Generational Inspiration

How a legacy can be more than just money.

Generational inspiration, like a seed planted and tended to throughout years, throughout generations, growing bigger and more vibrant within each new life.

It was on my list for years, The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson, and finally, I finished the book.

It was in this book that I rediscovered the Chicago World’s Fair held in 1893. A fascinating, fascinating event! I’ve watched a handful of documentaries on the World Fair. I cannot get enough. I am fascinated by world building. I go deep down rabbit holes of the creation of immersive experiences— be it through the purchasing of goods or simply arriving somewhere… but that’s another story!

The city of Chicago won the bid for the World’s Fair and constructed a temporary White City— a city that represented what the makers believed a city should be like (apparently, it resembled Rome and their ivory white pillars).

The fair served as a meeting place for cultures and advancements from around the world. The event introduced the public to things like Wrigley’s Chewing Gum, Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, an early version of the Zipper, the Dishwasher, and the Ferris Wheel, to name a few. Nikola Tesla (among many other groundbreaking inventors) attended and presented to the public his impressive display of wireless lamps.

But one of my favorite things I learned about the Chicago World’s Fair is that Walt Disney’s father, Elias Disney, was one of the construction workers that helped build it. And the reason I continue to come back to this thought and fester on it is because… well, think about it, here’s Walt Disney’s father, a modest construction worker, bringing his small children to the site to see the incredible, immersive fair being constructed. It is said that witnessing the World’s Fair served as Walt Disney’s inspiration for the Disney Kingdom. While Walt Disney’s father’s legacy remains that of something beautifully humble, one could say that the inspiration Elias exposed his son to shaped Walt into the storytelling wonder that we know today.

I so often think about individual lives and what the years can amount to, why we’re all here and the difference we can make with the time we’re given. As a mother of four, I feel a race against the clock to make a lot of money and guarantee an inheritance for my children. I feel strongly that my life (when it can be) should be dedicated to improving the circumstances of future generations.

With the economy being where it’s at and the entertainment industry dwindling, sadly, for a lot of us, the idea often feels further from realization.

A couple of years ago, I experienced the loss of my grandmother. And while I did not receive a monetary inheritance, I do believe that she bestowed upon me inspiration— inspiration that could never have been bought, similar to that of the inspiration given to Walt Disney from his father via the Chicago World’s Fair.

Of course, the inspiration given to me from my grandmother was a little bit smaller in scale and instead of appearing in the form of a famous technological event, it appeared on a small workbench in her basement in Walled Lake, Michigan. But it didn’t matter if the inspiration had a place on the world stage or not. The workbench, with its hundreds of small tubes of acrylic paints, the trusty hot melt glue gun, the spools, the thread, the scraps of fabric, the bobbins of silky and lace ribbons… all proved to be dependable ingredients of worlds waiting to be created by my tiny hands that grew more capable with every attempt at making something new.

My grandmother would babysit me while my single mother worked full time. Our day always started with fluffy cooked eggs from her chickens. After breakfast, she would ask me what kind of craft I wanted to make and she always had a way through her ingenious creativity to bring my vision to life. We made dolls out of spools, we crafted small makeshift quilts out of fabric scraps, we made lanterns out of tin cans, we made insects out of sponges— I wish I could remember it all! During these crafting moments, my grandmother would play vinyl records and we would sing together… ding ding ding! Could it be…the reason for my own endeavors as a professional singer-songwriter? I think back on this time with a tear in my eye because I feel fully that no dollar-sign-inheritance could ever take the place of the gift of song and creativity that my grandmother passed to me.

Additionally, because of the thousands of hours we spent at that little workbench, as an adult, I truly feel that through my creativity, I could find a solution to anything and if not a solution, a method of coping with whatever I am up against. I cannot think of something better to bestow upon my own children. While millions of dollars (of course) help people cope, inspiration can come for free (maybe only at the price of your invested time), and inspiration and creativity can never be taken… by anyone— not the bank, not the government, not any foe!

It is with all of that in mind that I’m able to relax. I tell myself that through accessing creativity and inviting my children to be a part of it, I am teaching them something like magic. I contemplate the possibility of maybe only being a stepping stone on my children’s paths, a boost up toward the achievement of their own dreams. With each piece of inspiration I present, I can keep offering sparks. And with that thought, I am more than content, I feel full of purpose, full of intentional legacy.