I’ve been thinking of Dave Lopez again. He was born in 1873, died in 1952, and is buried in Trinidad, Colorado. His gravestone is crudely made and may not last many more winters without serious maintenance. There. You know as much about Dave Lopez as I do. I happened across him a few years ago while helping with a genealogy project. We’re not related, but I feel for him. I’d like to believe he’s enshrined in someone’s memory, his black and white visage watching over great grandchildren from a dusty shelf. I’m afraid he’s been forgotten, which is why I wrote this. Now you know his name and that he lived.
Writers write for many reasons but seeking a kind of immortality is one of them. In a hundred years, my life will be forgotten, but maybe the stories I told will still find an audience. If I can delight someone I’ll never meet, that’s a legacy better than the prettiest gravestone. #legacy #Trinidad #Colorado #writerslife