The Mayor began with travel tales—Malta’s rocky prayers and Sicily’s green wine fields. But Ismar, ever modest, pulled us away from postcards into the question that hums louder when you hit your sixties: What will I leave behind?
Not a company. Not an invention. Not a plaque on the wall.
“Maybe nothing,” Ismar shrugged.
But the Mayor wouldn’t let it go. He nudged Ismar toward a different kind of legacy—the kind you can’t bank or frame. A mindset. An invitation. Step out of your comfort zone. See life through another street, another country, another struggle.
Ismar’s proposal wasn’t an order. No finger-wagging. Just a quiet suggestion: go to Brazil, to Bolivia, to places where hot water isn’t a given and gratitude grows wild. Because sometimes the best legacy isn’t what you build—it’s the curiosity you spark in others.
Here’s the twist: Ismar doesn’t think he has the authority to convince anyone. But maybe he doesn’t need it. Sometimes, living authentically is persuasion enough. Your footsteps whisper louder than your speeches.
💭 Lesson? Legacy isn’t marble. It’s momentum.
Not what you own, but how you open doors for others to walk differently.
🎧 Want to hear the full conversation? Join the Chronicle here.