Somewhere inside there is a smile; beneath my callous exterior there is gentleness, understanding, and fleeting dreams. I suppose no one chooses the world that they are born into, we can only determine how we leave it, and I mean we all leave in the same manner: in caskets, by cremation, or the ever popular burial at sea. Ironic, an African American should mention a burial at sea, given our history on the Middle Passage. Regardless, death is our destiny, and life becomes history: stories told, memories shared, it is our legacy that defines us.