Rewriting the Bucket List
It is way overdue. Seventeen years later and it is definitely time. When I turned 50 my mother no longer knew me. She had early-onset Alzheimer's, the one kind of dementia that might be inherited, according to the studies.* That gave me pause to think. I might not have much time left to do all the things I want to do. She had amassed a mansion filled with all of her collections: Turkish rugs, Persian antiques, Chinese Closinné, French perfumes, Russian jewels, Tiffany lamps. And then she was too sick to enjoy it all for very long.
So I thought hard about what I wanted the next years of my life to look like. I didn't see precious collections as part of that picture. I saw instead quality time with my children, maybe travel, maybe do some writing. The first half of my life had decidedly been packed full of adventure: a stint in a Hindu ashram, and later several years as a contemplative nun in a Catholic monastery. Next came marriage, most unexpectedly, and five beautiful children; then the log cabin and our back-to-the-earth era, the intentional community era, the leaving-the-community era and all the drama that entailed along with whatever drama a houseful of teenagers could think up. No one died, no one ended up in jail... knock on wood. I survived in one piece, I think.
The first bucket list was open for additions. At one point I became obsessed with India. I found a volunteer position at a school in Karnataka, all expenses paid. I passed the rigorous application process but ended up in a psyche ward instead after a horrible reaction to a medication I was inadvertently prescribed. It took almost a year to fully recover. I could certainly choc that experience up to education, but the hospital was not on the bucket list.
About the time of the first bucket list I decided to keep my brain young and hopefully fend off Alzheimer's by delving into a new project each year. The first adventure I assigned myself was to learn Korean. I spoke passable Hmong after our years sponsoring Hmong refugees who landed in Minnesota after the Vietnamese war. This would be a cinch.... It turned out to be one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life, but I trudged on, probably due to an obsessive-compulsive disorder. But in spite of that, by a decade later I could read, write and speak Korean, though not like a native speaker yet. I would need to spend a year or more in Korea to do that. This past year I tackled Transylvanian peasant cross stitch, using patterns that date back to the 1600s. Much less stressful than Korean, though definitely challenging.
Loosing my hearing wasn't part of my bucket list. By the time I was 60 I had maxed out my hearing aids and was slated for surgery to turn off my inner ear vertigo. A rough year spent in bed more times that not. The alternative was to keep falling and breaking more bones. The surgery was brilliantly successful and I was given a whole new lease on life. It didn't restore my hearing, I was down to hearing only 24% of audible speech, but hell, I could do this. It wasn't cancer. I could no longer hear well enough to work in the hospitals as a midwife but I had lots of other ideas up my sleeves.
I found out that senior citizens could go to college for free in Minnesota so I quickly added sign language to my bucket list. I went for two semesters and was soon communicating with Deaf Minnesotans, my professor included. I have since been a recipient of the latest state-of-the-art hearing aids, one of which is not really a hearing aid at all, but a transmitter that "hears" what my right ear doesn't and sends it wireless-ly to my other, better ear's hearing aid. I am back on stereo, folks!
That year I added writing to my bucket list. I had dabbled over the years, but I wanted to write down the hundreds of birth stories that were swimming around in my memory banks. I thought I might have to self publish my first book since I wasn't a pro at this. I started attending writers' events just to get the hang of the territory out there. I'd ask dumb questions at the classes I signed up for, trying to grasp this new world of writing. I had never been required to take an English class--even in high school. I had gone to an experimental program, majoring in art which trumped all other subjects.
At one such writers' event I asked one of my random questions which prompted an editor who was present to approach me after the talk. She wanted to see my writing. She was serious. I was flattered but not quite hopeful. In the end she loved my stories. She loved them so much she took my first completed manuscript to a publisher/friend of hers who wanted to publish it. Wonder of wonders! It became my first book, which, by the way, won as a finalist in the Midwest Book Awards in 2016. The sequel is done and waiting for a new publisher. My last publisher died very unexpectedly.
