May 31, 2021--Bucket. List

We're relocating to Maine in a few days and a number of friends who know this have asked me to repost some of my "Midcoast" blogs.

Here is one from a few years ago--

"I'm 51 years old and afraid I don't have enough saved to retire before I'm at least 90."
A crew of arborists were at our place to remove eight dead and dying pine trees. They arrived with what seemed like an army of heavy equipment, including a huge tractor, a cherry picker, and a chipper.

"Really, it scares me. I thought for awhile that I'd be OK, but what with the cost of things going up by the day, I don't know."

This was Walt whose responsibility was to drive the tractor, especially to scoop up the chain-sawed tree parts that he then would then stack in towering piles.

"First of all," I said, "We're both much older than you, I really mean  I'm much older, not Rona, and we worked hard for many years and were careful savers. And we more or less followed my father's advice. He used to say that there's no freedom without economic freedom and so, he advised, earn as much as you can for as long as you can, save as much as possible, and live below your means. That is, until you retire."

"That sounds pretty smart," Walt said, "You did that? I mean, follow his advice?"

"Pretty much," I said, "And so now we're fortunate to be comfortable. We still watch our spending and Rona has been a smart money manager."

"I don't know," he said, "I pay into Social Security, my wife works three jobs, and driving heavy equipment pays pretty decent. But I worry."

"You're still young," I said, "There's a lot of time left for you to increase your savings. Even a few hundred dollars more a month, over time if you don't touch it, can make a big difference. But I get your point. We know a lot of people in their mid-sixties who had good careers but didn't save enough and now feel vulnerable. So it isn't easy, considering the rising cost of things, to feel secure. But, again, whatever you're doing now, like everyone else, you can do better."

"Enough about this depressing subject," Walt said, "Let's talk about how you guys live. I see you have a nice house here and a great garden, that I'm sure takes a lot of work to maintain, but it feels like you have a good lifestyle."

"We do," I said, "We're very fortunate."

"May I ask if you have a bucket list? Things you want to do before you can't do them any more? I hate to sound morbid." He shrugged.

"That's OK," I said, "I don't have that kind of list. I prefer to let things happen and to keep everything on the simple, spontaneous side."

"I have a thought," Walt said, smiling broadly, "See that cherry picker over there? With Mike in the bucket--that's what we call it, the bucket. It can raise him to 70 feet, high enough to get to the top of most trees, though you have here a few as high as, I'd estimate, maybe 90, 100 feet. Those suckers are pretty tall. I think one even has an eagle nest in it." He pointed to the top of a towering spruce.

"It's quite a contraption," I said.

"So how'd you like to take a ride in it? It could be on your bucket list, pardon the pun, even though you don't have one." He winked.

"I think I'd like that," I said, "I love heights and from the bucket I could probably have a view of the entire Point, including the Pemaquid lighthouse."

"Let's make it happen! Don't forget to take your camera."

With that he shouted to Mike to lower the bucket. Mike waved to signal he would bring it down to ground level. Its long extension arms telescoped into one another and then the two bulging arms folded one atop the other.

"Hop right in." Mike said, a little breathlessly, "Walt'll help you. It's a little tricky even for someone half your age." 

I thought he too was thinking bucket list. "Grab hold of him, Walt," which he proceeded to do, almost lifting me off the ground by holding onto my belt and easing me into the bucket. 

I'm not as balanced or steady on my feet as I used to be and having this sure-handed help made me feel secure and provided just the assistance I needed to finally tumble into the bucket.

"Good job," Mike said while at the same time getting the arm of the hoist mechanism to unfold and extend itself as we rapidly ascended. 

I looked down to where Rona stood, sensing she thought the three of us were crazy. Maybe a little, I thought, just a little.

Up in the air to the full 70 feet of the extended arm I could indeed see all the nearby houses, including ours, and off in the distance, about half a mile south, there in fact was the lighthouse. I'm not much for taking photos but this time I did to share what I was seeing with Rona and as evidence that I really did this.

After about 15 minutes of rotating the bucket as much as possible so I could get good views in all directions, Mike, with visible reluctance (he too was having fun) began to lower the contraption. 

On the ground, Walt moved quickly to help me get my quivering legs out of the bucket and then back on my own two feet.

"That was amazing," I said, "So much fun."

"Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to have a bucket list after all," Walt said. "Like maybe including skydiving?"

"That actually does interest me," I said, "Maybe for my upcoming birthday. It's a big one. I remember President Bush doing that up here in Maine, a few years ago. Maybe when he turned 90. I have a ways to go before that. But maybe you're right--I should make a list. In truth, it would be a list of things I probably won't get around to doing."

"Now you're sounding morbid," he said, But back to what we were talking about earlier," bringing me back to reality, "About retiring."

"I remember that," I said, truthfully not wanting to bring myself down from feeling so exhilarated and full of life.

"If all else fails my plan is to die on the job."

"What?"

"One day, a beautiful day just like today, I plan to keel over into a pile of brush. Simple as that."