To Do list

Once summer morning about 12 years ago, when I was a TV news cameraman, I was diverted on my way into the TV station to cover a single-vehicle rollover accident on a rural highway outside of town.

I arrived on the scene and was stopped by the Highway Patrol. Beyond the patrol car I could see a pickup truck lying upside down on the side of the roadway. From the marks on the road and the condition of the truck it was clear the truck had rolled multiple times, literally cartwheeling down the pavement, ejecting contents of the vehicle with each bounce. One of those items, about halfway between where I stood and where the truck came to rest, was a single body, covered by a sheet.

Over the course of my 10+ year career at a TV news photographer I’ve seen my share of injured and dead people. This one, seen from a distance and covered by a sheet, was not abnormally upsetting. Not to be callous about it, but wasn’t something that haunted me. I felt sorry for the individual, his family and loved ones, to be sure, but in terms of visually disturbing images, this one was not particularly horrific.

No, what struck me about this accident was one of the first items to be ejected from the truck as it rolled, and therefore closest to my vantage point. It was a daily planner, one of those leather, loose leaf binders with a set of daily or weekly pages. It happened to be lying open on the road. Using my camera I zoomed in on the planner, and while I couldn’t make out any of the words, it looked to me like a to-do list.

A list of items that now would never be completed.

A list, no doubt similar to my own, the one in the planner on the dashboard of my news vehicle.

I’ve never forgotten the feeling I had that morning, wondering what that person had planned to do, and now no longer would. Wondering what items would forever be unchecked.

Fast forward a few years, to 1999 or 2000. No longer a TV News guy, I’m now a white-collar mid-level Advertising Executive. The Wall Street Journal hits my desk every morning. Flipping through it one day, I come across an article about a man name Ted Leonsis, an executive with AOL. The article praises his ability to prioritize his multiple responsibilities and get an incredible amount of work done, while still maintaining a balanced, fulfilling personal life. He attributes this ability to a single, defining moment in his life. I clipped the paragraph out of the paper and kept it in my planner – I still have it to this day. It reads as follows:

‘One of his defining moments, he says, came in 1986,
when he was flying to Atlanta and the plane made an
emergency landing in safety foam. “I said, ‘God, if I live,
I will play offense with the rest of my life,’” Mr. Leonisis
recounts. So he set out to create a list of 101 things he
wanted to do before he dies, including hitting a
hole-in-one, catching a foul ball and entering
outer space. To date, he has done 61 of them.’

I was impressed with one line in particular – “I will play offense with the rest of my life.” What a great philosophy. Live as though you are trying to score, trying to make things happen, trying to accomplish something. I resolved to do exactly that.

Sadly, several years later, I have to confess that I have not lived up to my goal.

In fact, one could make the case that I should be nominated for Defensive Player of the Year.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have plenty of to-do lists, and I cross things off them every day. Work lists – projects, meetings, reports – all listed, all accounted for, all regularly checked as Completed. Personal lists – birthdays, anniversaries, soccer games – duly noted, not forgotten, appropriate actions taken – Check. Honey-Do lists, household projects, all listed…not always checked off as often as others might like, but progress made nonetheless. Check.

No, what’s missing is The List. The 101 things, or whatever the number is, to do before I die. The Offensive Game Plan, if you will.

For try as I might, I have not been able to come up with items important enough, meaningful enough, to place on that list, and to strive to then cross off that list.

And having recently stood on my own gravesite (granted, I’m not in it yet), I’m feeling a bit of urgency to get a list made and make some plans to accomplish something.

Compounding the issue, I’m also at the age where a mid-life crisis is, while not imminent, certainly a possibility in the not-to-distant future.

The problem I have is trying to determine what is worthy of being placed on such a list. I think it would be relatively easy to make a list of things that might be fun to do, interesting to say that you did, but not necessarily worth devoting an inordinate amount of time to achieving. Using Ted’s list, for example, he mentions hitting a hole-in-one and catching a fly ball as things he wants to do before he dies. I think, while I would happily do either one, I’m not going to make a priority of doing those things. Sure, I’d like to hit a hole-in-one, but I’m not going to get out and play golf four or five times a week until it happens. I’m not going to go to dozens or hundreds of baseball games, strategically sitting in zones where foul balls are often hit, just for the opportunity to catch one. For me, those things would be nice if they happened serendipitously, but they are not things I personally consider worth pursuing.

