I celebrated a birthday last week, and I’m sorry to say that I didn’t approach it with the best attitude. If the 35th anniversary of my birth had been a doorway, then I probably would have sidestepped through it, all the while looking longingly over my shoulder at the wonderful world I was leaving behind on the other side. 

But I came to my senses just in time — thanks to a few encounters in the days leading up to the big celebration. I learned that each birthday is like a park bench along the path of life, providing a nice quiet space to sit, gaze out upon our past, present, and imagined future, and soak in the beauty of those people and places that give meaning to our lives.

A friend of mine turned 96 years old just two days before my own birthday. Although I didn’t actually see Gracie on her big day, I have a feeling that she probably wore her favorite matching red beret and scarf. Gracie doesn’t sidestep through birthdays. She may do her fair share of reminiscing, but I don’t think that she ever wishes to be in any place or time other than where she is. Instead of trepidation, she approached her 96th birthday with a sense of gratitude and lightheartedness. 

The day before I blew out the candles, I conducted a life-story interview of a 75-year-old woman with four grown children and a number of grandchildren. When I asked her to recall the best day of her life so far, she took me back less than five years. She had led a rich, joy-filled life, but her best years are right now.

The morning of my birthday rolled around, and I was talking with my mother-in-law about a recent dinner party that she and my father-in-law had attended with some of their closest friends. Apparently, the dinner conversation digressed to roaring laughter about the number gravity was doing on their faces and bodies. They joked that within a few years, they’d have to rely on voice recognition to identify each other due to their drooping eyelids. But they all agreed that it was a really good thing that they were all going through the sometimes cruel process of aging — together.

That same night, I celebrated my birthday at an elegant restaurant in upstate New York with my husband of 11 years, my best friend of 15 years, and her husband, who feels more like a brother-in-law than anything else.

When we threw all caution to the wind and ordered two bottles of wine, I suddenly realized that we were not only celebrating my life — we were toasting our separate, yet shared journeys.  How could we possibly mourn the times left behind when we were traveling with such great company? 

My mom called as we were just finishing dinner. She greeted me with, “Parent Patrol. It’s 10 p.m. Do you know where your children are?” I did. Mine were safe at home in their warm beds, while my mom’s oldest daughter was sitting in a candlelit restaurant feeling the warmth of friendship and love embracing her. 

As my cell phone snapped closed, I was filled with a deep sense of gratitude for the people in my life. My friends. My family. And those who may just be passing through but leave golden nuggets of wisdom in their trail.

May we all learn to be a little less cynical when it comes to our birthdays — and a lot more joyful. There is much to celebrate.

When Gracie and her husband returned from their honeymoon in the early 1930s, the newlyweds moved into a two-bedroom apartment. They slept in one room, and Gracie’s mother occupied the other. She lived with them until she passed away at the age of 85.

I am a Gen X’er. In my world, people get married, move into their own place, then retire, and often move again. As Gracie has explained to me, though, it’s only fairly recently that Americans have had the luxury of retirement and independent living.

When she was growing up, retirement homes didn’t exist. If you could no longer live on your own and had the financial resources, then maybe you would move into a nursing home. But not likely. Chances are — you’d move in with your children or any relatives that would take you.

In Gracie’s mother’s case, she was a widow. She received a small stipend from the government to care for Gracie. But once Gracie got married, that monthly income disappeared. Having no way of supporting herself, she became part of her daughter’s new household.

We have moved so far away from this mindset today, it’s hard to believe that we’re only talking about a gap of 70 years or so. Our expectations are out of control, in comparison. The fancy wedding, the house, the car, the entertainment system, the bulging 401K. Where do I begin?

Gracie’s wedding reception was held in her mother’s living room, her honeymoon was at the family cottage in western New Jersey, and she wore one maternity dress throughout her entire first pregnancy.

Every day across the country, people are losing the lovely 3,000-square-foot Colonials that were unheard of just 50 years ago. Our SUVs are being repossessed. And our retirement savings are dwindling quickly.

There’s a lot of talk, of course, about how Americans are having to “size down” their lives in order to adjust to the new norm. But the way I see it, we need an entirely new skill set.

It’s going to take more than just doing without a few extras. We have to lower our expectations — and that’s not such a bad thing.

But how do we even begin?

It might do us some good to take a cue from the remaining members of Gracie’s generation. They’re the ones who know what it means to live simply and earnestly. They did it for a long, long time. And from what I can tell, they were pretty happy folks.

“You can be bigger socially than you have ever been in your life. That’s sure. (But) you can’t grow socially unless you help others grow also.”

Wiliam H. Danforth, 1931

During those first few years of motherhood, my social circle grew immensely. I suddenly found myself reaching out and connecting with women like never before.

My formerly introverted self was now carrying around a pen and paper for chance phone number exchanges and then actually calling to set up “play dates” (for our then 3-month-olds.)

