I have been remiss, dear reader, in neglecting to tell the dastardly tale of the real beginning of my sister dates. Yes, technically, we did do the chocolate walk in October a few months before the night of the ‘incident”, but it was that very night that the idea itself took off and we determined to make it a monthly outing.
It began of course with an invitation to dinner at the Mount Hope Estate, which the original mansion being built in early 1800’s and later additions in the late 1800’s makes it a unique blend of Federalist and Victorian styles. How apropos when considering the events of the night. At first, my sister lamented being unable to attend without a second guest, what would people say to show up to an event sans escort, but to go with a different gentleman would be quite out of the question for a married woman, such as herself. It of course fell to her sister to chaperone, or rather she could use the excuse to chaperone me her unmarried sister for a bit of fun together.
Now any true society dinner begins with the mingling of the guests to share juicy gossip and tales of one another. Our hosts that night were no different, slipping tantalizing details of the other guests. And such scheming amongst each other as I never did before see. Perhaps, my friends are above such petty squabbles, or perhaps they are simply better at disguising their nefarious ways. Either way, keep your secrets to yourself lest you become the subject of such gossip!
Having thoroughly enjoyed mingling, slowly sipping on wine and engorged ourselves on the latest potential scandals, we were called to be seated four our four course meal. The food was as delightful as the entertainment! A feast for both the eyes and the mouth! My sister and I compared notes from our careful study of the key players for the night. We sensed a plot afoot and we would not be caught out unawares.
Well, we certainly were right in our suspicions for shortly after dinner, came the cries of murder! But who had done it and why? My sister and I only needed to give one another a short nod before jumping into the adventure to help solve the mystery! Naturally, we had to launch an investigation of our own, questioning the key players and making careful observations of the crime scene. Having made our careful inquiries we were certain we knew the culprit! Alas, we were fooled! ‘Tis a good thing, she and I were not official investigators or else an innocent would be locked up and the foul murderer would have escaped!
As it turns out, the play rotates who “done it” so that even if friends share the experience with one another or social media, the night is not entirely spoiled ahead of time. A clever idea on the part of the organizers of the play. Our play was set in the 1940’s, so I donned an outfit to reflect the late 30’s/early 40’s to really help me “get into it”. It really is up to you how much to “lean into” the character of the night.
I’ve done other dinner plays where the play happens around you as part of the process of dinner. While they were enjoyable, the added element of being able to get up to interact with the players as if you were actually part of the story was what elevated the whole experience. Additionally, the backdrop of a murder mystery in the midst of a Victorian mansion was an added bonus, few places can boast of. The mansion is not located among the bustling cities, but rather out in the countryside, surrounded by the fields of grapes for the winery which only added to the more gothic elements of the mystery. And did I mention the food? Mount Hope outdid itself with the food. That alone was worth the ticket price!
So how can you find a murder mystery dinner?
I would suggest starting with google or facebook events to see what places in your area may periodically host one. If you have more than one option then, consider other “enhancements” to the experience. Do you have the option for a gothic Victorian mansion like myself? I certainly recommend thinking through the setting of your play. Is there a time of year that more suits you for mystery and fun, like in October or in the darkness of winter? You can also often see hints of the plot and setting that might strike your fancy more than another.
I certainly encourage you to dress up a little, take on a “part” yourself and have a bit of fun with it. Obviously, don’t be an obnoxious audience member and try to be part of the play itself. Don’t go in stealing all the attention and confusing the other audience members who can’t tell if you’re supposed to be part of the theater trope or not. However, a little more immersion can make your evening more magical.
I want to drink deeply from the cup of life. I want to see the wonders of nature. I want to try new things. I want to challenge myself. I want to grow and change and become a better version of myself than I was yesterday. I want to gain new skills. I want to meet interesting people. I want to see art, appreciate beauty, appreciate architecture and see with new eyes. I want to listen to music that is reminiscent of heaven and speaks to my soul. I want to stay up so late I see the sunrise the next morning. I want to dance and sing without regard to what others think. I want to take candid pictures and post them without filtering or editing. I want to take road trips. I want to be spontaneous. I want to run through the forest. I want to chase fog and make flower crowns. I want to visit coffee shops, browse thrift stores for treasures and explore craft fairs. I want to visit museums and archaeological sites. I want to explore places. I want to simply stop and admire the view. I want to make memories and deepen my relationships with people.
I don’t want to spend my life in regret wondering about the chances I never took. I don’t want to spend hours scrolling through on my phone wishing I could have the life I see on social media. I don’t want to waste my time dreaming of things I can’t afford or do or places I can’t afford to travel to. I don’t want to miss out on the things I could be doing because I was too busy wishing for the things that are out of reach. I don’t want to spend all day with my head in the clouds not minding what is right in front of me. I don’t want to listen to the people telling me that what I am isn’t good enough or that my life isn’t there yet. I don’t want to miss the blessings I have demanding the blessings I don’t have yet. I don’t want to live in fear of what people might think or say or do because of being authentic to myself.
My bucket list isn’t just a checklist, it’s a call to action to remind me that I get to create an adventurous life. It helps push me to keep trying new things and to seek out new experiences. I’m always adding things to my list and revising it. I am constantly on the lookout for opportunities and unexplored areas. I may not always be doing things that people would consider “bucket list worthy”, but they’re moments outside my usual routine whether it’s taking a train ride to do a wine tasting or dying a scarf.
It’s also not about chasing the next thing because life is supposed to have the mundane and the routine. There will be dishes and laundry, there will be days at home with tea and books. There will be lazy mornings snuggling with cats. Those are moments to savor as well which is why adopting a cat is on my list. It’s about living. Whether it be the everyday moments or the extraordinary and all the moments in between.
And more than anything, dear reader, I want to live.
Maybe it was the music itself that enticed me. Perhaps, it was the wine at dinner. Or maybe it was the allure of Italy itself that wound itself around my legs and compelled me to dance. All I knew was the night was still young as the sky was turning to twilight and the saxophone drew me towards it. What else could I do, but begin to sway and dance to its siren call? As I twirled and danced upon cobblestones, I caught glimpses of the musicians smiling as they played, keeping the song going as I was caught up in its magic spell. My skirt swished gently about my legs, my arms flowed of their own accord. I can still almost hum the low, almost slow almost sensual tune, though in truth it plays along the boundaries of memory, faded with time and unfamiliarity.
To be young and uninhibited again, unbound by the constraints of societal expectations and propriety. To simply find yourself in a place where the music is playing and the urge to dance takes hold. It is not very often one stumbles upon street musicians unless one is in a city, such as Rome, but one must take advantage of such moments. It is one of my favorite memories from my semester abroad because I danced as if I were alone, unconcerned about the crowd or who might be watching. I let myself live freely in the moment, embracing the serendipity of music at twilight.
As it so happens, not only did I delight those playing by my ample appreciation of the music, but also of a nearby photographer. He happened to catch me dancing and was inspired by my boldness. For a short time afterward, I was his muse with a short and impromptu photoshoot in the plaza before the Great Colosseum itself! I unfortunately only have the pictures which were sent on to me and lost the gentleman’s name. But I will forever be grateful for the phenomenal memories he helped preserve. Perhaps, this blog post will find him and I will be able to give him proper credit.
