A year ago today, when Jane Goodall died in Los Angeles, the world lost an icon. I lost one of my oldest, closest friends. Thinking both about that moment and how we should mark this one, I hear her voice urging us to look forward, as fervently as she always did—to the future she spent years preparing others to build, and, above all, to the youth she inspired to follow her.
Years ago, as Jane and I shared a quiet dinner alone in New York during one of her tours, she drolly recounted an incident from her lecture the previous evening. She had filled a very large old theater with people keen to hear her share her history and hopes. After her talk, two long lines of eager questioners filled the aisles.
A young girl gushed, “Oh, Dr. Goodall, you’re so amazing! What is your next big project?” Jane’s response was clear, quick, and simple: “My next big project?
Death!” The whole house gasped. Gently, Jane continued: “Let’s be clear. I travel over 300 days a year.
Of course, there’s so much that I still want to do, but no one lives forever. At some point, death becomes the next step. And, as someone who has always looked forward to the next adventure, I’m actually curious about it.” When, the following night, I joined Jane for dinner at her hotel in Manhattan, bringing vegetarian curries and a bottle of scotch, a combination we both adored, and she described this exchange, I nearly choked on my drink at her unexpected punchline, sputtering, “You really said that?” She nodded mischievously.
But, beneath her smile, I sensed something else. I saw her beginning to prepare the world for a time when she would no longer be here to carry on her work. She was shaping her legacy, focusing forward.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
