There are moments in a conversation when the topic shifts from light banter into something deeper and more meaningful. That exactly happened in my annual pre-InfoComm conversation with Dave Labuskes. What started as a preview of North America’s biggest AV-industry event became a reflection on leadership, community, stewardship, and what it really means to leave a legacy.
And after our recording, and the more I sat with it, the more I realized this… Legacy is not what people say about you while you are still in the room. Legacy is what continues to grow after you have stepped out of it.
Dave said something near the end of our conversation that stopped me. When I asked what he hoped people would remember about his tenure, he did not talk about acquisitions, attendance numbers, global growth, standards, certifications, or the many visible ways AVIXA has expanded under his leadership. He did not frame the answer around himself at all. Instead, he went back to a simple lesson many of us learned in Boy Scouts as kids… Leave it better than you found it.
That is legacy.
Not the title. Not the applause. Not the magazine covers. Not the stage moments. Not even the decisions that look impressive from the outside. Legacy is whether the campsite is better for the next person. Legacy is when the fire is still burning for those who gather around it after you leave. Legacy is when the structure you helped build is strong enough to stand without you holding it up.
That hit me personally because I have been living through that same question with HETMA.
In the early days, HETMA was personal. It was a group of higher ed AV people who needed each other. We needed a place to belong inside a much larger industry. We needed a campfire, to borrow Dave’s metaphor. We needed a place where our challenges made sense, where our wins were understood, and where our work in classrooms, campuses, and learning environments was seen as more than just support.
At first, that kind of effort can live on passion. It can live on late nights, friendships, side conversations, and a handful of people willing to carry more weight than they probably should. But passion alone is not legacy. Passion may start the fire, but structure keeps it burning.
That is why Dave’s reflection mattered so much to me. He talked about watching HETMA mature from an idea, from something that once sat heavily on my shoulders, into an organization with sustainability, structure, scholarships, education, programming, and a professional voice for a vertical that has not always been fully recognized for the expertise it brings. That is exactly the kind of legacy every leader should hope for. Not that people need you forever, but that the thing you helped build no longer depends entirely on you.
That is a hard truth for leaders to accept.
We often say we want to build something bigger than ourselves, but then we struggle when it actually becomes bigger than us. We want sustainability, but we also like being needed. We want growth, but we sometimes quietly resist the systems that make growth less dependent on our personal involvement. We want a legacy, but we can confuse legacy with ownership.
The truth is, if it all falls apart when you walk away, then what you built was not legacy. It was dependency.
That does not mean the work was not meaningful. It does not mean the season was not important. Every movement starts somewhere, and often it starts with someone willing to be irrationally committed before anyone else understands why it matters. But the goal cannot be to remain the center forever. The goal has to be to build something that can survive your absence, evolve beyond your preferences, and continue serving the people it was created for.
That is what I heard in Dave’s answer about AVIXA. He refused to make the story about himself. He pointed to the team. He pointed to the board. He pointed to the culture. He pointed to clarity of purpose, courage, heart, and trust. That is not false humility. That is leadership maturity.
Because real leaders know the work was never supposed to end with them.
The same is true for our industry events. Dave made a powerful distinction in our conversation. InfoComm is not just a trade show. It is not just booths, products, and badge scans. It is an event where a profession gathers to influence the direction of the industry. That matters because it reframes attendance from consumption to contribution. You are not just going to see what is new. You are going to help shape what comes next.
That is legacy at an industry level.
When AVIXA chooses to keep InfoComm tied to the mission of the association, rather than simply handing it off as a revenue asset, that is a legacy decision. When it invests in standards, certification, education, community, and experiences that may not make sense on a short-term profit spreadsheet, that is a legacy decision. When it supports communities within the community, like HETMA, rather than viewing them as competition, that is a legacy decision.
Legacy requires choosing mission over ego. And that may be the hardest part.
It would have been easy for AVIXA to see HETMA as a threat. Dave admitted that. In a for-profit mindset, another group serving the same people can look like competition. But in a mission-driven mindset, another healthy community is not a threat. It is fuel. It means more people are connected. More people are growing. More people are finding their place in the profession.
That is the lesson I keep coming back to in my mind. Legacy is not diminished when others rise. It is proven when others rise.
If the goal is to be the only voice, then every new voice feels dangerous. But if the goal is to strengthen the industry, then every new voice adds to the strength of the whole. That is what AVIXA’s support has meant to HETMA. It did not make us less independent. It gave us room to become more fully ourselves. It gave us a platform. It gave us credibility. It gave us space around the larger industry campfire while allowing us to build one of our own.
And now, as I look at where HETMA is going, I feel the weight of that same responsibility.
The question is no longer, “Can we build this?” We have built it. The question now is, “Can we sustain it?” Can we professionalize without losing heart? Can we scale without losing that intimacy between like-minded colleagues? Can we create systems without killing the spirit? Can we welcome new people, new leaders, and new ideas without clinging so tightly to the origin story that we limit the future?
That is the next stage of legacy.
At some point, every founder, executive, director, manager, and leader has to ask themselves, “Am I building something that only works because I am here, or am I building something that becomes stronger because others are empowered to carry it forward?” That question applies to organizations, but it also applies to teams. It applies to campuses. It applies to departments. It applies to projects. It applies to the way we mentor people, delegate authority, document processes, develop talent, and create culture.
If your team cannot make decisions without you, that is not legacy.
If your organization has no next generation of leaders, that is not legacy.
If your project only succeeds because you personally absorb all the pressure, that is not legacy.
If people admire what you built but cannot maintain it, improve it, or inherit it, then you may have built something impressive, but you have not yet built something lasting.
Legacy is not control. Legacy is release.
It is creating the conditions for others to succeed. It is giving away the knowledge. It is making room at the table. It is building the process. It is taking the extra time to mentor someone who may one day do the job better than you did. It is having the humility to celebrate that when it happens.
That is why Dave’s Boy Scout analogy is so powerful. Leave it better than you found it. Not perfect. Not finished. Not branded with your name forever. Just better. Cleaner. Stronger. More prepared for the next person. More useful than it was when you arrived. That should be the goal for all of us.
When I think about my own work, whether at UCLA, with HETMA, through the Higher Ed AV Podcast, or in the broader AV community, that is the standard I want to hold myself to. Did I make the path easier for the next person? Did I create space for others to belong? Did I help the industry understand higher ed more clearly? Did I advocate for people who were not yet in the room? Did I build something that can continue after my season of leadership changes?
Because eventually, every season changes. Titles change. Role change. The organization itself changes. The industry changes. The people around the campfire… Change.
But if we do this right, the fire remains.
That is legacy. Not being remembered as the person who stood closest to the flame, but as someone who gathered the wood, protected the spark, invited others in, and left enough behind for the next group to keep it going.
Dave Labuskes may not want his tenure to be about a “Dave legacy.” And honestly, that is exactly why the legacy is there. In fact, the leaders who are most obsessed with being remembered often build monuments to themselves rather than pedestals for the next generation of leaders. The leaders who are most committed to leaving things better build true movements that outlive them.
That is the kind of leadership our industry needs. That is the kind of leadership higher ed needs. That is the kind of leadership I hope to practice.
Leave it better than you found it. And make sure the next person has enough wood for the fire.
Watch and listen to the Higher Ed AV Podcast episode featuring David Labuskes here: https://higheredav.com/355-avixa-ceo-dave-labuskes-kicks-off-the-road-to-infocomm26-higher-ed-av-podcast-with-joe-way/.
Visit HETMA at booth C6023 at InfoComm 2026, and use code “HETMA” for a free show floor pass and discounted Education Summit.