It was not my first foray into impromptu dancing, for I also danced at the spring festival in Marburg in the rain, again much to the delight of the musicians. I may have said only moments ago, “to be young and uninhibited again”, but the truth is, I still am! Uninhibited that is – I’m almost 40, one has to embrace middle age gracefully and not cling to youth in some sort of grotesque fashion. One should not stop dancing to street performers just because one is no longer in one’s 20’s! One should not stop embracing moments of joyful abandon. Is there a song to sing at karaoke? Belt it out! Did you stumble across a public art project inviting you to paint? Join in! Be spontaneous! Embrace your impulses and passions! Be silly! Don’t be afraid to look foolish! Had I not been fearless to dance in the middle of public, it would not have led to a photoshoot in the middle of Rome! How many people can say that of their journeys? Not many? Exactly! Fortune favors the bold after all!
Now dear reader, you may be wondering why this would grace a bucket list as it seems like rather a small thing. Really, dancing on the street of all things to a “lowly” street performer? What sort of standards do you have for your bucket list, you may ask.
First, it’s my blog and I’ll blog what I want to. My list, my rules. You go make your own list with your own rules.
Second, consider how few people would actually be bold or brave enough to do this? How many of them hold back? Does it even occur to them to dance? Or have they been so conditioned against any sort of unauthorized or predesignated fun that they don’t even think to dance? Have you, dear reader, ever acted with such impulsive abandon? For me this was about living without fear or anyone’s judgements. A life well lived includes doing things off the beaten path, allowing your passions and impulses to occasionally run riot. I love music and I love dancing, why should I deny the urge to embrace life when it so fervently invites me to its arms?
Besides, when you do embrace life not only do you bring delight to yourself, but also you bring joy to other people. In my hometown, there is a young man who frequently goes out dressed as a templar knight. His reasons are his own, but he started to become a bit of a celebrity. People are posting sightings of him. They’re excited to see him. It brings us joy. I love that there’s someone out there just living his best life as a templar knight! There’s another town in Canada where a man walks around with a giant carrot and people LOVE it. There’s stories of people passing out flower crowns or leaving chalk art on the sidewalk of their neighbors to bring them joy. The world needs our whimsy dear reader!
Sidenote: Before doing chalk art, check your local ordinances as in some towns this may be illegal – some places really have outlawed fun!
All of these are stories of people doing something a little impulsive and making the world a better, more magical place because of it. The third reason is that it made my trip to Rome that much more memorable. Consider how many travel stories seem to consist of the same things, especially such destinations as Rome. Don’t get me wrong there is a reason people go to the same places and see the same things, it would be silly to go to Rome as a tourist and eschew the Colosseum as plebeian because everyone goes to Rome to see it. But this punctuated my week-long trip with a truly memorable experience, it made the Colosseum special to me. When I think about the Colosseum, I think about dancing! I strain to recall that haunting tune. For a moment, I am back there. If we don’t authentically express ourselves out in the world, what are we even doing? Are we really deeply experiencing life or just pretending to?
How can you dance like no one’s watching?
If you are interested in replicating the magic of impromptu dancing, the best way is to use your ears. Pay attention to your surroundings. Obviously if you visit a city, you are much more likely to encounter the stray musician. Be sure to pack along a few dollars to show your appreciation if you are intending on seeking out someone to dance to. However, I will admonish you to not seek this out specifically. After all, half the fun is stumbling about it naturally to let the music extend its hand with a flirtatious invitation to join it. Then by all means accept the invitation, let it embrace you in its arms and let go.
The principle of course is to be open to serendipity and to take advantage of the opportunities that arise. When a creative opportunity presents itself, meet it head on, boldly and passionately. Dive in with careless abandon. After all, a life well lived is one with passion and risk. Not every boldly taken action will end well. You may be booed off stage of the open mic comedy club. You may be told afterward you sang worse than a braying donkey. But that’s okay! In the words of Theodore Roosevelt, “It is not the critic who counts….The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.” Do not content yourself with sitting on the sidelines dear reader! Enter the arena of life and dance as if no one was watching!
Completed: Spring 2009
Miles from home: 4,371 (though this can be completed almost anywhere)
Having recently celebrated another journey around the globe, it seems like a good time to reflect back on life milestones that I have accomplished. After all a birthday is a milestone that we mark off each year. As we get older, birthdays can become times of existential dread. Time has passed and we may becoming overly focused on all the things we haven’t accomplished. Maybe we got married, but we still don’t have children. Or maybe you had kids but never got to school. Maybe you went to school and launched a successful career but never got around to tying the knot. We can become so overly focused on all the things we still haven’t done, that I think we should make sure to celebrate the things we have accomplished. Hence my reverse bucket list and this blog – by writing things here it helps keep me focused on the positives to build on them rather than allow myself to get bogged down in the quagmire of unfilled dreams.
Now most big milestones of life are usually things like marriages, birth of children, graduations, professional accomplishments, etc. That isn’t to say those are things we must do or should do. For some people none of those things are things they want to pursue and good for them! A life milestone for them may be adopting a pet, starting a non-profit, backpacking solo through Asia. As always, dear reader, embrace your own journey and individual inklings.
When going through my Reverse Bucket List, it was a natural thing to include my education and professional development as past items worthy to celebrate. Higher Education is often something that graces people’s Bucket List and for good reason. It is one way for an individual to develop themselves professionally and have opportunities open to what one hopes is a better path forward. As many in my generation can attest, a degree is not a promise of success, it is merely opening the door to possibilities that would otherwise be closed.
High School Graduation: The start of the journey
There are also many paths to education after high school including trade schools, certificates, and even self-taught skills. College isn’t for everyone depending on their own personal goals. If you desire to have your own plumbing business, getting a degree in engineering may contain useful information a plumber would need, but it’s not going to help you with that goal. My goal was to become a therapist, so I knew that I would need to obtain a higher education in order to achieve the goal. The education piece was part of the journey, not necessarily the goal in and of itself.
Over the course of almost 13 years, I obtained a dual undergraduate degree in Psychology and German, completed my MSW program, and successfully sat for two licensing exams, first the LSW and then the LCSW. Not only did I graduate from these programs, I graduated with honors or if you’re feeling fancy “cum laude”. The LCSW represents the long journey to achieve one of the highest levels of expertise and competency in my chosen field. Completing it took thousands of supervised clinical hours, continuing education credits, studying, attending classes and commitment. There were times when I did consider not completing it, wondering if it was really worth it. However, I knew the opportunities it would open up once I got it, more so than any degree or certificate I had yet obtained.
I think it’s important to celebrate not only the achievement of an end goal, but also all the smaller goals in between. When we reflect on the journey, we can appreciate how that journey enriched our lives, potentially more so than the goal itself. Going to college was more than just the knowledge gained, though I certainly gained a solid foundation at Messiah College with regards to my profession. I went through rigorous coursework, taught by phenomenal professors who truly cared about my development as a budding mental health professional.
