Some years ago, my family gathered in the North Carolina mountains for a Reunion.  Great excitement.  We enjoy each other’s company.  When the hugs and telling each other how wonderful we looked were over, I made an announcement to the Clan.

Here are the rules of the Reunion said the spoiler.  “There will be no talking about aches and pains, operations, creaky knees or medical appointments.”   Shock.  My brother Jim said …What are we going to talk about?’  We all laughed.

We agreed that with age – along with the promised wisdom - come less-welcome reminders the clock is ticking.  How will we handle the reminders? A question worthy of serious family discussion.

In this morning’s New York Times, a columnist offers an observation on aging.   His words are more elegant.  His conclusion mirrors what we decided would be our family watchword going forward.  He says: I can be sad and angry about time’s toll, and rue what has been lost. Or I can work with what remains.

It was a memorable Reunion.  Our numbers have dwindled.  Our promise to ourselves and each other has stayed intact.   Work with what remains.

# # #

Why do we celebrate December 31st and welcome January 1st?  Until today I had no idea.  It’s just a tradition.  Something we’ve always done.  Still, I wondered, how did this tradition get started?  I had to know.  Google to the rescue.

Turns out it began centuries ago.  The Romans began the tradition by honoring the god Janus; who had two faces – one looking to the past, the other to the future. Janus was their god of beginnings.

They chose January 1st because the Julian calendar (45BC) and later the Gregorian calendar (1582) solidified January 1st as the start of the year.

The day evolved with rituals like setting resolutions, partying, and making noise to ward off the evil spirits.  Sound familiar?

When my friends began asking if we could move the clock forward from 10 to 12 PM and pretend it was midnight I knew it was time to drop the partying and noise.  That leaves resolutions.  I never make New Year’s resolutions.  I make daily resolutions: Today I will get the car washed.  Today I will …

I do honor the tradition of Auld Lang Syne – and sharing a cup of kindness.   

And so, to each of you … may the coming year and those beyond be kind to you.

# # #

Last evening I attended a lovely Holiday gathering.  Not too large. Not too small.

Not too loud. Not too quiet.  Like Momma Bear's porridge it was just right.

What made the evening so special? It was not the food. It was not the

Holiday decorations.  It was not the entertainment.  Although they were good.

The evening was magical because of friends.  Young friends, old friends.  Friends I

hadn't seen in a while. Friends I see often.  Friends I met that very evening.  

Some of us couldn't hear as well. We couldn't move as fast. Our hugs were just as warm. 

The same old stories still caused hearty laughs.

Friends and family, and the reason we celebrate Christmas, is what makes this time of year magical. 

They are the reason for being.  They are our past, our present, and our future.

And so - To my amazing family, my 'now' friends, and those I have yet to meet  ...

I wish you Peace, Love, and Friendship this year, and in years to come.

# # #

When I was leaving my home in England for a life in the USA, the family gathered for their goodbyes, their tears, and being family - their advice.

My Irish father said only three words, in Gaelic.  He said 'Don't be afraid.'  I was 19 years old. Like most 19 year olds the words were lost in the rain.  All except  'don't be afraid.'

Dad could have said, take care of yourself, be careful.  He didn't.  He said don't be afraid.  He gave me permission to take a chance, ask for help, work hard, try new things, make friends, make a new life. What a gift.

Times have changed for our young people. It's more difficult now.  Still - don't be afraid ...to try, to change, to believe, to share, to ask for help is wise advice. Its a good mantra.  I still use it. Every day.

Thanks, Dad ... you taught us well.

# # # 

Thanksgiving is silently speeding our way. Christmas merchants keep trying to push this Celebration aside.  We can't let that happen.
 

This day of thanks holds our memories of family, fun, food, and secrets.
 

Yesterday I was bemoaning that Chef Google has ruined the joy of receiving Thanksgiving time calls from our now adult offspring.  Mom, how do you make that great dressing?  How does Dad cook his fantastic turkey? Today, I complained, they just ask Chef Google.
 

My son, on the receiving end of my complaining, said ... Well, that's not exactly true.  Chef Google does not know what makes Dad's turkey so delicious. He has no recipe for your famous chew bread.  He'll never know MawMaw's cornbread recipe.  These are family secrets. They'll always be ours.  I never thought of it that way.
 

MawMaw (Robert's mother) would be 132 this year.   She didn't use recipes.  Sixty six years ago; when this same son was an infant, I watched her whip up her amazing cornbread. I came as close as I could to capturing a recipe. Here it is! The secret's out.
 

Recently I read that what you keep dies with you.  What you share lives on.  Thanks MawMawZ for sharing.
 

