To Do Good Do More With Less

It may have been sometime in the early ‘90s that I heard Molly Ivins speak at a local indie bookstore. She was on tour to promote her book, Molly Ivins Can’t Say That, Can She? I recall that the place was packed.

Ivins was a journalist and author from Texas and just a year younger than I. In both her writing and speaking, she was witty, politically astute, and unafraid to speak truth to power. 

After her talk, most of the Q&A likely focused on her book, and maybe a bit on Texas politics. But at some point, I remember her offering up her advice for what it takes to lead a satisfying life.

And though my memories from that long-ago book event might be a bit fuzzy, I’ve never forgotten that advice: Do good, have fun, learn something. Nice and concise, though broad. I have a feeling she practiced what she preached up until her death—too, too young—at 62 in 2007.

I think of those three approaches to life more and more these days, especially as those days are dwindling: Am I doing good? Having fun? Learning something? This day or the next? And, how, exactly am I doing each?

Lately, I find myself fixated on the “having fun” part, especially on planning to have fun. Sure, it’s pretty easy for me to have spontaneous fun—while writing, teaching my workshops, riding the train, petting the neighborhood dogs or schmoozing with the baristas at Starbucks.

But I also want to schedule in fun, writing down in my calendar then holding myself accountable to particular fun events. I also need to more precisely define what I think a fun event might be.

Last week, it was going to see Wes Anderson’s ”Isle of Dogs,” a pretty fun movie. Before that, it was watching the Loyola Ramblers in the NCAA tournament at my local bar, which also serves as a venue for spontaneous fun.

Then there’s choir practice and singing at mass. I always have fun doing that, partly because making music always puts a bounce in my step, and mostly because my fellow singers are themselves awfully fun.

OK, so I’m hardly experiencing a fun deficit, but there’s always room for more. Which means given the ticking clock that I’ll have to learn to do more with less. Sounds like a warm, sunny day at a baseball game with a couple of beers, Knuckle Balls, and an Affy Tapple Caramel Apple might just do the trick.