In addition, college was an experience of living on my own, having additional responsibilities and freedoms, navigating different social systems and expanding my world views. For the first time, I was regularly interacting face to face with people who came from not only all over America but all over the world. I found myself challenged and stretched in unexpected ways. I learned to look at things from a different perspective. I formed tight-knit bonds with my circle of friends, who while I may not see very often, the moment we get together again, it is as if no time has passed. Part of my undergrad experience was the opportunity to live and study in another country for five months (post on that later). My semester abroad is something I wouldn’t trade for the world.
Walking across the stage to stand in collective triumph at the end of college, with all my friends and classmates who took the journey with me, is a moment that will stay forever in my mind. I still remember the pride in my sister’s eyes as she hugged me close to say, you did it and how grateful I was that my mom got to see that moment when only four years before in my freshman year I got the phone call that she was in the hospital with a stroke. I was filled with excitement and hope for the future. I had dreams of what my life was about to become.
A lot of those dreams didn’t exactly pan out. Graduating into the recession made life difficult and a lot of the projected decent jobs that I was told would be there when I entered the workforce, were gone. The original plan was to get a good job and work towards paying my student loans down before going back to graduate school. The economy had different ideas. After two years of working at a low paying but enjoyable job with autistic children, I decided to apply for graduate school and get my higher education. Honestly, had the pay been decent for an undergraduate degree, I probably would have never left that job. I loved working with those kids! However, despite requiring a degree it paid about the same amount as someone with only a high school diploma with zero prospects of a decent raise, so I choose to go back to school.
Unlike college, my experience in grad school was more a frantic run than a journey I took the time to savor. There was no room for extra things like Japanese Culture Club, Swing Dancing, Irish Step Dancing, Fencing or Flags. There wasn’t even time for making friends. I worked and went to school, both keeping me busy during most of my waking hours. Rather than invest in social relationships of grad school, I choose to simply maintain the ones I had. However, lest it seem that the experience was less glamorous than my undergrad, the highlight of my graduate experience was my internships and my discovery of macro level social work.
Two amazing gentlemen that I had the privilege of working with in Haiti
I had the privilege of being the American contact for a non-profit committed to assisting young men and women in Haiti obtain a higher education and improve their job prospects. I worked with about 20 young men and my Haitian counterparts Daniel and Lubin to develop the education program, coordinate with the American educational resources and encourage the students. I even spent a week down there meeting with the students and providing professional development workshops. My second internship was helping to plan and implement a Golf & Gala Fundraiser for orphans in Africa. My final internship was helping to run an emergency winter shelter for homeless women in my local city.
After graduate school, I sat for my LSW exam and passed. It would be another 7 years before I finally had the necessary 3,000 hours of clinical supervision and could sit for my LCSW. In that time, I was a Family Therapist, a coordinator of another Homeless Shelter and a coordinator of a housing program for individuals with disabilities. In the summer of 2023, I was able to sit for the exam and passed with flying colors. From the time I decided to become a therapist in my senior year of high school, I finally could call myself a LCSW after almost 17 years. Naturally, my family and I celebrated this achievement.
Proudly holding my LCSW license at my job
The journey was not an easy one. There were many setbacks and delays with going to grad school and finding a clinical supervisor resulting in almost 6 years “lost”. However, I wouldn’t call them truly lost or wasted. I have always trusted the path that was before me and that despite everything, it was the one I was meant to walk. There were reasons for the delays and setbacks, skills I needed to develop, lessons I had to learn, experiences I had to have and perhaps, people I needed to meet.
How can you celebrate your own professional journey?
Take time to reflect on your accomplishments! Toot your own horn! Be proud of all the things you’ve done! Obviously, dear reader, if you got a degree, you should look on that for the accomplishment that it is. However, if you did not, there is still much to celebrate. One of the most successful people I ever had the privilege of knowing never got her college degree, yet she started a non-profit, ran a successful hospitality business, started a consulting business, runs an annual fundraiser for charity, recently sold her business for well over a million dollars and started up another one. She has been a vice-president of operations of an international company, an actress, model and more. There are so many different careers and journeys out there each with their own measurements of competency, expertise and success.
Regardless of whether you’ve gotten a degree or not, it is important to remember your own measure of achievement. What the world says is a mark of achievement and what you want to actually obtain, might be different things. It’s your life; you only get to live it once, so you get to set your own professional goals and what it means to obtain them. Only you know what it took to get to this point in your life. Only you know the personal struggles that you had to overcome and all the small victories along the way that got you here. Celebrate your journey and look to the future!
Completed: LCSW Obtained July 2023
LSW Obtained July 2016
Master of Social Work magna cum laude Obtained May 2016
Bachelor’s of Psychology & Bachelor’s of German cum laude Obtained 2010
Miles from home: A Reverse Bucket List can be completed at home. I wrote out a whole list of items, but to do a deeper dive, I recommend journaling about them, like my blog post above.
Cost: For purposes of a Budget Bucket List Reverse Bucket List Items are free as they are celebrating past achievement.
However, full disclosure is in order – Going to school is expensive, the average student debt for college degree & master’s degree is $71,000 and my debt was about this average. My graduate school was less than an hour from my house and my college was about an hour and fifteen minutes from home, so still close to home.
I highly recommend that if you are considering school or other post-secondary education, to research carefully the projected job market of your chosen field, the starting salaries and the cost of living in your area.
Slowly, slowly he worked stone against stone chiseling out a dimed sized impression. The sun marched its way across the sky as he worked each part of the snake. An hour’s work would only yield four and he had so many to go. Still in this sacred place of sun, earth, water and sky where the underworld opened to the deep below, he kept to his work. One piece among a dozen others each marking the important spiritual events of his people. As the sun kissed the rock on the fall equinox lined up perfectly with the head of the man’s snake, he smiled. The stories of these drawings the life, spirit and blood of his people, a testament to their presence which would continue to echo for a thousand years and more. A thousand years later, though lost to time after the conquest of the Susquehannocks and the colonization of the Europeans, they are not forgotten but remembered simply as the Safe Harbor tribe.
To stand on the Little Indian Rock and Big Indian Rock is to be transported back in time. On either side of the river the trees still stand tall and proud and to the west, not even the telephone lines can break the illusion that one is seeing the forest as it has been for a thousand years. Though truthfully the dam has raised the water levels significantly and the river has eroded the shore line. Still one can see why they felt this place was special. With the thickness of the forest the sky would have been often blocked out from view under the canopy of leaves. The wide river would have opened up to the glittering cosmos even as the deep crevasses beckoned to the underworld below. The jutting rock up out of the water would have been a place of earth within water. A place of earth, water, sky and the underworld colliding where the river goes from a soft, lazy merading flow to rushing current as it suddenly drops.