For me, the list should include things that are worth pursuing – making a conscious, concerted effort to achieve.

One thing on my list is to one day own my own business. That is something I want to do. I’ve taken steps along the way to make that possible, and I continue to do so. I do believe someday I will do that.

Another thing I want to do is attend a game in the championship series of each of the four major professional sports – The World Series, The Super Bowl, The NBA Finals and The Stanley Cup Finals. To date I have done two of those – I’ve been to an NBA Finals game, and I’ve been to a Stanley Cup Finals game (in Madison Square Garden, no less!). Two down, two to go. I’d like to do the last two with Chris and Tommy, one day – perhaps go back and do all four with them. Is that an accomplishment, or an indulgence? Probably mostly the latter. But it’s on my list

Still, it seems like there should be more.

Also, I’m not talking about the things that, to me, are obvious, no-brainer, things to be expected. Being a responsible, involved parent. Being a faithful husband. Being a good role model for my kids. Being a good friend, being a contributing member of my society. Yes, I expect to look back on my life and acknowledge that I have done those things. But is that really an accomplishment? It seems to me that anything less is failure, not something to be recognized as outstanding. That is the bar – not exceeding the bar.

I want to look back on my life and point to certain things that I can justifiably feel good about accomplishing. I want to look back on a life lived, not a life existed. It’s not about leaving a legacy; it’s about leaving with few regrets. I don’t want to look back and have my list be full of “I wish I had…”

As I read this it seems like the post is getting very morbid. That’s not the intent. We’re all going to die one day. But for me, sometimes it takes contemplating death to force me to try to make the most of life.

It’s all too easy to get caught up in getting through each day, fulfilling all of the obligations that come with a modern life. Professional responsibilities, family responsibilities. Employee, husband, father. Often, at the end of each day, it’s considered a success if nothing has fallen through the cracks, if nothing major was forgotten or left undone.

More and more, it seems, I’m simply keeping up with the treadmill, not sliding off the back. And considering that successful.

Less and less, it’s about personal fulfillment, accomplishment, achievement.

The equation has to change.

I think the way to make the change is to make the list. It gets back to the to-do list. If it’s on the list, you have the obligation to get it off the list. You commit to doing it. It sits there, reminding you, badgering you, challenging you to knock it off.

Maybe many of you don’t share my feelings on this. That’s fine. I’ve been told by people close to me, including MBW, that I am extremely introspective, often hard on myself, and have unrealistic expectations about what I need to accomplish.

Perhaps that is true.

Still, that’s how I feel. The older I get, the faster time seems to go. Days become weeks, weeks become months. Especially when you have young children. Here is my observation about the nature of time when you have small children – any given day can last for what seems to be forever. Yet the weeks, months and years go by at light speed. One day when your kid is sick, or the weather is too nasty to go outdoors, it can take forever for bedtime to roll around. Yet the next thing you know, your kid is off to kindergarten. High school. College.

And all the while, time is running out to do those things you want to do, or think you want to do, or even want to make time to decide if you really want to do.

At some point, it becomes too late. It becomes, “I wish I had…”

I already have a closet full of things I wish I had done. What it that saying? You most regret the things you didn’t do, not the things you did.

Hey…I resemble that remark!

It’s time to revisit the playbook – the Offensive playbook. It’s time to look for the Flea Flicker, the Statue of Liberty, the End Around. To find those things that are meaningful enough to commit to doing. Those things that I’ll look back on one day and say, “I’m glad I did…” instead of “I wish I had…”

Find them, put them on the list, and knock the suckers off.

Before my metaphorical pickup truck cartwheels down that old rural highway.

When someone picks up my planner off that cold pavement and looks at my to-do list, I want them to see checkmarks in boxes. To ask, “Did he really do these things?”

To which, from the great beyond, I’ll say, “Damn right I did.’

I’ll put together my list, over time, and post updates here in this space.

If you care.

And now, to bring this back full circle to my last post.

What’s on YOUR list?

Tag.

It’s great to be The Family Man.