Caught a half hour of The Bucket List on cable tonight. The whole concept of this movie just makes me queasy. A billionaire and a mechanic, both dying, become friends in a cancer ward and then proceed to jet all over the world, crossing off items on their grandiose list of things to do before… kicking the bucket. As if doing this would allow these men to find joy in their lives, die happy, go to heaven, get reincarnated, what have you. There’s a whole crass-ass industry built around this idea (have you seen the 1,000 Places to See Before You Die series of books?) that masquerades as inspiration. It used to be that “he who dies with the most toys wins” but now it seems that “he who dies having had the most peak experiences wins.” Puh-lease. I have no trouble grasping the concept of wanting to squeeze some extra sweetness out of life, especially when things get dire. Believe me, I get this. However, why do these lists always seem to involve herding wildebeests in Kenya or biking the Great Wall or skiing down Mount Everest? What in the name of Sarah Palin would an average Joe get from seeing the pyramids?
Why can’t we instead focus on the countless moments in every day when we don’t take risks, when we deny ourselves, when we hurt ourselves and others? I would pay good money for any book that could teach me to go a whole day, just one day, without feeling mortified or embarrassed. My all-time favorite vision of life after death is Albert Brooks’ Defending Your Life. In this 1991 comedy, heaven is a cross between Disneyland and city hall, where your life is judged on the basis of whether you lived fearlessly or not. It’s beautiful because it’s simple. Doesn’t matter if you are a lawyer or a street cleaner, if you’re afraid, you’re not living the life you can and should be living.