Big Indian Rock seemed to have been used primarily for social purposes with its markings for hunting, directions and even a helpful gps tag noting that it is a two day’s walk to the mouth of the river. There is evidence of camp fires perhaps for when they wished to view the night sky. Despite its size the petroglyphs are mainly concentrated in the cardinal directions. Little Indian Rock seems to have primarily been used for spiritual purposes having several Thunderbirds and snakes which line up with the spring and summer equinoxes. There are several which seem to depict the mystical Wendigo and even a Misiginebig.
One of the largest collections of petroglyphs east of the Mississippi. In this picture you can see a Thunderbird and the mysterious water serpant.
Graffiti dots the rest of the rock from the various visitors over the years primarily from the 1800’s until about the 1980’s when the rediscovery of the petroglyphs and their significance put a halt to any additional markings. Not through any sort of ordinance, but through education and the respect that education has bred through the local populace who still kayak and fish around the rocks. Despite its historical significance and being home to what is considered the greatest collections of petroglyphs east of the Mississippi there is no official protection for either Big or Little Indian Rock, no barriers preventing anyone from clamoring up the rocks to see them. The location of this ancient art is perhaps the best protection that can be offered: a wall of water separates it from the land on either side requiring a boat to gain access and most mischief makers are easily deterred by the strenuous physical exercise required to obtain access.
At first, one could easily miss the ancient markings as no more than strange impressions in the rock. It takes a sharp eye to spot them, they are most easily seen at sunrise and sunset when the angle of the light allows them to stand out in sharp contrast. Which is why on a late August evening, my sister and I set out with a small tour group in kayaks to the two islands. I was a little nervous having grown up hearing the dangers of the river especially around the dams which so easily can sweep a person down into their churning depths never to be recovered as their body remains trapped within. However, we were a safe distance from the dam and our guides delayed our departure twice due to unsafe river conditions, so I trusted them to take us out. We donned our life jackets and were given a quick overview of kayaking. My sister and I were the only two non-experienced kayakers as the other members of the tour had brought their own kayaks.
With little ceremony, we hauled our small vessels to the launch site and were quickly swept up in the quick current of the conestoga river rushing to meet the Susquehanna. At first, I paid little heed to my natural surroundings focusing primarily on learning how to steer and maneuver the kayak. There were a few run ins with others but we laughed it off with some pirate jokes. One of our guides rushed to the front of the group where the other stayed in the back to assist any stragglers. We were assured that if we needed a tow back they would assist to ensure we all made it back safely. Being a novice, I was not very good at reading the river and got swept up a few times in quick, churning currents which swirled my vessel around. After a few moments of panic and fruitless fighting, anxious that I would be swept away from the group and lost down river, I regained my footing (so to speak) and allowed myself to literally go with the flow. I was able to maneuver my kayak behind some rocks which broke up the flow long enough for me to jet across to rejoin the group of boats. Having conquered my first challenge, I felt much more confident in my ability to traverse the waterway, though I was certainly not ready for a solo venture.
Not being quite so nervous about the river, I was able to start to take in my surroundings and really enjoy the experience of the kayak gliding across the surface as my paddle dipped into water. Overhead birds circled and cried to one another. The trees on either side of the river blocked out signs of civilization, the illusion only broken by the distant sounds of traffic and the dam nearby. However, with the dam behind me it was easy to get lost in it. Occasionally, I would place my paddle across the kayak to simply float and breathe. I could see why so many people will spend their weekends out on the water leaving behind the sometimes suffocating atmosphere of the urban environment for the open expanse.
We first visited Big Indian Rock where we were shown the petroglyphs and given some education on the people who once made them. Though we no longer know their name they are thought to have been part of the Algonquin people who were known for their making of petroglyphs; other artifacts that have been found in the area also point to cultural similarities with other known Algonquins. We were given a brief overview of native beliefs when he showed us a thunderbird. The one on Big Indian Rock is a rarity for its depiction of feathers on the wings. It is uncertain what the significance of the feathers were. We then clamored down the rock back to our kayaks to go back up the river to Little Indian Rock. We were warned to stay away from the poison oak. Having had poison ivy earlier in the summer, I was quite motivated to stay away.
I was absolutely amazed by the incredible amount of petroglyphs concentrated on Little Indian Rock, a feast, a mythical serpent creature, snakes marking the passage of the sun, deer prints, footprints, bear paws, thunderbirds, animals that could be beavers or otters and more. It was such a plethora of art made meticulously over hundreds of hours. Each dime sized impression took over twenty minutes to make leaving little doubt that it was done with intention rather than something a few bored teens may have completed. It seemed that all too soon we had to leave this magical place, but the announcements coming from the dam warned us that it would soon be time to get off the river and the setting sun threatened us with coming darkness. As a novice kayaker I did not wish to embark on my first night adventure.
The trip back was considerably more effort than going down as the primary task was steering the kayak with the current. The trip back was against so it required us to hug the shore of the larger island in the middle for a significant portion where the current was slower. I made the mistake of trying to jut across too soon which left me fighting the current. I strained my muscles forcing them to conquer the river’s strength with my own and was quite grateful I had been working out using a sledgehammer to mimic kayaking throughout the summer. My sister required some assistance and was towed part way for the trip back. Primarily to help her navigate the river and not get caught as I was in the stronger currents which threatened to push me back. Despite a novice’s mistake, I was able to overcome and make it back on my own, my arms happily exhausted but not overdone.
The sun had not yet completed its journey to the underworld and we were happy to have made it back. We helped haul the kayaks back up the shore to the grass and thanked our guides for the lovely evening and assistance in getting back.
How Can You Kayak or See Petroglyphs?
This was definitely one of those “bang for your bucks” kind of trips in that it crossed two things off my list at the same time: petroglyphs and kayaking. I had been kayaking as a child, but it was only on a small lake at summer camp and I wanted a real experience. Renting a kayak would have been pretty easy, but given the dangers of the river nearby, I wasn’t comfortable exploring on my own. Just two weeks before, two people perished in the aftermath of the flooding from the hurricane, and others had to be rescued. The river can be quite dangerous under certain conditions and had it not been for the guide shouting some advice to get out of the churning current, I may have ended up many miles downriver. I recommend that while you can easily purchase or rent a kayak, you ensure you have completed any necessary licensing requirements for boating and you have done the necessary research to ensure you understand the dangers of any particular river.
As for the petroglyphs, they are found throughout the United States and even the world. They range in ages from 1,000 to 40,000. Some can be found still in the native surroundings like the petroglyphs on Big and Little Indian Rock whereas others have been removed and placed in museums or have had barriers built around them to protect them from harm. It really depends on what you consider “good enough”. For most people, I imagine seeing them in a museum is perfectly fine. For me, it was important to view a set in their original surroundings. For instance, it was really cool to see how close the sun aligned with the snake marking the fall solstice which was only a month away when this trip was untaken. There were footprints on the rocks and we stood close by them wondering what they marked and whether we were supposed to look out and see something important. Has anyone looked to see if they align with any star signs? All of these questions can only be asked and answered if they remain where they were untouched. Unfortunately, leaving them untouched also means risking them to the elements and potential vandalism.
