Kicking the bucket list
Our Golden Years should be spent relaxing, not jumping out of a plane
Apparently, I am more of a slacker than I thought. Not only don’t I have a bucket list, “make a bucket list” isn’t even on my to-do list.
Everyone else seems to have one these days, from Cameron Diaz and Bill Clinton to bloggers who document their progress in exquisite detail.
The top item on Clinton’s bucket list: “Ride a horse across the Gobi Desert to the place where people think Genghis Khan is buried.” This guy has already crossed off his list “Be elected president of the world’s greatest superpower” not once but twice. Can’t he just relax?
Getting old is supposed to be fun now. And bucket lists mark just how much fun we’re having. If you’re lucky enough to be able to retire — a big if — you’re expected to then learn a new language, travel to a wildlife preserve in Kenya, take up Bikram yoga or sharpen your culinary skills.
Leave it to us baby boomers to turn retirement into summer camp. I just want to grow old the old-fashioned way.
What does it mean to live a full life? Is all this activity essential? That’s a big question. And I have no idea of the answer. But at 56, I’m getting old enough to start giving it some serious thought.
I’ve always believed that having a to-do list was enough to get me up in the morning. My life won’t be fulfilled till I cross off items such as “delete emails from inbox” and “plane the closet door that sticks.”
I don’t need a bucket list filled with stressful things such as jumping out of an airplane or hiking to the top of a mountain to motivate me. And besides, I don’t want to be motivated. I just want to relax and spend time with family and friends.
Friends of mine who have already retired are logging almost as many miles as Hillary Clinton did as secretary of state.
I keep telling them that my wife and I are planning a trip abroad. We have from time to time talked about going to France or Greece in the same sort of way I sometimes mention that I’d like to be a hawk for a day.
The truth is: I find travel exhausting. Just booking a flight on Expedia is more work than I like to do in a day. It’s not that I don’t like new experiences. I just like routine more. I recently read about a psychological study examining the link between anticipation and happiness. Turns out most people report being happier before their vacation than during or after.
Think of this anticipation as foreplay, a sort of tantric sex where you focus on arousal rather than surging toward the finish line. Maybe there is truth to the greeting-card wisdom that it’s the journey, not the destination, that matters. As in planning the journey, not the journey itself.
I’m at the age when I realize there are things I’m never going to do — not because I don’t have enough time or energy, but because I really don’t want to. Like taking swing-dance lessons. How old do you have to be to just admit that you think dancing is stupid? I think I’m there.
We seem to think of ourselves as sharks as we get older, afraid that if we stop moving we’ll die. Or at least get really boring. Reading, gardening, cooking and spending time with friends don’t seem to be demanding enough pursuits to build a golden age around. Every book and article about retirement tells us to find our second career, to learn some new skill, to find our purpose all over again.
I don’t think degree of difficulty is a key metric of living a fulfilled life. George Vaillant, a psychiatrist who directed the Harvard Grant Study, a project that followed 268 Harvard grads for 75 years, has a different idea.
Vaillant says the key to living a happy, purposeful life comes down to one thing: relationships.
So you can go hang-gliding in Peru with your son or daughter. You can work on that relationship and on your bucket list.
But I’m going to be in the garden, reading a book before I cook dinner for some friends.