I have continued to write. All of a sudden I am no longer a retired midwife, but have a whole new career. Then came the real shocker! Some young families in Romania bumbled across my book and started translating it into Romanian. Romania was not on my bucket list, and I doubt very much it is on yours, but this past July I flew to Romania for the book launch and sold and (signed) 70 books the first night after my talk. So many copies sold in the weeks after that that the Romanian version has gone back for a second printing. We are presently talking about publishing the sequel and 3 other books I have since written. They are offering to publish all of them in English and Romanian since it is cheaper to print them there than it is in the U.S.
Being at the birth of my grandson Theo was a highlight of the past three years and then again when our "adopted" Ethiopian daughter Anadi delivered Maraki eight months ago. This past year I have written short stories that are appearing in various magazines. I am currently editing the next manuscripts so they will be ready for the Romanians.
Although it wasn't on the bucket list, I got my first tattoo the year I turned 65. It celebrated fifty years of having survived sexual assault and my subsequent suicide attempts back when I was 14. It also covered up all of the residual scars I had carved into my arm. It is beautiful: a bumble bee on a poppy flower. Like the lilies of the field, God cares for us, even the most fragile of flowers, the poppy. The little bee reminds me of His most extraordinary creation, all packaged into such tiny insects. I no longer have to see those scars, but instead an exquisite reminder to be grateful.
So how have I rewritten my bucket list, anyway? I have knocked off India and Africa. If I am meant to I will go there. I don't have to scheme to make it happen. I still do not want an array of antiques or a Victorian mansion. I am actually quite intrigued with the idea of a tiny house on wheels, though I don't feel the need to plan for that quite yet.
Today my bucket list looks more like this:
1. Stay healthy. Eat properly. Exercise regularly.
3. Live mindfully. Walk slowly. Clear your mind often. Pray often.
4. Be grateful. Be peaceful. Listen to the world around you lest you miss a still small Voice.
5. Get rid of the superfluous technology. Check emails only 3 times a day.
6. Stop watching the news which only serves to depress me and in turn wind me up with useless ideas and images.
7. Take a pottery class.
8. Want less. Ask myself before buying anything, "Can I get to heaven without this?"
9. Learn Romanian.
The first bucket list was open for additions. At one point I became obsessed with India. I found a volunteer position at a school in Karnataka, all expenses paid. I passed the rigorous application process but ended up in a psyche ward instead after a horrible reaction to a medication I was inadvertently prescribed. It took almost a year to fully recover. I could certainly choc that experience up to education, but the hospital was not on the bucket list.
About the time of the first bucket list I decided to keep my brain young and hopefully fend off Alzheimer's by delving into a new project each year. The first adventure I assigned myself was to learn Korean. I spoke passable Hmong after our years sponsoring Hmong refugees who landed in Minnesota after the Vietnamese war. This would be a cinch.... It turned out to be one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life, but I trudged on, probably due to an obsessive-compulsive disorder. But in spite of that, by a decade later I could read, write and speak Korean, though not like a native speaker yet. I would need to spend a year or more in Korea to do that. This past year I tackled Transylvanian peasant cross stitch, using patterns that date back to the 1600s. Much less stressful than Korean, though definitely challenging.
Loosing my hearing wasn't part of my bucket list. By the time I was 60 I had maxed out my hearing aids and was slated for surgery to turn off my inner ear vertigo. A rough year spent in bed more times that not. The alternative was to keep falling and breaking more bones. The surgery was brilliantly successful and I was given a whole new lease on life. It didn't restore my hearing, I was down to hearing only 24% of audible speech, but hell, I could do this. It wasn't cancer. I could no longer hear well enough to work in the hospitals as a midwife but I had lots of other ideas up my sleeves.
I found out that senior citizens could go to college for free in Minnesota so I quickly added sign language to my bucket list. I went for two semesters and was soon communicating with Deaf Minnesotans, my professor included. I have since been a recipient of the latest state-of-the-art hearing aids, one of which is not really a hearing aid at all, but a transmitter that "hears" what my right ear doesn't and sends it wireless-ly to my other, better ear's hearing aid. I am back on stereo, folks!
