CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter—BEYOND THE BUCKET LIST [R, 4-27-23]
Our local online newspaper carried a piece titled “Five Things That Should Be On Your Bucket List If You Live In Indiana.”
I live in Indiana, but didn’t read it. I’m way past having a bucket list.
Later that same day a different outlet carried the news of the death of Harry Belafonte. We once saw Harry in person. That wasn’t on my bucket list. I never had a bucket list before cancer, because I wasn’t old enough to need one. Cancer, though, changed everything. Every opportunity became its own bucket list.
We’d always liked Harry, both as a performer and as a Civil Rights activist. I think Helen also liked him for reasons that did not interest me. Kind of like my fascination with the acting ability of Sophia Loren did not interest her.
So, when I was on chemo, when Harry came to do a concert a ILSU, we went, even though we lived some hours away from Normal then, and even though managing my Groshong catheter and my other medical issues were not easy when we were away from home.
Especially when we were in
a Motel 6.
I say that as though we frequented the Motel 6 chain. We did not. Especially after that experience.
I suppose we chose Motel 6 just because it was cheap. We needed to be careful. Our future earnings were not assured. We didn’t know how much my treatments would end up costing. We wanted to spend our money on seeing Harry, not on sleeping upscale, like in a Motel 8.
Our motel was neither dirty nor dangerous. But it was austere. The pillows were the size of pizzas. Domino’s. The sheets were like gauze. The towels were the size of wash clothes. The wash clothes were the size of handkerchiefs. The soap bar was the size of an M&M.
But Harry was all Harry. Down to making us sing “Matilda” with him as many times as it took to get it right.
Seeing him was worth staying in a Motel 6.
Our bucket list was simply one of opportunity. If someone like Harry or Roger Whitaker or Edward Villella got within driving and paying distance of us, they went onto the list. Not because they were Bing Crosby or Rosemary Clooney or Fred Astaire, someone we’d always wanted to see--but because we didn’t want to pass up the chances that did come our way while we waited for the opportunity to check off the lines on some proleptic list.
We’re so grateful now. Our radius for driving and paying is about ten—ten miles and ten dollars. No longer able to mark off items on a bucket list, but such good memories, of Harry, and The Music Man, and My Fair Lady…and Motel 6.
John Robert McFarland
My fishin' buddy, Jim O'Connor and I always stayed at the Motel 6 in Corpus when we went fishin' in the Laguna Madre. It was always pretty nice. The counter personnel were friendly and eager to give us a up-to-date fishing report. Of course, that is no big deal. Everyone in Corpus, Port A, or Fulton Beach is eager to give their fishing report. Almost always ending with "You should have been here, yesterday".
ReplyDeleteWhen Marilyn and I go to Port A for my birthday, her's, or for our anniversary we never stay in a Motel 6. Marilyn is a city girl and she thinks cockroaches are dangerous; besides, pelicans seldom fly in front of your window at Motel 6.
I went to a Harry Belafonta concert at IU. He was so personable, it seemed he was leading a sing along for just me and a few friends, when actually the concert hall was full.
Roy Orbison is on my bucket list, because I saw (heard) him at the Austin Music Festival in the 80s. An outdoor event, I had gone to, to hear Danny Young and the Cordell Hurd Band. I had a front row seat. Cordell was no big deal, back then. I went back stage afterwards to say "Hi" to Danny and Roy Orbison was setting up. Wow!
We are like you and Hellen. No big bucket list for us. 10 and 10 is about right. Though I am driving up to Bella Vista, Arkansas next week for my brother Jim's 90th surprise party. I won't stay at a Motel 6. Jim will put me up...I assume.