I found out about these petroglyphs several years ago and was very disappointed to see that they were nearly inaccessible for someone without access to the water via boat or kayak. I had almost resigned myself to not being able to see them, until a post on Facebook caught my eye, Lancaster Uncharted was hosting kayaking tours to them. It was unfortunate that because of an earlier trip I took that year, I was unable to afford to go that summer, but I marked my calendar for the following spring when I was sure tickets would go on sale and sure enough was able to snag them in May for August of the same year. There are many sites dedicated to the location of various petroglyphs and tours to go see them. As always, I encourage you to decide what suits you. Remember it’s not about replicating my adventures as they are merely to inspire you with the possibilities that are out there! After all, what is available in my backyard may not be in yours, but that’s what makes these adventures so fun and unique! Go forth and explore dear reader one never knows when and where one might find a portal to 1,000 years in the past.
Completed: Aug 23, 2024
Cost: $115 per person
Miles from home: 20 (plus another 1/2 mile of kayaking down the river)
There’s something mysterious about the late fall, when darkness creeps over the earth stealing away precious daylight hours and the earth loses its color. Once familiar trees transform into shadowy forms at twilight, their fingers reaching out to the unwary traveler. The comforting sounds of animals scurrying about take on a more sinister tone and even the wind begins to moan hauntingly. Is it any wonder that such a time of year made many believe that the veil between worlds was thin and gave rise to the spooky season we know and love so well?
It’s a time of year when many travelers flock to the former places of death in hopes of encountering a being from beyond. Certain places are known to be more haunted than others and few other places top Gettysburg, Pennsylvania on the list of most haunted places frequently earning the 3rd or 4th spot. The majority of these restless dead are thought to come from the decisive battle of Gettysburg, one of the deadliest battles in our nation’s history and is considered by many to be the definitive turning point in the civil war. Over 51,000 soldiers perished and many more were injured.
Being both curious to learn more about the history of Gettysburg and to get ourselves in the spirit of the season, my sister and I embarked on an evening stroll to suspend belief for an hour or two and perhaps, catch a glimpse of a specter. Given the town’s reputation for its hauntings and that it goes all out with Halloween decorations, it is decidedly recommended to arrive early for a walking tour because parking was rather difficult to find as hundreds of spooky enthusiastics milled about also hoping for a ghost sighting. With a little trouble, we made it to the appointed meeting spot which was difficult to spot as it was an unassuming door for the Museum of Haunted Objects.
Our guide was a jovial man dressed in the manner of an 1860’s gentleman, complete with top hat, lantern and walking cane. He explained that the reason for the number of hauntings was due primarily to the unburied and still restless ghosts of the Confederate Army. He explained that in the aftermath of the battle, the town and surrounding countryside were overwhelmed with the corpses of the dead. The stench lingered for months as they struggled to lay to rest the dead. It seems almost a natural reaction in the face of so many that the dead of one’s enemies were more hastily buried with little honor or respect. Many of the townsfolk wanted to move on from the aftermath of the battle, to forget the horrors from the streams of blood and piles of amputated limbs littering the outside of the former field hospitals. Unfortunately, the dead not properly put to rest lingered on a constant reminder of the horrors of those three days.
We actually began our tour at a curious place, the local high school where in the course of an expansion several confederate soldiers were uncovered. It was strange to think that hauntings were so common in this area that one may go to school directly next to ghosts especially when reflecting on all the late night music practices I attended. Having set the tone as being a town so haunted ghost sightings are your local high school are hardly something to comment on as out of the ordinary, we set off to learn more directly about the different places and their stories. It also gave credence to the theory that the hauntings were a result of restless Confederate soldiers in need of peace. Because after the discovery of the Confederate soldiers, they were buried properly and the reported hauntings ceased.
But not all hauntings can be explained by disrespect for the dead. Ms. Jennie Wade was the only civilian to die during the intense fighting – a rather shocking fact when one considers the numbers lost to the fighting. Jennie had come to support her sister Georgia who had just given birth along with her mother and her brother. She was mixing dough for biscuits when a stray bullet passed through two doors before hitting her in the back. Though certainly given a proper burial by her family, it does seem she remained to haunt the home due to unfinished business – she never got married. Unlike many ghost stories, ending in misfortune, it seems that Ms. Jennie is a generous spirit rather than a malicious one as she is said to help single ladies who visit her home. Just place your finger on the interior door bullet hole and you shall receive a marriage proposal within the year. One does hope that she is able to find rest after granting happiness to so many others.
Graves behind the orphanage
We heard other stories of haunting in the area including the orphanage where the guide told us a rather chilling story of children inviting others to join in a game of ring-around-the-rosie much to the dismay of the adults. Interestingly enough the orphanage itself was not directly connected to the battle but rather its aftermath. With so many lost in the war, many children found themselves without a caregiver which led to the founding of a new orphanage in Gettysburg under Ms. Philinda Humiston. Initially, the orphans were well cared for until a new Headmistress took the reins of power, Ms. Rosa Carmichael. Ms. Rosa is reported to have locked a four year old boy in an outhouse in the bitter cold of December, keeping others in chains, sometimes in vats of water where they risked drowning and beaten them. There were several children who were missing and never found. Visitors to the orphanage are said to hear the clanking of chains and the cries and laughter of children. Some report to have seen the visage of the evil head mistress. It seems a bit macabre to me that people will pay for a chance to interact with the lost children of the orphanage and such a cruel creature. It is not the stories of ghost which haunt, but of the cruelty of people.
However, it was not the stories of ghosts that haunted me (pun intended), but rather the description of the carnage of the field hospitals and the battles. It was not just death which turned this quiet town into a horror show, but also the number of amputations. The guide described how there were so many body parts that they began to simply toss them outside the window of the hospital, piling up limbs, that doctors and nurses waded through blood trying to help the wounded and dying. At one place a group of captive soldiers being held in a basement had blood raining down on them through the floorboards. Whether one believes in ghost stories or not the reality of the battle could not be downplayed. I think in our modern era it’s easy to forget the real horrors of war being so far removed from it as we often are.
What I found most interesting about the tour was seeing the battle from the perspective of the townsfolk and how it affected them many generations after. It is what still defines the town to this day. When many people were frolicking about in their costumes, giggling at the sightings of ghosts and enjoying a festival atmosphere, one must wonder how we arrived at this point. Almost a hundred and fifty years ago nearly 50,000 people perished in a war to decide the fate of America. The town was washed in the blood of patriots fighting for freedom. Doctors and nurses frantically rushed to save lives, hacking off limb after limb in a desperate attempt to mitigate the damage. After the armies left, it was the townsfolk who were left to pick up the pieces and bury the dead. Perhaps, there is something to be said that an experience so horrific can be transformed into an evening of lighthearted fun, traversing the streets by candlelight as the guide does his best to both educate and scare you. Perhaps, it is an indictment of a culture so indifferent to real human suffering that it seeks to capitalize on it. Perhaps, it is a coping mechanism of a place so scared by the horrors witnessed both in those three days and in the years after, that we can hardly blame them for embracing the kitsch nature of the spooky season to transform it into a more palatable form.
