I heard the term ‘bucket list’ a while ago and it really didn’t impact me. It was from some movie, maybe with Jack Nicholson, I wasn’t sure. It seemed to me one more thing I had to think about. Yet I occasionally thought about it because I heard it often. It was the flavor of the day.
I couldn’t make up a list. I had trouble thinking of even one item, perhaps because I was too busy striving to get things done. When I was a kid in New York City in my room I built a free flight model airplane. It was a big project. I think I went to a park in Queens to try to fly it but I don’t remember it ever getting off of the ground. I think it was because of engine trouble. Later, between algebra and French verbs there was little time for it and clutter damaged the delicate balsa wood and paper structure. It was 4 feet wide, too big for a New York apartment. I thought maybe it would be nice to try once again to fly a free flight model airplane. I bought a $39 helicopter from a discount magazine and tried to fly it in my living room. It just careened off of the walls and went crazy, hitting everything with no control. So much for that.
Yesterday, I was cleaning out my outside closet and found a straw basket suitcase from the previous owner. It was attractive and light and just the right size. I opened it and found paper plates, plastic cups, and plastic utensils all neatly wrapped just waiting to be used. Good for a picnic. There, that’s what I miss. My god, I would like a real picnic. Green grass, some flowers, blue sky, some friendly trees, a nice blanket and maybe three other people, all neatly dressed. Manet’s picnic painting comes to mind; only the young lady should put on clothes. (His flesh tones were always a little muddy.) How about a butterfly or two? The only picnics I’ve seen as an adult are at rest stops when traveling, hardly the idea I have in mind. A picnic would be nice, very nice. Then again, if need be, I have an active imagination and just imagining it will give me some pleasure. Pass the tea please.