The Most Powerful Writing Exercise I Did at Stanford
And the lessons I learned from it
In my final quarter at Stanford, I took a class called Lives of Consequence. The course was as inciteful as the name implies. It provided clarity on how I want to live my life and the legacy I intend to leave.
We were caricatures of liberal arts students. We took personality quizzes, journaled, and experimented with altering our ingrained habits. Though across these introspective exercises, one stands out above the rest:
We were asked to write our own obituary.
Our immediate reaction was predictable, “how morbid!” But once our professor, Rod Kramer, explained its merits, we settled down with a pen for some serious self-reflection. I wrote…
Leigh Penn, champion of at-risk youth, dies at 90
She spent her final hours on her porch in Tampa, FL, watching the sunset with her husband Dean. She ate a chorizo burrito and sipped an amber beer before passing in her sleep that evening. She died grateful, in-love, and fulfilled.
Leigh worked vehemently to close the opportunity divide.
She is best known as the former CEO of City Year, a non-profit offering a one-year, intensive training program for under-served young adults. She expanded City Year’s program to an additional 40 cities and 500,000 participants over her 20-year tenure. She credits her time in the US Navy for inspiring her to provide low-income adults with professional and educational opportunities. She also sat on the board of the Fisher House Foundation and Big Brothers Big Sisters.
Leigh was once on track to make partner at a prestigious consulting firm but left the firm to lead Lightning, an alcoholic kombucha company. After selling the company to AB InBev, she began volunteering at City Year — the rest is history. Leigh and Dean also opened a popular Korean BBQ restaurant in 2040 after Dean retired from the Navy. The two shared a love for surfing, snowboarding, and street tacos.
Despite being an MBA and CEO, Leigh’s favorite title was Mom. She raised two children and five grandchildren. Leigh instilled in her family three core values: compassion, self-sufficiency, and humility.
Her hobbies included brewing kombucha, collecting ceramics, and gardening vegetables. At the ripe age of 90, she would go on a daily 3-mile walk with her beloved Dean. They traveled the world together while maintaining modest homes in San Diego and Florida.
We will celebrate Leigh for her love of listening, zest for life, and warm sarcasm. We toast an amber beer in her honor.
What I Learned About Myself
I often forget that time is fleeting. How nice it was to pick my age of death, a ripe old 90! And of course, I maintained good health throughout my entire life. As I read the things I hoped to accomplish — passion projects, non-profit work, raising a family — I was reminded how time and health aren’t promised. My 10-yr plan may never make it past tomorrow.
I had never formally contemplated legacy. My current prestigious work at a consulting firm wasn’t a point of pride or significance in my obituary. At what point do I make the jump and pursue a passion? Will I ever?
I care deeply about financial literacy and expanding opportunities for disadvantaged youth. I knew this conceptually and have always volunteered in the space, but I had never called it my legacy in ink. Be it City Year or elsewhere, I intend to move the opportunity needle.
I love my partner. Can I assume we’ll raise a happy family? Dean is the greatest source of happiness and gratitude in my life. I desperately want to believe we’ll raise a loving family, but is that too much to assume? I once considered children a predictable and promised joy of life. Writing my obituary made this feel less certain.
What I Learned From Others
What made this exercise even more interesting is that we were allowed to read each other's obituaries.
Nobody chose to die after their partner. My classmate Sheryl died the same evening as her husband, hand-in-hand, Notebook-style. Annie wrote of her love of scuba, and how she got to swim with the whale sharks one last time at age 85.
Some obituaries focused on career achievements, others focused on social impact, and some focused entirely on relationships. It was the final of the three archetypes that resonated with me the most. This caused me to pause and ask, am I allocating enough time to the people I love? Or am I overly caught up in the career rat race? At the end of the day, will family or professional milestones matter more?
Writing my obituary helped me answer these questions.
