Growing Taller by Growing on Who Went Before
No matter where we are, we can leave legacies of dedication, love, and support that generations to come can build upon. That way, they’ll be better because you lived on this planet before them.
There are seven large hydrangea bushes grows in pots on my balcony right now loving the classic Oregon misty cool weather. It always amazes me every see to see how buds form and then fully formed leaves sprout out of the seemingly dead and brittle husks of last year’s growth. Some hydrangeas benefit from having their branches and spent blooms trimmed back but the kind I have—Bigleaf hydrangeas—do just fine growing out of the remnants of the last year’s leaves and blooms.
In fact, I have some hydrangeas that have been coming back each year for a decade now, and though they still start from fledgling tightly bound balls of leaves and have to grow their blooms one cluster of flower potential at a time like a newly planted bush, the experienced bushes tend to far surpass the newer bushes in size and scope and in terms of total blooms.
I have dug deep enough into the science of why that would. I mean, all of the bushes have practically the same conditions: the same amount of water, sunlight, soil composition, and pot size. But every year, the ones that have more extensive framework leftover from the previous year to build on, consistently out perform ones with smaller frames. In my own, unscientific way, I like to think that it’s because the larger frameworks give those bushes more to build on.
Growing up, I had two sisters who paved the way for me going through each new school from elementary, to middle school, and on to high school and even college. They were both exceptional students in just about every imaginable way. They were very respectful to their teachers and their fellow classmates. They paid close attention in class and produced amazing results in tests, writing, and participation in extra curricular activities having won aways at national conferences and competitions from health professions to business writing.
Some people I know find that kind of legacy intimidating and counterproductive because they might feel like they are being boxed in by the expectations set by their siblings. I can understand that sentiment in part, but personally I was always thrilled when I knew that one of my older sisters had taken a course from a teacher I was taking a class from because I knew that I would be starting far beyond scratch. The teacher already thought well of me and knew to expect good things from me because that was how my sisters performed. So rather than having to worry about standing out for getting noticed, all I had to do was to live up to that positive framework that was already built for me.
Of course, I needed to work hard and deliver good things to keep that good reputation, but I was so grateful to be starting on a wonderful footing to begin with. And when we think back on our upbringing and those who have gone before us, maybe we don’t have siblings that were star pupils but I bet if we did some introspection, we’d all discover ways in which our ancestors or our teachers or our favorite librarians or coaches or pastors or mentors have set us up for greater success than we could have experienced if we were left to our own abilities, learning, and skills.
These frameworks that we build upon are pure and true gifts because they almost always do little to benefit those ones who leave the framework behind for us to benefit from. I think about the small but significant ways that some teachers showed a bit more interest in me and shared their expertise beyond what was actually required for their jobs: Mrs. Stanley who took extra time to read my sentimental poetry, Ms. Muller-Orton who trusted me to run the middle school auditorium equipment on my own on the stage crew when I was just 13 years old, Ms. Rostkowski who treated me like a peer as an editor of the high school literary magazine, and so many others. They didn’t get paid one cent more because they shared extra care and interest in me, but my goodness, how much benefit I gained from their incredible influences.
We all are wherever we are. Some might have certain advantages in some respects to build on a more extensive framework laid by siblings, teachers, or ancestors. Some might not be so fortunate in other respects. But isn’t it an amazing thing to realize that we are all connected to those around us today, to those who have lived before, and to the people who will step into our shoes after we are gone based on the legacy of learning and structures of benefits we inherit and that we leave behind as legacies for the future.
Just like my hydrangeas, it’s not just that the older bushes have more branches. The benefit extends to the fact that the branches reach higher too, availing those starting stems with chances to reach sunlight that they would have never been able to enjoy on their own. So no matter if we feel like we have much of a lattice of supports to grow from ourselves, we can all inch our own branches into the sun and ensure that generations to come will be better because you lived and worked and built before.