Your Fifteen Minutes of Fame

Collectively we have such a short memory. In the last few years we refer to this as the fifteen minutes of fame. Today in our issue of the paper we saw a photo of a man who now does fairs and flea markets, but who once was impaled on a sharp point. He is pictured with his shirt held up revealing the scar, his belly button obscured. This is his fifteen minutes of fame.

Most of us do not have anything so graphic to mark our fifteen minutes. We worked hard over many years, and indeed, may have influenced many lives and made a big impact. Veterans of wars used to call my husband because they had a story to tell about their experiences. But no one wants to hear these because the fifteen minutes are up.

As a retired person, I am getting comfortable with this. You did what you did, and you hope it was useful. You go on to other things if you have the energy, but you don't ever expect to have that fifteen minutes again. It's liberating. Occasionally, you have dreams and wishes about what you left. In some moments, you think you could do it better than those you left in charge. And even if you could, you are now gone. Whatever it is to be, your successors must manage.

I am on the board of a small non-profit I believe in. There have been problems with the successor of the retired founder, an executive director who may not be the person needed to do the job. It is so hard for the founder to step back and let it happen. No one wants her to back off, yet we know she must.

For me, as a retired founder of an institution, it took some heart rending ugliness to make me understand that my fifteen minutes were up. I thought my heart was broken. I still think I know best. But, my fifteen minutes are up. And my heart is not broken after all. I wish them well and continue to be interested. I think my spouse could say the same.