Regardless, it was an intriguing evening of history and even anthropological musings on the response to collective trauma. Though those musings were from my own internal observations than anything the guide said. I found the guide to be quite informative and an avid storyteller who was quite capable of raising goosebumps as he relayed the tales of the ghosts who stalked the streets at night.
Our guide looks almost ghostly in this picture!
How can you go on a haunted tour?
There are many towns and cities throughout America that have reported hauntings from Gettysburg, PA to Savannah, Ga, from Salem, MA to Portland, OR, from Chicago, IL to Sante Fe, NM and everywhere in between. My own hometown gives a ghost tour each fall! You can usually find them being advertised from Mid-September through early November. There are places that will offer ghost tours throughout the year.
Whether you believe in ghosts or not, I certainly recommend them for the history as they often give a different perspective than other walking tours. Often, they showcase the lives of ordinary people like Jennie Wade who only wished to help her sister and had dreams of getting married or they help us remember the victims, like the orphans who suffered at the hands of Ms. Rosa. They can be nights of fun and even frivolity, but at their core, they are stories to remember the darker parts of our collective past, even if they’re presented in more palatable forms. Nevertheless, they are stories worth remembering.
Sometimes in the process of completing one bucket list item, you stumble upon another. I call these “bonus bucket list items”. They were not pre-planned or even hoped for, they are simply opportunities that present themselves and it is up to you to seize the moment. After all, have I not said we should make the most of our travels? These I call “bonus” items and they follow my principle of making the most out of the longer, further afield trips. There are times when travel becomes a necessity [see post], so it becomes important to consider what other items you can include. It isn’t about avoiding travel altogether, rather limiting travel. On my trip to see the eclipse in Vermont [see post], I stayed with a family friend who happened to have horses.
I offered to assist her with their care having never had many close interactions with the noble creatures, despite growing up in a farming community. Truthfully, I have probably had more direct interactions with cows than horses, but I was an eager student. Shelia showed me the proper way to brush them and introduced me to each horse, telling me their stories. Each had come from an owner who had not understood their unique needs or read the signs of discomfort and pain resulting in them acting out.
The horses were a special breed, Icelandic, known for their smooth gait. Much like with dogs, it is important to understand what a breed is bred for. One would not expect a husky to do well at shepherding sheep nor would you want a border collie to pull a dog sled. Each breed was carefully curated for a specialized task, one the dog is a natural athlete at. There is an old saying that a fish will think itself stupid if its judged by its ability to climb a tree. Stoltur came from an owner who had tried to use him as an Olympic Dressage horse, something an Icelandic would not be good for as he was punished for his natural gait and motion. This meant that it was important for me to demonstrate first that I could be trusted with such a special set of horses before any overtures of riding could be made. Luckily, Sheila had already worked to restore trust between horses and man, so making friends with them was rather easy.
The three horses were gentle as lambs with me as I groomed them. Stoltur even began to engage in mutual grooming, nibbling ever so gently on my arm. In the crisp air of the early spring, the horses and I spoke to one another each learning the other’s cues. I would brush them and see how they reacted ensuring I first went to the head of the heard, Mjolner and worked my way down to Stoltur. The Icelandics are known for their gentleness and good tempers, and they were admirable hosts. I made fast friends with hay and treats hidden away in my jacket. I remembered the advice to hold out the treats on the palm of my hand, keeping my fingers straight to avoid any mishaps with teeth.
After spending some time getting properly introduced to one another. Sheila offered to let me ride one. I could barely contain my excitement as I enthusiastically said yes. She saddled them up and asked her son, Astri, to accompany us as lead. She assigned Stoltur to me as he was the best kind of horse for a beginner, forgiving of mistakes and of an easy temper. She choose to ride Gimli. She told me my only job was to keep my seat. I was given a vague idea of how to get up into the saddle, put my foot in the stirrup, grab the mane to help me up and hoist myself over. I did quite well. Sheila observed dryly that I was no couch potato.
Riding a horse was rather a natural thing for me. The key of course was to keep my posture without being stiff. Having had six years of marching band in highschool, I was well acquainted with the idea of good posture without stiffness. It was a matter of feeling the rhythm of the horse and moving my hips with his movements. I found myself relaxing into the motion and adjusting as I needed to. She only needed to correct me once saying that I was slightly off balance to one side.
It was magical riding a horse along a mountain trail. The soft sound of hooves against hard dirt. The way the world melted away. It was rather meditative. For once, I felt very much grounded in my own body as I am prone to being a bit air-headed. I had never been called a natural athlete before having always been clumsy, slow and generally the opposite of everything athletic, but when it came to horses, Sheila told me I was one. I suppose it makes me a bit like an Icelandic horse trying to do Dressage or a husky trying to herd sheep, without being given the right sort of task and the right sort of environment, I did spend my whole life thinking I was useless at anything athletic.
I had not embarked to see an eclipse thinking I would be able to check off horseback riding from my list. Instead it was an opportunity that presented itself and I made every use of that chance. While I could book a horseback trail ride near my house, the experience of being able to connect with the horses first, to hear their stories and bond with them isn’t something that could be bought..
Gimili with his bling
One never knows what opportunities are lurking around the corner or what things could present themselves when venturing outside one’s door. It isn’t about forcing anything to happen, but rather cultivating genuine relationships. Sheila probably would not have allowed me the opportunity to ride her horses had I not demonstrated that I was someone who could be trusted with them. I demonstrated that I could listen to their cues and respond well to them. When Stoltur nibbled my arm, I could have easily freaked out or misunderstood. Instead, I backed off from grooming and observed him for any signs of irritation before proceeding any further. I checked in with her to ensure I was reading him correctly. She confirmed it was a good sign that I was doing well with him. It was a matter of giving him the respect he deserved and following her directive. One cannot approach a horse like a dog or a cat anymore than one can approach a cat like a dog. Each creature has its own way of communicating and engaging. It is up to us to follow the terms set by them. By fostering a good connection with her horses and her, it opened up the door for a magical experience. By cultivating authentic connection, all sorts of opportunities and horizons will become open to you.
How can you experience horseback riding?
Now, it would be rare for you to meet a horse owner who can present you with the opportunity to ride a horse, like I did. However, there are many stables throughout the country which offer horseback rides or trail rides. A quick google search is all you need to get started and many of these are under $100. For a more intimate experience with a horse, you may want to sign up for a series of lessons.
Completed: April 7, 2024
Miles from home: Bonus bucket list!
Cost: Free ($60 – $100 without a friendship discount)
Full disclosure: This is a more expensive bucket list item and required travel.
When I was a little girl, I had asked for a book on astronomy for Christmas. I had always had an interest in the stars and heavenly events. I was fascinated by the movements of the planets and the constellations. I wanted to know more about this great universe and at times the sheer vastness was somewhat terrifying. The infinite can be quite overwhelming to a child below the age of 10. This is perhaps why I also have an appreciation for eldritch horror.
