Every Christmas Eve, Humphrey Bogart would slip away from family and friends to watch the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.” When she knew it was over, his wife Lauren Bacall would join him as he told her, “I’ll never accomplish anything important in life. I’m just an actor.”
In fact, he’d accomplished lots. Bogart had survived World War I in the Navy, become an actor and clawed his way up to leading roles in great films like “The Maltese Falcon,” “African Queen,” “Treasure of the Sierra Madre” and, of course, “Casablanca.”
Still, we can appreciate Bogart’s way of observing Christmas Eve. We all have our hopes and dreams. One is to be remembered for great achievements.
Many boys growing up collected baseball or football trading cards, thinking one day they would be valuable. Later, the day came when we realized they were nearly useless. Appraisers told us just because a player made the Hall of Fame doesn’t mean his card is worth much.
Think about the players’ perspective. Even Hall of Famers face being has-beens someday.
When I was growing up in Minnesota, my father and I went to see onetime Yankees pitcher Burleigh Grimes in a hotel banquet room, bought our meal and listened to his talk. Grimes, who had once pitched to Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig and the like, was best known as the last legal pitcher to use the spitball.
When the meal was served, Grimes told the waitress loudly he didn’t like it. He spoke in the voice of an angry old man who was mad at the world. I’d have had my mouth washed out with soap for using some of the words he used. As for taking pictures with him, not a chance.
On the drive home my father said just one thing: “Be kind as long as you can. Some people get that way when they’ve slipped into their second childhood.” That was his euphemism for dementia and senility.
Even good guys slip off the radar. Orville Freeman was a popular Minnesota governor, U.S. Secretary of Agriculture and created the Food Stamp program providing good meals to millions of needy Americans.
Freeman stayed at the job from 1960 until 1969, when he resigned. On the day he resigned, a high-ranking Senator driving to see him heard the news and turned his car around. Freeman to him was already a ghost, a has-been.
Fame was fleeting for more than him. Some of our Presidents — names like Taylor, Tyler, Fillmore, Cleveland, Harrison, Van Buren, Polk and others — were forgotten quickly once they left the White House.
It’s a mug’s game to think we can achieve anything we want, make a fortune, become famous and be remembered for it. More likely, we’ll end up like Joe Gillis, shot by the deranged Norma Desmond in “Sunset Boulevard.” He was a non-starter and she a has-been. If a Norma D type, you’ll be shipped off to some place for the criminally insane and forgotten too.
Even if we do achieve fame and fortune, it doesn’t guarantee we’ll be remembered long once we’ve fallen off our perch. That takes not just being a Great, but a Super or even Super Duper Super Great. Odds are stacked against it. So let’s shift our focus.
“Good” may not sound as impressive as “great,” but in fact it’s better — especially when it comes to our personalities. If we’re going to be forgotten after a few decades, it is preferable while we live to be known for being a good man, cleric, storyteller, neighbor or just about anything else.
I would rather to leave a memory that puts a smile on someone’s face than a litany of achievements. Even better is to leave a precedent for goodness that can be carried forward.
