I first heard of the now famous "bucket list" reading an interview with former football coach Lou Holtz. He's now a college football TV commentator, but when he was at Notre Dame he had 50 things he was checking off before he, well, circled the drain. He'd just notched the "skydiving" box when he was asked about it. Since then the bucket theme has become a hit movie and a new lifestyle goal for many.
Bless those who have such a list - go for it. The concept just doesn't work for me because I'd have to focus on myself too much to check off the targets. I'm a veteran of putting myself first on a sort of unscripted pleasure list up until some 25 years ago. I'm also competitive, so if I have a set of goals I'd likely give them priority at times when I really should set aside my own recreation.
Somewhere along the line, I had an epiphany that I was not the most important person on the planet. To conjure up a list of exotic places like the Amazon River or the thrill in an underwater cage near great white sharks would have to push family, friends and associates off the front burner of my one-burner stove.
Among the gifts I treasure most are the family members, loved ones and associates who have graced my life over the years. There are too many to catalog, but they'd provide a list of folks I'd like to once again visit. Still, I'd rather not make a list, but simply enjoy them as our lives happen to mesh.
It's not that I don't have dreams or an imagination to come up with a bucket. By keeping myself open to whatever comes my way and trying to have a positive attitude with whatever does arrive, I am given a thrill of the unexpected - actions or incidents that may have been dreamed of, but not planned. That's what hit me a few years ago atop the Great Wall of China.
If I'd had a wish list, the Wall would have been on it, but standing there, looking at this magnificent, historical icon, I remembered imagining it back in grade school. Suddenly, I was a child again and I raced along the top of the wall as it wound into low-hanging clouds, imagining how goats hauled the heavy bricks and where the Mongol hordes might have tried to breach it. I had out-distanced the tourists and - winded and sweating like a farm animal - Chinese students had me pose for pictures with their friends. I'll assume they were laughing with me, but I was aware of the derogatory term they use for us and here I was, a "greasy ghost" very much out of place. It didn't matter, I was there.
Had this visit been on a long-standing list, I don't think it would have had the unexpected magic. I get this same surprise emotion standing on a mountain top or at the base of a majestic waterfall, but all things meaningful do not have to be thrilling. By letting life's highlights come to me, my memory and heart are often touched with pleasantries. Laughing with grandchildren, intimate discussions with grown children, hiking with close friends and reaching out to help someone through an issue are undrawn boxes I'd never bother to check off.
Though of course happy times are preferred, not all my highlights need to be cheerful. Holding someone's hand as they die is as significant an event as I could experience. So is an arm around the shoulder of a grieving loved one. Such gut-wrenching times will broaden my understanding and enrich my life, but would never be on anyone's bucket list.
If I create a list, I am setting myself up for disappointment. Instead, I try to be receptive when a seemingly incidental occurance crosses my path. It has been a son on a stage, a granddaughter's vocal solo and the twinkle in a ninety-year old's eye that stirs me. And it's not always people. A hummingbird's bath in our backyard fountain, the scent of a tiger lilly and the electricity of a thunderstorm will unexpectedly brighten a moment in my life.
The bucket list concept doesn't work for me, but another image does. When I reach into the people, places and things around me, I never know exactly what I'll pull out. I envision life as more of a grab bag.
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