Some years ago, there was a philosophy professor who was the quintessential
eccentric philosopher. His disheveled appearance was highlighted by a
well-worn tweed coat and poor-fitting thick glasses, which often rested on
the tip of his nose. Every now and then, as most philosophy professors do,
he would go off on one of those esoteric and existential "what's the
meaning of life" discussions. Many of those discussions went nowhere, but
there were a few that really hit home. This was one of them.

"Respond to the following questions by a show of hands", the professor
instructed.

"How many of you can tell me something about your parents?"
Everyone's hand went up.

"How many of you can tell me something about your grandparents?"
About three-fourths of the class members raised their hands.

"How many of you can tell me something about your great-grandparents?"
Only two out of sixty students raised their hands.

"Look around the room", he said. "In just two short generations hardly any
of us even know who our own great-grandparents were. Oh sure, maybe we have
an old tattered photograph tucked away in a musty cigar box or know the
classic family story about how one of them walked 5 miles to school
barefoot. But, how many of us really know who they were, what they thought,
what they were proud of, what they were afraid of, or what they dreamed
about? Think about that. Within three generations our ancestors are all but
forgotten. Will this happen to you?"

"Here's a better question. Look three generations ahead. You are long gone.
Instead of you sitting in this room, now it's your great-grandchildren.
What will they say about you? Will they know about you? Or, will you be
forgotten too?"

"Is your life going to be a warning or an example? What legacy will you
have? The choice is yours! Class dismissed."

Nobody rose from their seat for a good five minutes.