Two weeks later, my mind is still muddled, a condition I prefer to attribute to jet lag from my recent Egyptian sojourn rather than advancing senility. I am not an experienced world traveler, an impression which seems to have been amiably perpetuated by Marian Presswood. In the past, it has been true that I spent a great deal of time in England. A relative of mine once famously commented: "He goes to England the way I go to Wal-Mart!" An exaggeration, but a happy thought. Since the mid-1960s, when I was in graduate school there, England has been my second home and flying there was virtually jet lag free on the direct Delta flights from Atlanta, sort of like a trip from Benton to the Smoky Mountains. Now I even get jet lag riding the shuttle down Broad Street to the Chattanooga Choo Choo, which is not the mark of a world traveler!

 I continue to be glowingly impressed with the work of Polk County Historian Marian Presswood. Her NIFTY FIFTY NEWSLETTER for the PCHS class of 1950 is a masterpiece of research and a historical document to be preserved. In preparing this, she illustrates how valuable the computer can be in locating people and gathering information. Online she was able to track Miss Ruth Clayton (remembered in a previous column) and her mother to their final resting place in New Jersey. Such effort is hard on the eyes and the back and the mind, a kind of intellectual jet lag.

 The first time I heard the title of the new movie THE BUCKET LIST, without knowing anything about the story, I explained to a pedantic acquaintance that a "bucket list" was a list of what a person wanted to do before he or she died--in other words, before kicking the bucket. I've heard the term all my life, I said. Since then, having done much online research, he insists the term was created for the movie and could not have been in use in Polk County 70 years ago. He also informs me that "to kick the bucket" was originally a euphemism for committing suicide, fixing a noose around the neck while standing on a bucket, then kicking the bucket away. Whatever! If anyone remembers hearing "bucket list" prior to the appearance of the movie, please let me know.

 Finally, concerning Miss Clayton, I would like to end on a positive note. Pursuing the bucket metaphor, most of us thought that her bucket had a very big hole in it, but I believe she may have achieved everything that could have been on her imaginary Bucket List. Every time I saw her in Maryville she radiated happiness at living so close to Maryville College, which held such good memories for her, and she repeatedly told me that she had the one perfect possession she had always dreamed of -- a new Birdseye maple bedroom suite. Every time I saw her she managed to bring it into the conversation. Truly may she rest in peace.

 I have a long list of subject suggestions for future columns and hope to be better organized next time. If you have a Bucket List memory or want to chide, berate or even laud me, please contact me at nowandthenbhm@msn.com or at 300 w 6th St., Apt. 4-B, Chattanooga, TN 37402.