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  • Writer's pictureKD Webster


The Backstory will continue next week. This week I kinda want to just - I dunno - talk. Before my blog morphed into what it is now - interviews done in series- it was intended to be me jotting down my views on superheroes, animation, pop culture, and radioactive doughnuts. A bit of politics got thrown in from time to time. This was during the height of the whole "Trump thing" the other year ago.

(And for those of you who may decide to read any of my politics-based blog posts, I should note - and I stated this in one of those posts - I am neither Republican nor Democrat. I don't even consider myself an Independent. I'm a country over party type of guy.)

Even after the steering wheel turned my blog in the direction it's currently going, there were breaks along the way where I posted thoughts that had nothing to do with interviews. Such is the case now.

For you, my readers, I have a question wrapped within questions.

What do you want to be remembered for? How do you wish your legacy to stand?

Yes, we are all flawed.

Yes, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Yes, history shall be our judge.

But how would you wish history to look upon you? What are you doing to further your place?

Legacy. What you leave behind. What you will be remembered for. How you will be immortalized.

These are questions I ask myself from time to time. A course correction during my flawed moments. A pause before I place another well-intended brick.

Legacy. My son. He's my one and only. My pride joy. My heir to the throne. He is what I leave behind when I depart to join the Elders. I am flawed, as all humans, but I refuse to use that as an excuse. Because even if I don't care about how anyone else sees me, I do care through what lens my son views me.

After all, "If Daddy does it, if Daddy says it, I can too. Right?"

Where am I going with all this?

I have no idea. Like I said, I kinda just wanna talk.

Remembering when my son was born. I was working in Arkansas. He was born in Texas. When his mom went into labor I was thinking I still had plenty of time. After all, on tv it seemed to take hours. Plus, isn't that what all mothers say?

"Boy, I spent umpteen hours giving birth to your big-head self!"

Starting to think maybe mama exaggerated a bit. Because just as I was wrapping things up at work, I received a picture to my phone of my newborn son.

The speed at which I told my boss I'm now a father while grabbing my keys while throwing my report on his desk while hastening out the door. Eighty to ninety miles per hour on the interstate to get to the Texas hospital.

My newborn. He was sleeping when I picked him up. Cradling him in my arms, he awoke. Locked eyes with me. Stared into the windows of my soul. Looked deep inside until he found his place. Then went back to a sound sleep. Right then and there I gave my word to him. A promise I have kept all these years.

"You are my legacy. From now on, everything I do in this world, I do for you."

And sure, this post could lay out the blueprint for my own enduring footprint for my son, but if I did that this post would also end up being as long as a novella.

That said, I will add one last thing. Some of what I've been seeing in the news lately. So much violence. So much pain. Then there's social media. The rage, the vitriol, the hateful words. If there is one thing a writer knows, it's the power of words.

Some doors, once opened, can't be closed again.

Some lines, once crossed, can't be uncrossed.

And words, once said, can't be taken back.

"I'm sorry" can't fix it. "I didn't mean it" won't cut it.

What you leave behind is how you will be remembered. How you will be remembered is how you live on in the hearts and minds of others. Your legacy. Legacy is a component to how to become immortal.

I dunno, guess I just wanted to get a few thoughts out in print. Thank you for reading.

Take a break from your world...visit for a while in mine. Come often. Stay for a spell.

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