Back in the day — those prehistoric times before Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson made that beautiful movie whose title became a meme — I had a wish list, much like those of everyone I knew. I wanted to travel, to see the world; to take flying lessons; to parachute from a plane (not while piloting it); and to do a stand-up routine at New York’s famous Comedy Club.

I also wanted to find a cure for cancer and discover a means to bring about eternal world peace. But at that point I knew I had ventured outside the realm of realistic ambitions, so I limited myself to the fun stuff.

With the exception of travel to some amazing places, none of those wishes came true . . . flying lessons were too expensive; I couldn’t quite master the “tuck-and-roll” part of parachuting; and I finally had to admit to myself that I seem to be the only one who really thinks I’m funny.

But that’s no reason to give up wishing, and hoping, and striving . . . just for different things. So what if I’ll never climb Annapurna? So what if I’ll never be able to buzz the White House in my very own Cessna Skyhawk? Just look at the things I have done:

— I’ve already outsmarted the life-expectancy tables by six years;

— I’ve climbed a mountain (a small one) in Czechoslovakia;

— I’ve lived abroad, twice;

— Seen more countries (about 15) than most of my friends;

— Survived living in Moscow during the “Great Mafia Wars” of the early ‘90s, where I had my very own KGB minder;

— Learned another language;

— Passed out in a five-star restaurant;

— Raised two children (no mean feat);

— Attended both the Bolshoi and the Kirov Theaters;

— Hand-fed an apple to a horse named Nagano in Montreal;

— Flown in a World War II biplane where I was seated in front of the pilot, so that it felt as though I was in control;

— And more . . . including a few things better left unsaid.

Still, reminiscences will only keep a person happy for so long; we all need things to look forward to. So . . . taking into consideration my present circumstances, I’ve made a new bucket list, which I would like to share with you:

First: I would like to live long enough to accomplish at least three of the other items on this list. That’s important, because once you’ve reached my age, you begin to see the wisdom in eating dessert first.

Second: I still plan to read at least one more volume of the Great Books (leather-bound, gold-embossed) that I bought over 50 years ago in a moment of great optimism and total madness. I have already read Doctor Zhivago and The Brothers Karamazov; I’d like to tackle some Shakespeare next. We’ll see.

Third: I would like to bake one more cheesecake. My recipe came from my mother, who in turn got it from a New York friend of hers eons ago. Everyone who has eaten it has declared it the best cheesecake ever. The only thing stopping me from creating another one is mobility. And height. It’s hard to maneuver around a kitchen and manipulate a mixer, bowls, measuring utensils, a spatula, and all the various ingredients when you’re (a) unable to move about without your rollator, and (b) too freakin’ short to reach the big mixer on the countertop.

Fourth: I want a mani-pedi. I’ve never had either, because I never considered them necessary. But now is the time for a little frivolity, don’t you think?

Fifth: I’d like to go skinny-dipping. Always wanted to, just never had the nerve. Of course, in my present condition, it would be best if I were to do this alone, with no one to witness. I really should have done it when I was much, much younger and still reasonably good-looking.

Sixth: I really don’t like New York . . . it’s the only city, of all the cities I’ve lived in or visited, that evokes an otherwise dormant sense of paranoia. But I have always wanted to attend the Metropolitan Opera on opening night, in full regalia. I’ve probably seen “Moonstruck” once too often, but that’s the image I have.

Seventh: Like most people, I’d love to win the lottery. I don’t want hundreds of millions of dollars . . . it would be more of a burden than a blessing. Just a few million so that I could share it with the people I love, and spend my remaining years not worrying whether my Social Security check will be in the bank again this month. Of course, in order to accomplish this, I’d actually have to buy lottery tickets, so my goal is to do that.

Eighth: I would like to be able to publish my book.

Ninth: I wish I could get rid of this life-long compulsion of correcting everyone else’s grammar. I know it’s annoying; but I was brought up and educated in an age when “he and I” — not “me and him” — went to the movies. It’s like fingernails on a blackboard.

Tenth: And finally — in a segue from a bucket list to a Cinderella-style wish list — I would really love to place an advance order for my next life (assuming there is to be one). I would ask to be taller, have perfect teeth, be able to sing on-key, and be sufficiently well-coordinated to be able to play tennis.

And I would really, really, REALLY like to be reborn into a world of peace and harmony.

But that’s probably asking way too much.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
4/5/25