What Will You Leave Behind?

MY FATHER did not die a rich man. He did not leave us a big house or an assortment of stocks and shares. One might say, he almost died a pauper.

Yet, he left us a living legacy neither fame nor fortune could buy.

At his wake, I finally met his boss — a Mr Gourley, whom I had heard my father talk about but whom I had never met. I thanked him for giving my father a job that enabled him to see my sibling and me through tertiary education.

Mr Gourley said he had done so because of an incident that occurred when they were working together. A company had shipped an extra 500 boxes of goods that were not listed on the invoice. My father reported this to him.

My father was made a laughing stock by co-workers who said he could have pocketed the goods, and no one would have been any the wiser. But Mr Gourley judged my father an honest man.

Motivational speakers and marketers these days like to encourage us to leave a legacy behind. Often, a legacy is defined as physical gifts of money or other personal property.

Insurance salesmen will stress that we have to leave some money behind for our children in case death comes unexpectedly. And yes, it is good to plan ahead and make sure our children are well taken care off.

But how many of us have taken the time to examine our lives and see what other kind of legacy we are leaving behind? How do we treat our colleagues, neighbours, spouse and parents? What is our attitude towards money, leisure and material goods?

What about our relations with people from different races? How do we handle adversity? Do we give our children a life of comfort, or do we ensure they are able to handle failure and fear?

As an educator, I have seen parents lose control of their children because they did not establish a good relationship with them when they were young. I have seen how these youngsters' friends have a greater say in what they do, say and wear than their parents have.

I met parents who work from before their children wake up until well after the kids' bedtime. In one case, a rebellious teenage boy proudly proclaimed to me that he had been brought up by the maid as his parents were too busy earning money.

I can understand the need to work hard as the cost of living in Singapore is high. My father had to work three jobs to earn enough to send us to university. Yet, in his own quiet, uncommunicative way, he ensured that values like honesty and diligence were instilled in us.

Once, I asked a student why he was not concerned with doing well for the O levels. He told me bluntly that his father's business would see him provided for through to old age, so he did not see the need to work or to have an education.

I asked him what would happen if his father's business failed? He confidently replied that this would not happen. One can only infer that he was so used to a life of luxury that he could not foresee any other scenario.

In our drive to provide our children and ourselves with a comfortable, stress-free life, have we produced a generation of children who have lost their drive?

That hunger in the belly which the pre-1960s generation had, that helped transform Singapore into what she is today? That sense of mission and purpose we had when independence was thrust upon us?

There is a Chinese saying: A family inheritance will not survive the third generation. The first generation of Singaporeans gained independence, while the second have performed an economic miracle. Will the third and current generation squander the wealth away?

That will depend on the kind of legacy we leave for our children — just as our children are a living legacy to how we live our lives.

This article first appeared in TODAY on 13th December 2006