That year I added writing to my bucket list. I had dabbled over the years, but I wanted to write down the hundreds of birth stories that were swimming around in my memory banks. I thought I might have to self publish my first book since I wasn't a pro at this. I started attending writers' events just to get the hang of the territory out there. I'd ask dumb questions at the classes I signed up for, trying to grasp this new world of writing. I had never been required to take an English class--even in high school. I had gone to an experimental program, majoring in art which trumped all other subjects.
At one such writers' event I asked one of my random questions which prompted an editor who was present to approach me after the talk. She wanted to see my writing. She was serious. I was flattered but not quite hopeful. In the end she loved my stories. She loved them so much she took my first completed manuscript to a publisher/friend of hers who wanted to publish it. Wonder of wonders! It became my first book, which, by the way, won as a finalist in the Midwest Book Awards in 2016. The sequel is done and waiting for a new publisher. My last publisher died very unexpectedly.
I have continued to write. All of a sudden I am no longer a retired midwife, but have a whole new career. Then came the real shocker! Some young families in Romania bumbled across my book and started translating it into Romanian. Romania was not on my bucket list, and I doubt very much it is on yours, but this past July I flew to Romania for the book launch and sold and (signed) 70 books the first night after my talk. So many copies sold in the weeks after that that the Romanian version has gone back for a second printing. We are presently talking about publishing the sequel and 3 other books I have since written. They are offering to publish all of them in English and Romanian since it is cheaper to print them there than it is in the U.S.
Being at the birth of my grandson Theo was a highlight of the past three years and then again when our "adopted" Ethiopian daughter Anadi delivered Maraki eight months ago. This past year I have written short stories that are appearing in various magazines. I am currently editing the next manuscripts so they will be ready for the Romanians.
Although it wasn't on the bucket list, I got my first tattoo the year I turned 65. It celebrated fifty years of having survived sexual assault and my subsequent suicide attempts back when I was 14. It also covered up all of the residual scars I had carved into my arm. It is beautiful: a bumble bee on a poppy flower. Like the lilies of the field, God cares for us, even the most fragile of flowers, the poppy. The little bee reminds me of His most extraordinary creation, all packaged into such tiny insects. I no longer have to see those scars, but instead an exquisite reminder to be grateful.
So how have I rewritten my bucket list, anyway? I have knocked off India and Africa. If I am meant to I will go there. I don't have to scheme to make it happen. I still do not want an array of antiques or a Victorian mansion. I am actually quite intrigued with the idea of a tiny house on wheels, though I don't feel the need to plan for that quite yet.
Today my bucket list looks more like this:
1. Stay healthy. Eat properly. Exercise regularly.
3. Live mindfully. Walk slowly. Clear your mind often. Pray often.
4. Be grateful. Be peaceful. Listen to the world around you lest you miss a still small Voice.
5. Get rid of the superfluous technology. Check emails only 3 times a day.
6. Stop watching the news which only serves to depress me and in turn wind me up with useless ideas and images.
7. Take a pottery class.
8. Want less. Ask myself before buying anything, "Can I get to heaven without this?"
9. Learn Romanian.
*Aging with Grace: What the Nun Study Teaches Us About Leading Longer, Healthier, and More Meaningful Lives, Bantam, 2002. In 1986 Dr. David Snowdon, one of the world’s leading experts on Alzheimer’s disease, embarked on a revolutionary scientific study that would forever change the way we view aging—and ultimately living. Dubbed the “Nun Study” because it involves a unique population of 678 Catholic sisters, this remarkable long-term research project has made headlines worldwide with its provocative discoveries.
Yet Aging with Grace is more than a groundbreaking health and science book. It is the inspiring human story of these remarkable women—ranging in age from 74 to 106—whose dedication to serving others may help all of us live longer and healthier lives.
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