I borrowed a book, John D. MacDonald by David Gehrin. In the chapter “The Character of Travis McGee”, I was struck by this quote by that hero.
I am apart. Always I have seen around me all the games and parades of life and have always envied the players and the marchers. I watch the cards they play and feel in my belly the hollowness as the big drums go by, and I smile and shrug and say, Who needs games? Who wants parades? The world seems to be masses of smiling people who hug each other and sway back and forth in front of a fire and sing old songs and laugh into each others’ faces, all truth and trust. And I kneel at the edge of the woods, too far to feel the heat of the fire.
The other day, Bizarro, a single-panel cartoon by Dan Piraro, was set in a psychiatrist’s office. A long-faced patient laying on the couch says, “Instead of trying to be the best me I can be, I’ve decided to be an inferior version of someone better than me.”
Meanwhile, the shrink is checking his watch.
Over twenty years ago, I finally originated my personal philosophy, which can be summed up with this bumper sticker: BECOME YOUR OWN HERO.
I sometimes – when contemplating a tattoo because it would be less expensive – think perhaps the slogan should be… Be your own hero. Fewer letters to ink.
But I like the idea of becoming, a continuous process of attempting to improve, to be righteous and effective and honest and true and helpful and strong and so on and so forth. Like Jack Reacher.
Or Randle Patrick McMurphy.
I don’t recommend you emulate Mac, I tried that. Really fatiguing and not all that productive.
Theodore Roosevelt said, “Keep your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ground.”
Back to the cartoon. IF you try to be someone better than you are, you might just become the best you can be.
If I try to be an inferior version of Ghandi, I will fall far short but maybe do better at anger management.
By trying to run as hard as Steve Prefontaine, maybe I don’t set numerous American records, but I am betting I will run faster than I ever dreamed was possible. For me.
Strolling around Boston Harbor, The Most Wonderful Woman I’ve Ever Known says, “Oh, I always wanted to take a horse-drawn carriage ride.”
Later… “well, now you can scratch that off your bucket list.”
“Don’t have a bucket list.”
“Really?”
“I’m open to just about anything, so whenever something good comes along, I’m ready.”
***
Which gave me an idea: The Reverse Bucket List.
As you know, a bucket list is a list of things one has not yet done but hopes to do before death.
List, the word, once meant – in archaic Middle English – ‘craving’ or ‘inclination.’
Which might proffer a litany of dream activities. For example, you might hope someday to know many women, race the Boston Marathon in under three hours, write a book and get it published, attend law school, run with the bulls in Pamplona, live on a marijuana farm, something like that.
My own bucket list might include, become a U.S. Senator, pass the bar exam, run a sub-2:30 marathon, sell a book to the movies, have a taller version of Jason Statham play me in that movie.
***
The problem with bucket lists for most people is you reach a senior age and there are still all these dreams which remain unfulfilled. You start with a list of dreams and look to make them come true.
Inevitably, too many boxes are not checked off. And I am guessing there must be a sense of depressing lack of accomplishment.
You get old and there’s a list of stuff you wanted to do, adventures you wanted to have and you didn’t get it done.
***
Suppose every time you did something wonderful or great or notable, you put it down on a list.
Watch that list grow. Keep a record of your achievements.
Get to the end of the road with a long list of accomplishment.
I am betting you will have amazed yourself.