that pure, unblemished compassion. We replace the desire to help people with the quick satisfaction of Internet barbs. We choose to swap consideration for bullying. We show aggression in traffic and put ourselves first in public. We stereotype, we judge, and we gossip. We tear each other down. We see problems and leave them for someone else to deal with.
My legacy will not be a park or a project or a building. It won’t be a place you can go or a thing you will see. My legacy will be in the preservation of Maya Angelou’s famous quote: “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”.
My sincerest hope is that you will remember this time in Leander as one where you were happy. You were free to be yourself. You were safe – physically and emotionally. You considered your neighbors friends. You felt there was no other city you’d want to live in, that Leander was not just a place, but that it was the embodiment of “home”.
I choose to act as mayor the same way I act in my personal life. I speak up when something needs to be said or someone is being wronged. I forgive easily. I offer for others to go first; I ask what they think, how they feel, what they need. I meet every new person with a bright smile and the belief that they are fundamentally good. I trust too readily. I worry for strangers. I apologize for things that aren’t my fault. And my only regrets stem from giving in to my own temporary fears that froze me in place when I should have spoken up.
Life is fleeting. If the pandemic taught us anything, it’s that we can’t always expect that we’ll have the same opportunities tomorrow that we have at this moment. Don’t put off the things that matter. Introduce yourself to someone new, call a friend who might be lonely during the holidays, smile at the clerk that might be having a bad day. Stay up late, go for ice cream, read one more page, default to “yes” and see what happens. Say the words that need to be said, cheer for the underdog, tell the other team they played a good game. Embrace that carefree, charitable spirit we all had as kids. And love your life, all that it is and all that it will be, here in Leander.
