Since an eponymous 2007 film, it has come to stand for a checklist of things to do before one dies.
In any bookstore you can find tomes consisting of lists of things to do before you “kick the bucket.” Fifty Places to See Before You Die, or 100 pieces of music to hear before shuffling off this mortal coil. A Hundred Books to Read before commencing to pine for the fjords.
Of course there are places I’d like to go with my children, and adventures I hope to be able to share with them. I’d even like to be the kind of person who could parachute out of a plane or zip line through a rainforest, but none of my hopes and dreams in this life consists of solitary indulgence.
My problem is with parading around with “bucket lists”; I recoil from their premises.