"Remember Me" by Jason Cerin

REMEMBER ME

Writing by Jason Cerin | Photography by Tim Vo

Jason Cerin is the co-founder and former creative director of Haute Magazine. Photography: Tim Vo

Throughout these past four years, I have constantly been faced with the question, “what path do I want to forge for myself?” Individuals my age find ourselves at a crucial point in our lives, as we must make decisions that have a direct impact on our future and ultimately, the legacy we establish for ourselves. With the job market becoming increasingly competitive, it feels like there is simply no time for you to not know what you want to do. I find myself as part of a generation that is thinking about financial security and success earlier than anyone else. This is due to the fact that we have constantly been taught to recognize the relationship between wealth and success, an idea that has only been magnified since I started attending the University of Southern California. As seen by the number of last names inscribed on the sides of buildings and donning the tops of scholarships, it is almost as if legacy has shifted from “who they were” to “what they were able to buy.”

According to Merriam-Webster, success can be defined as “the gaining of wealth, respect, or fame.” When you grow up seeing explicit phrases such as these printed on something as official as a dictionary, it feels difficult to dispute. Many people grow up believing that success involves earning large amounts of money, being academically gifted or serving as the leader of a powerful institution. It is for this reason that many young people pursue careers as doctors, lawyers and engineers, as they are well respected occupations that practically ensure financial security and, relatedly, future success. Society has pruned us to recognize the idea that wealth leads to status and status leads to power. This makes sense, as success through these avenues can be tangibly measured by annual income, company hierarchical standings and general reverence an occupation receives from society. We currently find ourselves in the midst of a data-driven world where numerics and statistics can be used to draw conclusions to concepts as broad as success.

With wealth comes the opportunity for people to exercise forms of social influence. “A lasting legacy of support” is how one of USC’s many naming opportunities is described online, which range in price from $25,000 to $3.5 million. Emblazoning the name of donors onto buildings, bricks, plaques, scholarships and programmatic funds has been a way for institutions to entice check-cutting for years. Experts say that these donations are often “a combination of vanity and legacy—with an emphasis on the latter.” Wealthy families want to envision and put into place what their legacy is and how to pass it to the next generation. While not inherently narcissistic, as each naming is tied to a philanthropic bequest, these items undoubtedly play a role in each donor’s legacy. These namesake items serve as a physical and long-lasting reminder of the significant role that person played. It is a guarantee that generations to come will know that name and connect it to the success that the given entity amasses; however, is a namesake able to represent the totality of one’s legacy?

"Dream State" marks the final edition of Haute Magazine that Cerin would have the opportunity to contribute to before graduation. Therefore, he decided to author "Remember Me." Photography: Tim Vo

When I asked some of my friends their opinion, one said the names that decorate our campus “don’t mean much to me since I don’t know these individuals personally, I just know they were wealthy enough to put their name on the front of a lecture hall. For me, it doesn’t speak to who they truly are as an individual.” Someone else joined in to say “just because you have enough money to buy a bench doesn’t necessarily mean that you are a good person.” While it is a hope that wealthy individuals are not donating money with the sole intention of having their name on a building that will outlast their own physicality, responses like these, and those expressed in numerous studies, support the idea that material aspects of one’s legacy are not all-encompassing. Strayer University recently conducted a national study known as the “Success Project Survey’’ to determine what Americans’ modern definitions of success are. Results showed that 90% of respondents thought success depends principally on happiness rather than power or prestige. In his response to the results of the study, Dr. Michael Plater, president of Strayer University, said “I think people will be surprised to hear that the vast majority of this country no longer views traditional wealth and fame-based notions of success as having ‘made it.’’’ As mentioned previously, we do still live in a time where money plays a key role in our daily lives, but it is important to recognize that it is one of many factors.

The concept of legacy often reminds us of death, but the two are not mutually exclusive. Death informs life by giving you a perspective on what’s important, but legacy is really about life and living. It helps us decide the kind of life we want to live and the kind of world we want to live in. The giving and receiving of legacies often brings with it a multitude of emotions: longing, remorse, anxiety, fear, contentment, gratitude, humility, love. In experiencing this spectrum of emotions, there is a reflective period that forces you to take into account all of your accomplishments and shortcomings, what you’ve done and hope to do and the introspection of your life as a whole. For many, that involves looking to an individual they admire and the things they did to give their life meaning.

During my freshman year of college, I was told that my grandmother had been diagnosed with lung cancer. Due to the stage the cancer was in at the time of diagnosis, she was given a six-month time frame left to live. Since her symptoms were not present and she would always say how she felt as good as could be, I never really thought much of it. However, Thanksgiving came around and it was as if everything came crashing down at once. Her condition worsened exponentially, she was given an even shorter period of expectancy. The person whom I had known all my life was slipping away right before my eyes. One short month later, I received the call saying she was gone.

My parents asked if I would give the eulogy speech at her memorial service. At first, I was unsure how I was to take 87 years of someone’s life and condense them into a mere 400 words. It was during this time that I had to look back on all the memories that left an impact on my life and think about what legacy truly meant to me. Through this process of reflecting and writing, I was able to wade through years of what I thought legacy was supposed to mean and solidify my own definition of it. For me, it was that when a person truly impacts your life in a significant way, it is not the amount of money they had in their bank account, the size of the house they lived in or any other materialistic factor that mattered, but instead the social and personal impact they left on your life.

Cerin wrote "Remember Me" as a "love letter" to everyone he met at Haute. Photography: Tim Vo

We all want to be remembered in some capacity after we die. Whether that be for the work we did in our professional field, the acts of service we took part in, or simply for the kind of person we were, there is a collective goal to not be forgotten. As humans, we have an inherent desire to create meaning in our life and to have that meaning live on after us. When our accomplishments can be recognized and revered by others, it almost serves as an existential affirmation that our life mattered. As a society, we contextualize this construct as legacy. Built on stories, traditions, memories, hopes and dreams, legacy is the interconnection across time that satisfies a need for those who have come before us and a responsibility to those who come after us. Legacy is fundamental to what it is to be human.

Buildings may crumble to the ground and plaques may rust over, but one thing that cannot be erased posthumously is the personal connection that is established between two individuals. My grandmother is physically gone, but psychologically she is everywhere. She has become a part of me, my parents and my family on a cellular level, which allows many roads to still lead back to her. For me, that is what defines a legacy: Being able to push beyond the veil of grief and mourning to reveal the beauty that emerges once you accept the finality of goodbyes. It is the traits and ethics that people bestow upon those around them that live on after one dies. For both young and old, the power of legacy enables us to live fully in the present. You understand that you are part of a larger community, a community that must remember its past to build its future. In legacy, there is caring combined with conscience, and wisdom to be found in one another.

Jason Cerin is a student at the University of Southern California currently pursuing a degree in International Relations (Global Business). He is the Co-Founder and former Creative Director of Haute Magazine.

Tim Vo is a student at the University of Southern California currently pursuing a degree in Philosophy, Politics and Law. He is also a Los Angeles-based photographer who specializes in fashion and editorial photography.

Makeup: Alejandra Villanueva

Styling and Nails: Alissa Nguyen

Set Design: Elizabeth Yin

Videography: Abbey Martichenko