At the very front of this book was a list of eclipses both lunar and solar in North America and was devastated to learn that I would not get the opportunity until 2017 or 2024. I longed to be able to see it and the passage of nearly 20 to 30 years was almost as unfathomable as the breadth of the universe itself. Time of course passed and I grew into an adult. I had half forgotten about the solar eclipses as a dream put to the side, when I read an article online that reminded me of such a momentous event was going to occur in North America in the summer of 2017. Now granted, in truth total solar eclipses do occur with some frequency, but not in the same place which is what makes them seem rare, so one would be correct in stating it isn’t that momentous. However, the ability to travel to see one isn’t readily available.
I was lucky in that the event happened to coincide with my friend’s 30th birthday which kick started all of us turning 30 that year, so naturally we had to travel down south to see it. Her parents also wanted to see it and invited her and her friends to stay with them in a very nice hotel for a week down at the beach. We were quite pleased to see the budget for the event cut down significantly by their generosity. However, luck would not be with us, for upon the moment of totality, after carefully watching the path of the moon across the sun in the oppressive heat of a southern summer in August, the clouds came in and ruined the experience. The disappointment I felt was almost as crushing as the heat. The rest of the week was still quite pleasant, so I do recommend if you are going to travel somewhere for an eclipse to do so in an area you want to visit if having to go more than a few hours from your home.
Naturally, I checked the calendar for when the next eclipse would occur and waited eagerly to hatch my plan to view it. This path was a more auspicious one for me as it passed within a few hours drive of my house. In 2023, I began to plan more seriously considering exactly how far away I wanted to book my hotel and drive to totality knowing that hotels would be booking up quickly and highly expensive in the path of totality.
However, my mother had other plans, better plans. She had recently rekindled a friendship with an old college friend who lived in Vermont, Sheila. They both had been saying how we should come up and visit her on her small farm. With her being so near the path of totality, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to go up. She reached out and planned an extended weekend at Sheila’s and also reached out to my “Uncle” Jay to possibly stay in the greater Boston area after the eclipse. With our “hotels” booked, we had hatched a plan.
On the Saturday before the eclipse, we drove the six hours up to Vermont, listening to an audio book and enjoying the scenery of Pennsylvania, New York and Vermont. We made infrequent stops to maximize our travel time. Pro-tip, if you are traveling through many small towns and need the restroom remember libraries are your friend! We were driving off the beaten path and needed to heed the call of nature. Unsure of where we could go for relief, I happened to spot a sign for a local library as we drove by. I made a small u-turn and parked just outside. The librarian was friendly to two road weary travelers. Support your local libraries friends for they are one of the last true public spaces for all.
We arrived at Sheila’s in the later hours of the evening, met her two dogs Quinn and Filipa, her two ragdoll cats and their adorable five kittens. I honestly could have died happy just meeting the kittens. They were the cutest balls of fluff you ever saw! We also met her two sons Danny and Astir. On Sunday morning, I was introduced to her three Icelandic horses and even got to ride one [post here]. On Sunday afternoon, we mostly relaxed, spending a little bit of time exploring the small Vermont towns nearby to give our hostess a break from entertaining guests. We took time to take in the mountains. The majestic nature of the Vermont mountains cannot be understated dressed as they were in their finest late snow cover and evergreens. The crisp air carried the promised scent of spring not yet realized. We stopped at a mom and pop store to sample and purchase maple syrup. We perused the local art gallery for our token souvenirs [post here].
On Monday, it was the main event. The eclipse wasn’t to start until the afternoon, so we had plenty of time to go to brunch at a town about 40 minutes north of Sheila’s home. We took time to see another small town before heading up the mountain for the prime viewing spot. Something that was quite extraordinary for my nerd heart, was that the property where we were invited to was owned by none other than an astronomer who assisted on the Hubble telescope.
It was quite the crowd of neighbors considering the population density of the state. Many people had extra eclipse glasses ready in case someone needed a pair. We took turns using a colander as a pin hole camera to see the path of the eclipse. One neighbor brought food with him to share. Some people read books as they waited while others drank beer. This time the clouds stayed away, the sky was crystal clear and the stage was set.
It is difficult to describe the totality of an eclipse. Throughout the time of the partial leading up to totality, the light begins to diffuse and everything begins to lose its color. The temperature begins to drop and a light wind breezes through dissipating most of the remaining clouds. Seemingly without warning, the moon slips in front of the sun and her shadow plunges the world into a strange twilight. Sunset is on every horizon, the temperature finishes dropping by 10 degrees. Pictures do not do it justice because cameras are made for light, which means most pictures or videos of the eclipse show the black orb of the moon surrounded by fuzzy light. That isn’t what it looks like in truth. In truth, it is a black orb ringed by a thin silver line. Your mind while understanding logically what is happening still has its primal alarm bells ringing of the otherworld breaking through to this one. It is easy to imagine how the ancients would have seen it as disfavor from the gods or an ill omen, when the very light of day is blackened, when the star itself is put out, what else can it be? All too quickly, it passes, the moon continues her dance across the sky heedless of her shadow and the small creatures she has awed. The light comes back and day resumes its throne.
After nearly thirty years of waiting, I had finally seen my dream become a reality. It took two trips and some luck, but I had made it happen.
You may dear reader be wondering what such a thing has to do with my blog about bucket list items on a budget, especially when the next eclipse won’t be until 2045 and I did arguably spend a lot more money than most of my items. There are several reasons, the first is to remind you that even if it is 30 years in the making, bucket list items can come true. The second is that the best lain plans of mice and men may still become a bust. I was extremely disappointed in 2017 not to see it, but the disappointment led to an amazing experience later. I would not have gone to Vermont where I got to snuggle ragdoll kittens and ride an Icelandic horse. I may not have gone to Boston as well, had I not missed out. Missing out can lead to better things. We never know what the universe has in store for us. Often it is even better than we could have imagined. There will be times when you carefully plan a bucket list item, you may like me spend a little more or travel a little further just to fulfill this experience only to have your plan dashed to pieces. These are moments of opportunity, be on the lookout for other chances and make the most of the time regardless. Even if I had missed out on totality, I still would have several other awesome experiences. The third is that there are some things that travel becomes a requirement. However, by being more frugal on our other items we will have plenty of money in the bank for these singular adventures. Lastly, there are many other astronomical events which you can keep an eye out to see. The sky is a window to a vast and amazing universe so look up and see what wonders there are to behold!
How you can complete this or something similar:
Pay attention to the news for stories of local happenings in the sky and try to make plans to either take a day off or come in late to work so you can stay up late to see it. Be aware of where the dark skies are in your area. https://www.darkskymap.com/ If you do want to see a total eclipse, you have several years to save and plan as at the time of this writing the next one will be in 2045. If you want a cheaper viewing, opt to stay at a hotel outside the zone of totality and then drive to the zone early. My sister found a Barnes & Noble to view the eclipse from. She had a comfortable place to wait, access to a cafe, a bathroom and plenty of entertainment. There were stories of people booking hotels cheaply in advance only to have the hotel cancel their service in order to charge astronomical prices. An air b’n’b was going for 1,000 a night before in the path of totality. My sister found a much cheaper option outside the area and I found some friends.