Those friendships that developed during the early days of motherhood are still incredibly precious and sustaining to me. But I recently realized – as my energies began zeroing in on my own rekindled career objectives – that my “rolodex,” so to speak, was comprised completely of women between the ages of 32 and 42 with two to three kids each and a husband.

It had never occurred to me that this was a problem. In fact, I would have gone merrily along my way had I not been forced by my business objectives to break out of my mold and meet new people. And wow! — I was shocked at how great it felt!

As I move throughout my days now, getting together with people from so many different walks of life, ages, and backgrounds … I feel a tremendous energy that I haven’t felt in years. It’s a kind of social energy, I guess. And I had no idea that it was missing in my life – until now.

I’ve joined a local networking group, as well as another association related to my line of work, and I’m getting ready to add one more women-in-business organization to my list.

Someone made a comment at one of these meetings recently that none of us would be there (at the meeting) unless we were solely motivated by the need or desire to grow our business. Well, I have news for that person.

I may be out to lunch on this one, but I like to think that we’re also there to help each other grow. I know that I am.

Nothing feels better than to help someone else achieve their goals, whether they’re professional or personal pursuits. It doesn’t matter. In the end, it’s really all personal, anyway. We’re all people – with hopes and passions and dreams.

What a great moment it is when we break out of our narrow mindset long enough to fully appreciate those heartfelt aspirations in another person. To me, that is the “social energy” that makes all things in life and business possible.

And when that can happen, the experience of being part of a business group or a social network or whatever you want to call it is so much more fulfilling than being holed up in your office or kitchen, for that matter, alone with your thoughts and ideas.

Gracie has had in her mind for weeks now that I should learn to crochet. Every time I see her, she asks, “Have you gotten your needle yet?” The answer is always, “Not yet!”

I honestly have had no interest in it. In fact, I really just hoped that she would eventually stop asking and leave me pleasantly in the dark as to how to make cute little trivets and baby-doll sweaters. I enjoy looking at other people’s creations in the craft tent at the county fair. But I’ve never once entertained the thought of making my own.

Well, she cornered me on Wednesday. Although Gracie is the most gentle, loving woman you may ever meet, she also has a feisty spark in her that I’ve seen come out from time to time.

Gracie is as determined as she is sweet. And she was not going to let me go home on Wednesday before I learned a thing or two about crocheting.

So we sat down together on her little couch, with the light over my left shoulder so as not to cast a shadow. And Gracie demonstrated remarkable patience as she walked me through four rows of crochet. At the end of every row, she would praise my progress and throw in a few extra pointers.

After the first ten minutes of pure frustration, I really started to get in the groove. And I loved it. I think that I could have sat there all night, shoulder to shoulder with Gracie on the couch, if my kids hadn’t been running in circles around her little apartment. It was so peaceful, just chatting and stitching, chatting and stitching.

I could envision our foremothers sitting around the fire in the evenings after dinner, sewing in the candlelight and sharing the latest town gossip. What a relaxing way to end the day.

My initial reluctance to learn to crochet was really just my lack of imagination. I could not envision just sitting around doing something so seemingly unproductive. Sure, I would be making something. But I could be doing so many other things — and even several tasks at once. To sit and be completely focused on a needle and yarn. Truly unthinkable.

But on my second row of crochet, I realized that this was what I – and so many other women I know – probably need most of all. A quiet, rhythmic task that is also a craft. You can talk and maybe listen to a television program, but you can’t do much else when you’re crocheting (or knitting or sewing). It is what it is.

We had to leave. The kids were climbing the walls. But I left there a woman with a changed mind. Maybe I’ll hit up the sewing store, after all, to get my own #1 needle.

Before I know it, I may be selling trivets at the local church fair. You just never know.

“Wealth, notoriety, place, and power are no measure of success whatsoever. The only true measure of success is the ratio between what we might have done and what we might have been on the one hand, and the thing we have made and the thing we have made of ourselves on the other.”

H.G. Wells (1866 – 1946)

This fall, I began the process of growing and expanding Fourfold Press – my writing and editorial services business.

In the beginning, I approached this new challenge with a tremendous amount of energy. I remember working on the final touches of my website until the wee hours of the morning.

But it didn’t take long before I began to experience brief bouts of doubt. I would find myself thinking about all of the possible roadblocks to my success instead of scheming ways around them.

It suddenly hit me one day that there always will be a limitless supply of commentary (whether it comes from our own minds or the mouths of others) as to why something might fail.

But who wants to hang around with Fear and Uncertainty all of the time? Those guys are great companions if you want to stay frozen in place for the rest of your days.

I decided that, for me, the greatest travesty would be to hole up in my comfort zone and never demand anything greater of myself.

