This Wall Street Journal article on the last lecture given by a professor dying of pancreatic cancer made me weep and pause to think.
Randy Pausch, a Carnegie Mellon University computer-science professor, was about to give a lecture Tuesday afternoon, but before he said a word, he received a standing ovation from 400 students and colleagues.
He motioned to them to sit down. "Make me earn it," he said.
What wisdom would we impart to the world if we knew it was our last chance? For Carnegie Mellon professor Randy Pausch, the question isn't rhetorical -- he's dying of cancer. Jeff Zaslow narrates a video on Prof. Pausch's final lecture.
They had come to see him give what was billed as his "last lecture." This is a common title for talks on college campuses today. Schools such as Stanford and the University of Alabama have mounted "Last Lecture Series," in which top professors are asked to think deeply about what matters to them and to give hypothetical final talks. For the audience, the question to be mulled is this: What wisdom would we impart to the world if we knew it was our last chance?
It can be an intriguing hour, watching healthy professors consider their demise and ruminate over subjects dear to them. At the University of Northern Iowa, instructor Penny O'Connor recently titled her lecture "Get Over Yourself." At Cornell, Ellis Hanson, who teaches a course titled "Desire," spoke about sex and technology.
At Carnegie Mellon, however, Dr. Pausch's speech was more than just an academic exercise. The 46-year-old father of three has pancreatic cancer and expects to live for just a few months. His lecture, using images on a giant screen, turned out to be a rollicking and riveting journey through the lessons of his life.
You have to read the rest of the story to see what Dr. Pausch considered to be the lessons of his life, but it made me stop and ponder: What am I doing with my life? Is what I'm doing worth the time I put into it? In what ways do I benefit other people and in what ways am I harming other people? What will people who knew me say when I'm gone?
Maudlin, to be sure, but I think such thoughts are necessary periodically. Call it a philosophical gut check.
About 14 years ago, when I was going through my divorce, I wrote down a list of things I wanted to do. I've achieved quite a few of the goals I set out for myself. Surprisingly, I found that I did many of them without actually trying to do them; fulfilling those desires was simply part of the fabric of my life (for example, I wanted more children than just the one I had. I had two more). There are others on the list I haven't done yet (I haven't learned to play the piano and I haven't been back to England). And there are still others which were desirable (furthering my education) which I did fulfill, but with deliberate effort.
But when it comes down to it, your life is more than just your job. It's more than just the pieces of paper you accumulate or the house you live in. It's even more than the people you associate with or are related to. To use a phrase from a different context, your life is more than the sum of its parts.
When my mother died at the tender age of 58, it made me realize how precious our time is, and that what we do with it is more of a measure of who we are than any other choice we make. So, if I spend 80 hours a week playing computer games or at the office, that's time I'm not spending playing with my kids, helping my husband, visiting my father, chatting with a friend, doing community work, or worshipping God. Reading Dr. Pausch's list, I realized that even in the busy life I've chosen, there's always time to do something better than what I've chosen to do.
Do I really want to waste 10 hours a week watching television? Does the house have to be spotless before I can have fun with my family? Am I really too busy or too tired to take a walk and enjoy God's creation?
I'm not saying that work isn't good or worthwhile. Certainly, a doctor who cures a patient, a minister who gives an uplifting or thoughtful sermon, a store owner who remains open to help the last few customers are doing good and worthwhile things. And let's face it: even if I'd rather watch The 10th Kingdom for the umpteenth time with my family than do laundry, the laundry must get done (oh, that I could use the excuse of quality time to get away from housework!). I just think that it is smart for us to stop occasionally and listen to the still, small voice in each of us that asks: Is this your best?
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