Kicks to be found in the bucket list

It was like being repeatedly hit over the head with a bucket. Actually, with a bucket list.
That's one of those phrases that has slipped easily into our collective vocabulary ­ that idea of a list of things we would like to do before... well, before we cannot do them, any more. Before we boot the aforementioned water container.
I heard it voiced several times in the past few weeks, during a multiple-stop trip to Florida. Each time someone referred to the idea, it drove home a certain reality even further into my consciousness --­ i.e., that I am rapidly approaching the "bucket list" time of my life. More to the point, I have reached my 60th birthday.
Sixty. It comes, not with despair, but certainly with a sense of finiteness. I remember when I thought 50 was old. Nope, it wasn't. And now sixty. Well, maybe. It feels different. Older, perhaps... that would make a certain amount of sense.
The term "bucket list" was used by a number of strangers we encountered, in a variety of locales. We sat on the pier at Key West and watched the sun go down -- ­ a daily ritual in that town, accompanied by street performers, drinks and then a hush followed by applause at the sun dips into the Gulf of Mexico. For a lot of people, enjoying that experience is an item on their bucket list. We heard murmurs to that effect on every side.
A delightful group of ladies aged 70-or-so who we met en route confided over cocktails that they had recently scratched an item off their bucket lists ­-- they had puffed on a marijuana joint at a birthday party for a septuagenarian.
I am not recommending this, but if anything can make grass cute, that might be it. Most, by the way, didn't inhale ­-- apparently, simply being in the vicinity of a doobie was enough to eliminate that item from their lists. From what we heard, though, the inherent giggling has lasted for days, perhaps weeks.
They are unlikely to turn into dopers ­-- their bucket lists are lengthy and creative. I think that's the secret of bucket lists ­-- make 'em long and whimsical. The saddest thing would be to scratch off the final item, look up, and wonder what else there is to do this week.
So I have begun ruminating about my own, personal list. A few things have been scratched off, mentally, even before I have started writing them down. Sea kayaking, for example --­ we were lured into kayaks during a visit to Captiva Island, and spent an enchanting three hours floating inches above sting rays, and gliding silently around islands inhabited by bald eagles. Amazing. It's off the list, but I'd do it again in a second ­-- so maybe some things can remain as repeat intentions.
Once upon a time, my list would have included running for political office. Well, that's off the list and, unlike sea kayaking, it is gone for good. Really. I have retrieved my hat from the ring, and I'm wearing it to the golf course.
Maybe that will be one item on the list --­ to shoot in the 80's. And no ­-- not on the first nine. I almost broke 100 on our trip, except the borrowed golf clubs were clearly defective.
And let me be clear ­-- my list will not share the stated item with those partying ladies. I have no wish to revisit that ancient era.
That was a long time ago, wasn't it? Sixty does seem somewhat advanced --­ or let's just agree, it's a good time to start making a list.