I'm a classic stumbler

I was recently asked what appeared on my "bucket list" of things to do (before I die) and the individual making this query was taken aback by my answer, so much so they repeated the question to ensure I had the opportunity to provide a more befitting reply.  Each time I responded in the same manner; however, in the second go around I pre-empted my response with the explanation that I had already been fortunate to have lived many of the experiences others typically place on lists such as this.  Also citing the recent loss of a family member and the travails that follow in sorting through what is relevant and what gets cast aside.

While I appreciate the sentiment of the question there is an entire website offering a means to fulfill one's dreams (bucketlist.org), a host of inspirational books dedicated to it and a plethora of movies depicting the quest to fulfill it,  most notably "The Bucket List" in 2007.  I approach the question of what I must do before I exit life from the standpoint of creating presence past my physical ability to be in the moment literally.  I'm bound you might say by the "eulogy virtue" as explained in a column authored by David Brooks in the New York Times "The Moral Bucket List." I am most certainly the classic stumbler...

"The stumbler doesn't build her life by being better than others, but by being better than she used to be. Unexpectedly, there are transcendent moments of deep tranquility. For most of their lives their inner and outer ambitions are strong and in balance. But eventually, at moments of rare joy, career ambitions pause, the ego rests, the stumbler looks out at a picnic or dinner or valley and is overwhelmed by a feeling of limitless gratitude, and an acceptance of the fact that life has treated  her much better than she deserves."

For the sake of not wanting to appear devoid of "list" material I can conjure at least one place I'd like to spend time in before I kick the bucket. I'd like to scan the rim of the Grand Canyon before some developer strikes a horrific blow to its landscape, all the while trusting that the possibility of destruction never comes to fruition.  Beyond that, I'll stumble my way toward an aim in creating meaningful memories indefinitely. 

Attaching a Tradition in Different Ways

I recently reminded a friend that the individuals and occasions we consider holiest to holidays must at times shift their emphasis from some past rendition to a currently relevant condition. 

Thanksgiving has as much a certainly historic point of view for those of us in the United States as it does a familial focus.  For me, the holiday is those things, but also a symbolic calendar notation of when my family tree grew to create me.  My parents were married on Thanksgiving Day some fifty odd years ago and no matter where I find myself in life, my thoughts turn to my parents and their union this particular day.  A day when two families gathered to celebrate a union, but also to enjoy a very large traditional holiday meal. Obviously I was not there, but there are photos capturing the essence of what transpired, just as all wedding photography tends to do in making a moment linger into perpetuity. 

Some years we were able to celebrate this Thanksgiving/ Anniversary together as a family, some years we were not.   The later more true after my mother passed away. If I was honest with myself we'd not found a way to reconfigure ourselves as a family successfully after my sister died just ten years prior. So in some ways the familial Anniversary/Thanksgiving I cling to so reverently is but a fading memory of what I wished it to be, the original two plus their offspring, under different circumstances and all in good health. 

However sad that may sound it actually has provided a leaping point to establish new  traditions over the years that incorporate many outside the familial bloodline.  Thanksgiving is more about friendships and the family-like structure they provide when your own is disconnected or deconstructed.  David Brooks, New York Times Op-Ed columnist expressed it best in a recent column The Age of Possibility, "We are inevitably entering a world in which more people search for different ways to attach." I would add to Mr. Brooks well crafted words, that attachment may for some not come from a mind set of keeping their options open, but from a strong desire to resemble what they hold dear.

So I gathered with friends at Thanksgiving with my cranberry sauce contributions: 1) Mingled (cutie oranges, blueberries, craisins~dried cranberries, Agave syrup, Cointreau and cardamon); 2 & 3) Homemade berry relish and jellied (prepared from a grocer fresh berry bag, mashed and strained); as well as 4) Ocean Spray's canned.  A single Thanksgiving side dish prepared in multiple ways intended to appeal to an assortment of personal desires.  In other words, multiple options to attain that singular cranberry sensation.  

Thankful for attaching in meaningful ways.