I’m not sure where you stand on the subject of wishing, but I’d bet you’ve probably blown out a few birthday candles with your eyes closed. Tossed a penny in a fountain or down a well. Crossed your heart and hoped to die, but with one eye open because you really didn’t want to end it all on a whim.

Wishing can be tough. Sometimes we set the bar too high. We know we are asking for the impossible. We’ve all wished a thousand times that ice cream could be calorie free, and that we could eat all the chocolate chip cookie dough we want without having to loosen our collective belts ever again.

That’s not gonna happen no matter how much we wish it would.

Even the simple and reasonable wishes give us trouble. We wish for a good day, or a little sun with no rain, or we hope the boss will be in a good mood. There’s at least a 50/50 chance our wishes will come true. Then we get shot down. Most of us give up after a while. We become calloused from all the disappointment.

We might even get a little snarky and say stuff like, “Wishes are stupid. Only dumb people make wishes.” Or “Wishes are for kids. Grow up.”

I have a longer view.

I agree that wishes can be childlike. But that’s okay. That is how we are supposed to see the world. Regardless of popular opinion, there’s still a lot of amazing moments in life that are full of charm and wonder. Laughter is still the best medicine. A well-placed wish can still do the impossible.

To wish is to dream. Our dreams are the stuff of hope, and hope is the source of joy.

I’ll just clarify one thing. I am not drunk on optimistic fru-fru. I do not live in some fantasy land. I maintain this view largely, I think, because I have not seen even one minute of a nationally syndicated news broadcast in over two-and-a-half years.

I’m not bragging. I’m not recommending it. I just know that the TV has been off for a long time. I’m sitting on my back porch at dawn and life feels pretty good.

“If all of my wishes were granted
And anything I want would come true”

That’s a line from a Keith Whitley tune about love. My intention here is to apply his lyric to anything and everything that comes to mind. A kind of wish list.

Some of my wishes are based on good memories. Some are based on regrets. A few are about things that irritate me because I am old and crabby at times. Some are nostalgic. All of them are serious.

I’ll start with an easy one.

I wish I could wake up to the smell of bacon every morning. I hate electronic beeps that pierce holes in my sleepy brain. There should be an alarm clock that wakes you to the aroma of bacon. I can remember lying in my bed at 12-years-old. Mama had already opened my bedroom door without saying a word. I could hear the sounds of pans and pots and spoons stirring. But it was the smell of bacon that got me up.

I wish child-proof bottle caps were not a thing. They make me feel stupid sometimes.

Along that same line, I wish the guy who invented modern retail plastic packaging would apologize to the world. I cannot for the life of me understand why someone decided that we needed to put something like an ink pen inside a plastic package tough enough to withstand a thermo-nuclear attack.

Seriously. I bought a package of ratchet straps the other day. The guy at the check out counter says to me, “You gotta want to use those pretty bad to get them out. They seal ‘em up tight.”

I set the package up on my work bench. I tugged with useless abandon. I tore a ligament in my right arm. I got out my pocketknife. Next, the box cutter. Wire cutters. Hacksaw. In the end I soaked it with gasoline and set the whole thing on fire. I decided I didn’t want to use them that badly.

I wish the HOT sign at Krispy Kreme would always be on whenever I drive by. And I wish the same thing about donuts as I do about ice cream.

I wish that I could talk to my dad. Hear his voice. See his eyes. I’d be a lot more aware of how brief life can be.

I wish that I could play shortstop again and be quick and nimble. I’d like to camp out in a pup tent at Glenn Mitchell’s lake and run through the night playing fox and hound just beyond the glow of the campfire. One of these days I’m gonna spend an entire Saturday in the woods with a hatchet and some bailing twine just to build a fort out of pine branches.

I wish that I could visit myself 40 years ago. I’d tell me not to be short-sighted. Look beyond the immediate. I’d remind myself that life works out to be full of experiences that are Intended for my own good.

I wish that I had been more committed to piano lessons.

I wish that vegetables could taste like hamburger cooked over a campfire.

I wish I had known that fishing lures can double as tub toys. This is true, and I just recently discovered this. Remove the hooks, of course. Crank baits. Rubber worms. Plastic lizards and shrimps. Lures in all shapes and sizes. Try it with your grandkids. You’ll thank me later.

I wish that I had a bottle of St. Joseph’s Aspirin, orange flavored. I used to fake being sick just so I could eat one.

Once my list began to thin out, I developed a research strategy to explore the “wish list” a little more. This means I asked the only two people sitting near enough to pester for help with my story. I asked them what they would wish for.

Marion pondered for a moment. “I wish I could live a simple life.”

That’s not bad.

“I’d like to lie on my bed,” she said, “and read Trixie Belden books all day long.”

She’s such a nerd.

“Trixie, who?”

Long pouty face.

Never mind.

But I do like simplicity. I agree with her wish.

What we really want is an uncluttered life. No complicated obligations. There are days when we’d be better off without all of our busyness. No electronic devices. A long visit with family or a good neighbor. I’m not saying we get rid of indoor plumbing. I’m just saying simple is good for us.

And before you start in on me about pie in the sky ideas, know this. Some wishes are no farther away than a simple change, or just the slightest effort to be or do something different with our lives. It can be that easy.

Zelda was less contemplative. “I wish I could have a million cats.”

See there. Wishes should not be wasted on 9-year-olds.

A million dogs would be way better.