20 Feb 2017 Dipping from a different bucket
by Vivian Lawson Hogue
Somewhere between 2005 and 2010, the term “bucket list” became popular. Its origin came from things one wants to experience before one dies or “kicks the bucket.” The source for the term is unclear, but it has been around since the 1700s and has a rather gruesome history.
A short or long bucket list is sometimes a list of “Wish-I-Could’s,” but sometimes people actually intend, plan and save to do them. But I’m a practical person. I have many things I want to see or hear, but never will due to lack of funds, time and my desire to live. Thus, I have a reverse bucket list of things that I do not want to do.
- I do not want to go up on or climb anything higher than my attic stairway. This includes Ferris wheels. The last one I rode was in my teens when the ride stopped with my “friend” and me at the top. She rocked us until I thought we would completely rotate. Heights also include any type of air travel or any ancient, rickety, wooden swinging Arkansas bridge such as I long ago crossed in a 1939 Buick. Trees are out ever since I fell 12 feet from one at age 6. Both the swinging bridge and the tree fall resulted in Ferris Wheel Fear and a sudden lack of breath.
- I also do not want to travel by ocean or any other large body of water. My three near-drownings heavily contributed to this attitude.
- I do not want to ever again swallow a raw oyster. A few days of extreme nausea taught me that in Florida back in 1964. And it was a month with an “r” in it! Nor will I eat any type of fish — canned, fresh or frozen — that is caught or processed in other countries except Canada or Alaska. This came after reading labels and considering the number of days it took a catch to reach the docks. The number of days at sea for workers, the condition of the fish and probable lack of health inspectors contributed to my conclusion. Broccoli, eggs and beans suddenly seemed good substitute proteins to me.
- I do not want to have my life end in a roundabout. I know, I know — there are those who love them. One must charge forward with a “fight-or-flight” response in anticipated danger from another driver who is (a) speeding (b) while using a cell phone and (c) digging in a bag of Cheetos.
- I do not want to agonize over seeing any more alive and well oak and maple trees cut or killed by construction. Many specimens in Old Conway are more than 250 years old – older than our country. They have seen more history than we can imagine. They provide beauty, homes for birds, shade from the sun, whistling music on windy days, and some are good for climbing. Not by me, of course.
- I do not want to see one more generation of children not being taught cursive writing and basic math, grammar, spelling, history, literature and geography. Classes in cooking, sewing, personal banking, gardening or hammering a nail should be required of all as they build practical experience and intellect.
It all comes down to liking a simple life and being around long enough to know what works and what hasn’t. My incomplete list is designed with me in mind, so others may dream or do without criticism from me. Now I do wish I could go to our northeast and northwest coasts, to Williamsburg and to Scotland and Ireland. But, then, there is the matter of a plane or boat.
A native of Conway, Vivian Lawson Hogue graduated from the University of Central Arkansas with a degree in art education. A retired teacher, she worked in the Conway School District for 23 years. She is editor of the Faulkner County Historical Society’s semi-annual publication, “Faulkner Facts and Fiddlings.” She can be reached at [email protected].