# # #  

Last evening I attended the American Cancer Society's Annual Charlotte Gala.  

A fundraiser - yes.  Also a friend raiser, a hope giver, and an opportunity to show we care. 

The stories were moving.  The statistics scary.  The hope alive and well.  

Above all else, what we heard and saw was caring.  People caring about people.

People of all ages caring about our future.  People digging deep - some into shallow pockets,

others into grateful pockets.  No one knew their names - they were just a paddle number that cared. 

What happened as caring number one grew to two, then three, then one hundred and three?

The answer is that hope wanting to make a difference and realizing we can is contagious. 

We just need those special people brave enough to raise the first paddle, and say 'I care.'

Thanks to all the anonymous caring numbers. 

Because of you I left the Gala feeling hopeful about our future.

# # #

Recently I was invited to meet with several amazing young women. They forewarned, it was to ask advice about a challenge they were facing.

I was honored, of course.

Generations set us apart.  I asked myself - How could my thoughts possibly be helpful today?  

I presented this question to my, son who responded - 

Remember Robert Frost's quote: The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.  

After a few minutes mulling over how he got to be so smart I turned to more mulling. This time about we 'afternoon' people.  

Why should we think what we know is not worth sharing? Surely we've learned knowledge is useless unless it is shared.

Why should we stop taking on challenges because we grow old. 

Fact is, we grow old because we stop taking on challenges. 

Talking about pay telephones is not useful, but it's fun. We need fun.  Suggesting words to use in difficult situations. Invaluable. And not taught in schools.  We need guidance.

When sharing  thoughts from the archives I keep in mind Kenny Rogers words: Know when to hold. Know when to fold.  Translated to Know what to share.  Know what to spare.  It seems to work.

Here's to more shared mornings and afternoons.  We can learn a lot from each other.

# # #

Today, determined to downsize my hoard of books, I set about this difficult task.  I plead guilty of being easily distracted. 

All went smoothly with the DIY shelf. My sons will confirm, I rarely read instructions, much less DIY books.  Most are still pristine. Out they go.

The same with cook books.  I never follow recipes.  My recipe is what do I have handy? The meal results are definitely mixed. The Barefoot Contessa would be proud.

Money and investment books.  I scanned Tyler Cowen's  Create Your Own Economy.  It begins by telling me the physical design of the IPod is compelling.  My bookmark is stuck in page seven. I can part with this.

The box is filling up.

And then - the distraction: Books I've received as gifts. Books as a gift, unless you know the recipient well, or the title was requested, is chancy.   My friends seem to know me well.  I had to read every message.  Recall each individual.  Thumb prints and spilled coffee adorn many pages.

It was a glorious afternoon.  Thanks to all the book givers, readers, and authors. You make life more interesting.

# # # 

Years ago Robert and I were at a major event in the UK.  We were identified as International guests by large ribbons

pinned to our jackets. A youngster approached us - looking at this spectacle with big eyes - and asked 'Are you somebody?'

Our response was, well we hope so - everybody is somebody you know.  Our inquisitive young friend responded 'Oh, am I

somebody?'  Her name, we discovered, was Marlene.  Oh yes, we assured her. You are Marlene - a very important somebody.

It was a fun exchange; but it made us think.  Why do we presume those who are bedecked with crowns, titles, wealth,

and ribbons are more special, more important somebodies, than we are?  

Our family's early lessons included: Always remember you are just as good as, but no better than, anyone else you meet. 

It didn't include richer than, poorer than, smarter than. It was: Don't over or underestimate yourself.

Out of the mouths of babes and curious youngsters.

# # # 

My grandniece, who is six years old, and lives in the UK, just returned from a momentous trip to Paris Disneyland.  What made it momentous is that Isabella had a liver transplant when she was 18 months old. 

What makes it even more momentous is that the entire trip for Isabella and her mom was a gift from hundreds of cab drivers, the Lord Mayor of London, Bands, Volunteers – so many whose hearts expanded.  So many who cheered ‘Bravo.’ You can do it.’   This video  along with smiling photos from Isabella brought a happy tear or two.

How did Isabella grow to be a runner, a smart student, a joyous independent youngster? From the time she could talk, she let her family know ‘I can do it myself.’  She lined up, in perfect order, her required medications; she took setbacks calmly – no fussing please. She spoke to her pre-school class about her medical adventures. She was in charge of herself.

We have a success story here because her smart family allowed her to do it herself.  Her parents watched closely.  She wasn’t always successful.  She kept trying.  

Isabella has taught me that if I am tempted, which is often, to jump in when a child or adult says ‘I can do it myself.’  Stand back.  Thanks Isabella. 

And the winner is ISABELLA