The term “bucket list” refers to the things – whether they are written on a list or thoughts impressed into your brain – which you would like to do before you die. It comes from the term “kicking the bucket.” If someone recently kicked the bucket it means that he just died. It probably came from a period in the past when suicides were common and people hanged themselves to end unbearable pains. When a suicidal person was ready to kill himself, he kicked away the bucket he was standing on. Pretty gruesome image for a funny term.

Back to bucket lists. I thought about them because for whatever cosmic reasons, a few relatives and friends asked me about preparations of wills and trusts lately. (They knew I served a stint in a law firm doing this area of law for a while.) The common factors were two. One, they were soon to take on a trip overseas. Two, they were not getting any younger. So eagerly, I gave them some general issues to think about and a recommendation to see my former boss who is a rare person who fits the misnomer of an “honest lawyer.” I figured some of these friends were trying to complete one or two items relating to family assets on their bucket lists. Writing of will and family trust – check. In case something happened, they wanted their families taken care of. I think that was noble and normal. I also took advantage of situations like these and gently suggested leaving something to charities too.

Not too many years ago I had a mental bucket list. I wanted to go to Arizona to visit the Paria Canyon. I also wanted to see the Great Barrier Reef in Australia, the Perito Moreno Glacier in Argentina, among many other destinations. Those are only places belonging to the letter “A” section of the alphabet. There were perhaps a hundred more. I also wanted to learn to fly a plane, which I gave up a few years ago when my long-time optometrist informed me that my vision was not correctable to 20-20 even with glasses. I told myself maybe I would learn skin diving instead. Then my aorta broke on me – on land fortunately. So no more dreams for ocean diving either. And no other super adventures like barreling down the Niagara Falls. Now there’s one firm item added and staying on that list: No insistence or stubbornness on doing anything. That’s technically not something to do but I think it is wise for this frail body to remember. Last week I just drove about one quarter of the time of a two-thousand-mile road trip and I thought that was quite brave. My very tired partner in driving might have regretted the unproportional physical burden on him but I had a ball.

Mid-week this week I briefly mentioned to my friend YC what I was working on during lunch. The same evening he e-mailed me the following:

The actual origin of the term “kicking the bucket” is from England, and began in the later middle ages. A corpse would be laid out, and a bucket of holy water placed at its feet. Visitors could then sprinkle the deceased with Holy Water. Other explanations (suicide, execution) came later to explain an idiom, of which the origin of the term had ceased, mainly as a result of the English reformation.

It sure is nice to have a friend who’s a history buff and a devout Catholic. Who would have thought there were two possible historic origins of “kicking the bucket?” YC did and I thank you!

So what is on my bucket list now? The truth is that I don’t have any specific items on it although I do know the general premises within which they will be. The idea came last week on my trip to Canada. My old friend BC reminded me of my “rebirth.” BL told me about my purpose of “coming back.” He actually said something along the line of “God’s plan for me.” I don’t consider myself worthy of so much
attention from God. But perhaps, just perhaps, I am staying here to do something good for myself and to my neighbors as well.

The timing is interesting – even freaky and odd to a certain degree. I am divorced and single. My kids are grown and independent. I am almost financially broke, which is not bad when you don’t have kids’ college to pay for and not many other expenses to worry about. Then
the aortic dissection. Then the “coming back.” The great living mathematician Steven Hawking couldn’t have planned my calendar any better.

I am grateful, very grateful to whoever or Whoever giving me this second chance. My bucket list is a clean slate. People die for a clean slate to start life all over again, don’t they?

What is on your bucket list?

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