As a young person, I don’t think too much about death or morbidity.
As a religious person, I’m not particularly afraid of dying.
But, like any other person, it’s not something I really like to harp on.
One of the only semi-positive things people seem to like to think about surrounding their death is how they will be remembered.
It’s a funny thing to fixate on because you really have very little control over the way other people choose to remember you.
There are probably a lot of people who have accomplished amazing things, but are instead remembered for something mostly irrelevant.
But maybe with enough effort, you might have a little sway on the outcome.
I got to thinking about this on a recent hiking trip to North Carolina, when I learned of someone who is memorialized in a near perfect fashion.
Mt. Mitchell, the highest point east of the Mississippi River, is named after Elisha Mitchell.
He was a Yale graduate and ordained minister who ultimately became a professor (and at times, acting president) at the University of North Carolina. He taught a number of subjects before he began teaching geology.
Mitchell was a highly regarded geologist who studied the Black Mountains, so, naturally, I assumed the mountain was named after his scientific achievements.
When we neared the peak, though, we learned that a much grander endeavor earned him the namesake.
A large plaque simply read: “Elisha Mitchell. 1793-1857. Scientist and professor. Died in attempt to prove this mountain highest in eastern U.S. Grave is at the summit, 285 yds. S.”
Turns out, Mitchell died trying to prove a point – with a mountain then known as “Black Dome” at the center of it.
It began in 1835 when Mitchell first measured the height of the mountain.
He estimated its elevation was 6,672 feet (he was pretty close – it’s actually 6,684 feet) and declared it was taller than Mount Washington.
The North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources says that this created a “controversy of major proportions,” especially between Mitchell and one of his former students, State Senator Thomas L. Clingman.
I’m not sure why Clingman was so offended by this claim, but Mitchell was determined to prove himself correct.
It was quite literally the hill he would die on.
In 1857, Mitchell slipped and fell into a deep pool at the bottom of a waterfall near the peak of his mountain during an effort to confirm his measurements.
Mitchell wouldn’t live to see it, but in 1881 and 1882, the U.S. Geological Survey confirmed his numbers and officially named the peak after him.
I don’t know if I’ve ever had any argument that I’d be willing to die over, but it is a pretty epic way to go out.
Aside from his apparently remarkable knowledge and application of geology, Elisha Mitchell might be remembered for refusing to back down in an argument.
Or, maybe his legacy is simply that you’ll be remembered by whatever you fully commit your life to.
I might be more convinced of that if not for the fact that a nearby peak is simply named “Big Tom” – after the mountain guide who found Mitchell’s body.
-Kayleen Petrovia is a reporter for the Journal-Tribune.