If this isn’t your cup of tea, you can still consider the principle of this item. Mainly, completing a childhood dream. I had been waiting almost 25 years to be able to see an total eclipse and while it was a more expensive item, requiring more planning and travel, it was worth it. Part of the point of spending less, while living more is so when these sorts of opportunities come around, I have the means to complete them. Keep an eye out for opportunities to pursue your dreams and don’t be afraid to jump on them.
Completed: April 8, 2024
Miles from home: 430 miles
Cost: About $600 (estimated increase without friend support: $800-900)
Much of what is on a bucket list may be considered a bit hedonistic. That is a criticism that some people have against them. To some people, it is a list of “empty pleasures”. Life should be spent bettering the world not chasing short term experiences you just check off a list. There may be some truth to those criticisms, but then again is it much worse than spending my days watching Netflix, scrolling through social media and spending all my money on amazon? The point of the list, for me at least, is to cultivate a sense of adventure, to explore the world, to experience life and learn about myself. It was about getting out of my house, away from the screens and living, to stop dreaming and start doing. It can in some ways be a form of self-expression. As someone whose daily profession is leaving the world a better place, having a bucket list is a form of self care.
However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t still have goals that are altruistic in nature or have reflected on past actions on my reverse bucket list that fall under the category of “leaving the world a better place”. I’ve had experiences of volunteering and sacrificing part of myself for the benefit of others that have left a positive impact on me. It is part of my own self-expression and I feel it is important to include those experiences as part of a rich life.
One of those altruistic goals was to give blood. As it turns out, I have a O+ blood type which, while it is one of the most common blood types, it is also a good donor blood type. Blood types come in A, B, AB, O and positive or negative so you can have AB+ or B- or in my case O+. The letters A and B indicate common antigens and O indicates the absence of either A or B, positive and negative indicate the presence of a common antigen or the absence of it. If you have the antigens you can receive blood without the antigen but if you don’t have the antigen you can’t receive blood that has it. Therefore, I can receive both O+ and O- but not any A, B or AB blood.
It is hard to describe the importance of blood donations. I am a daughter of two nurses, so I grew up knowing how important blood is for modern medicine. Blood allows doctors to perform miracles, to complete life saving surgeries that would normally kill a patient because of the blood loss, to treat cancer, to stop someone from dying from traumatic injury and treat chronic illnesses. A pint of blood can mean the difference between life and death and it is important to have an ongoing fresh supply.
So when my school held a blood drive in my senior year, I naturally signed up to participate. It was important to me to give back and as it turns out my family’s blood lacks other antigens than the positive. We also have “sticky” blood which makes it great for trauma victims since it helps with clotting. Even though I didn’t enjoy needles, I knew that I was making a difference when I laid down on the chair and presented my arm. It was such a small act of inconvenience for me, missing some class, a brief time of discomfort, but the impact of this life saving gift was more than worth it to me. Why wouldn’t I give up a few hours of my life to save someone else’s?
Being a positive influence in the world doesn’t always need big gestures or major political movements, sometimes something little can have a large impact. Full disclosure, I did faint when I gave blood for the first time. About 4% of people faint. It isn’t an indication of any sort of medical distress but rather a vagal nerve response. Unfortunately, I have had other medical issues over the years causing frequent issues of low iron levels which make it difficult to give blood. I hope to be able to give blood now that the underlying issue causing the frequent bouts of anemia has been addressed.
How can you donate blood?
Only about 3% of people ever donate blood and the demand for blood never ceases. It is a vital resource that cannot be replicated through other means. As they say “when you give, other’s live”. I highly encourage you, dear reader, to consider giving blood. If you cannot give blood, then consider how else you might positively impact the world.
Luckily, giving blood is fairly easy. Just call up your local branch of the American Red Cross to find out when and where they’re having their next blood drive.
In the age of social media, we are constantly being shown a carefully curated montage of other people’s lives whether that be our own friends and family or influencers. The pressure to present this picturesque life is almost constant, while the algorithms feed us a never ending message of inadequacy and insecurity. Not only that but influencers show us a steady stream of items, experiences and getaways that would “cure” all those pesky problems that we face.
I recently heard someone say “you can’t out consume an influencer.” Influencers are often given the items that they show us and can often turn around and sell those items. The items they do have to purchase are tax deductible and considered a business expense. They are paid to consume whereas the rest of us have to use our hard earned money to try and keep up with them. Not only are they getting paid to consume, many of them are making above the median income of $74,000. I certainly don’t make $74000. So yes, you can’t out consume an influencer.
No matter what you do, there will always be someone who makes more than you, is more successful, has a bigger house, goes to more places, does more things, buys more items and is considered “ahead.” Even if you manage to become the “top dog” of your current social group by moving up, you will expand your social group to include other people who are “higher status” than you. One of the reasons why when people move up the social ladder they continue to struggle to make it, is because they are trying to keep up. They get a promotion and make an extra $20,000 a year, but then they buy a better car, move to a better house, pretty soon that 20,000 isn’t going as far as it could have had they stayed where they were. But where they were often wasn’t that comfortable or perhaps, the “Joneses” convinced them that what they had wasn’t good enough.
It’s important to remember these things when considering your bucket list. I shared that I often go on an “adventure” about once a month. Most of the time it’s with my sister on our sister dates. This means that I have to pick and choose what I want to do when because I don’t have lots of time or money to be spending every weekend or most of my evenings out. Sometimes, this means putting an event on the calendar for next year in order to be able to go to a different one. Sometimes it means skipping out on something entirely.
Not every activity needs to be done or event attended. If it’s not for you don’t do it, even if it seems like the popular thing to do. You have limited time and resources so spend them wisely. It may be tempting to try and start to push the schedule to do more than once, maybe twice a month, especially when my feed starts to get filled up with events, activities, people doing things and going places. However, going out all the time means not resting and I have cats at home who have emotional needs that I am obligated to meet as their guardian. Besides, snuggling cats is on my bucket list.
Snuggling my little baby kitten!
Remember saying no to something, allows you to say yes to something else. Saying no to going out each weekend, allowed me to say yes to having pets. Saying no to some more expensive experiences, allowed me to say yes to going on a cruise with my family. Once we free ourselves of trying to keep up appearances and out competing the social media algorithm, we can start making real choices for ourselves that help us create real meaning in our experiences. We have to remember that what we often see is a facade hiding.
How many celebrities have we seen over the years share their struggles with depression, anxiety and feelings of inadequacy? How many stories have we read about the ultra rich with their empty marriages and loveless families? There are certainly celebrities that are quite happy and ultra rich who have wonderful families, but they did not create their fulfilling lives from chasing things and trying to keep up with others. Trying to keep up often fuels the negative feelings about ourselves. Recognize that you are enough, as you are. You are not your job, you are not your income, you are not less than because you have less, your value is not predicated on the things you have.
Having a bucket list has many benefits, but it should not be used to compare yourself to others or as a measuring stick of your self-worth. It isn’t about keeping up with the Joneses, it’s about living your best life right where you are.
Budget Bliss: Bucket List 