We may not get it right the first time, but so what? At least we’re making headway. The business plan that I wrote in the fall, for example, is not the same business plan that I’m following today. It changed because I realized that I had chosen the wrong path (or just not the best one) to get to my destination.

We adapt. We choose a new direction. But we keep moving forward.

The most devastating loss would be to realize at the end of the day that we had talents and passions that we never tapped. For me, this thought is one of my greatest motivators.

“Remember, courage is not the absence of fear, it is the conquest of it. Not until you dare to attack will you master your fears.”

William H. Danforth, 1931

It’s never easy to make a change. Status quo is like a big, fat easy-chair next to a roaring fire. It’s what we know. It’s comfortable.

But after awhile, even the cushiest chair leaves us stiff and achy. Our limbs beg to be stretched. And we yearn to see and experience more.

It’s time to get up and move on to the next thing.

I’ve spoken with a number of friends lately who are at a crossroads between the way life has been since they had their first child half a decade ago and this new stage of motherhood that involves parent-teacher conferences, drop-off birthday parties, and ballet recitals.

In many ways, our children need us more than ever. But it’s a different kind of need than that of a newborn or toddler. I guess we’re all just becoming a little bit more independent — kids and parents, alike.

In my circle of “post-toddlerhood” mothers, most of us seem to be feeling the need to redefine ourselves and branch out into new roles and responsibilities extending beyond the sweet little family that we continue to love and nurture.

We may not always know what the next road will look like, and we may even question whether or not we’re up to the task. But we’re feeling something stir within.

The funny thing is – it doesn’t seem to matter whether we took time off to stay home or continued in our jobs after starting a family. We’ve got the itch to DO something – different.

It may take months or even years to figure out what that something is. But I think that as long as we’re listening intently to that inner voice — it will come.

And then, the next step involves that thing called, “courage.”

When I think back to life before becoming a parent, I have faint memories of sitting on the couch sipping a glass of wine with my husband on a Friday night and feeling truly relaxed and mentally “empty.”

I’ve had many, many wonderful evenings since my son was born over five years ago, but it’s so much harder to unwind these days. In fact, I sometimes wonder whether I will ever be able to regain that pre-parenthood ability to just shut-down at the end of a day.

Maybe that’s because the day never really ends. It just progresses into a night-shift that then morphs into another day eight hours later.

But as parents, we need to learn how to relax again. And not just on summer vacation at the beach. We have to find a way to push mental pause — regularly.

This is a personal struggle for me. My mental tape-recorder seems to be stuck on play.

But I’ve decided to cut myself some slack. I’m not going to become “Miss Relaxed” overnight. Baby steps are better than no steps at all, I figure.

For now, I’m just trying to carve out the last 15 or 20 minutes of the day for mental relaxation. If I’m lucky, I might even get an hour in the bath. But 15 minutes will do.

Every night before turning off the light – no matter how late it might be – I’ve been making a point of reading something humorous or inspirational.

I keep a couple of uplifting books on my night stand (Erma Bombeck is great … or even a Deepak Chopra-type read), and I open one up to a random page and soak in a paragraph or two. If something makes me laugh or smile, then jackpot! I’ve hit gold.

Then I can close the book and enjoy the sweet sensation of a “lightened” head hitting the pillow.

It’s a start.

“Strive to crowd out of your life unworthy thoughts, unworthy acts, unworthy contacts. Just see what happens if, for a solid week, you fill your life only with the best! — the very best in literature, the very best in art, the very best in nature.”

William H. Danforth, 1931

I have a close friend, Melissa, who is a master of bringing beauty into her life. She turns everyday activities into ceremonious occasions.

I’ve learned a lot from her about filling my life with quality moments and experiences. So I thought I’d pass along a few of her tricks:

Light a Candle

Melissa is a little obsessive about candles. We used to share an apartment years ago, and I remember always feeling nervous that she was going to eventually burn down the place.

These mini-torches hung from the walls, were perched precariously on windowsills, and adorned every flat space (coffee tables, end-tables, vanities) in our little abode. Candles were lit for dinner, for after-dinner tea, for quiet nighttime conversation ….

As much as I might have fretted about their safety, they truly turned an ordinary moment into something quite extraordinary.

One night, we watched together as a neighboring apartment building burned to the ground as a result of a forgotten candle. I thought that this experience might have toned down her own candle-burning habit.

But even today, when I visit her and her growing little family, our moments together are bathed in candlelight. Her three young children have probably never eaten a meal under artificial light.

Put on a Pot of Tea

Being from the south, I grew up with a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge. But I had never experienced a cup of hot tea until I met Melissa. Since then, I’ve found that most New Englanders drink their fair share of tea, but Melissa’s family drinks more than most.

They put a pot of water on to boil the moment a guest enters the house. In fact, you would never seriously try to have a conversation in their house without a nice cup of hot tea to cradle in your hands.

Plan Your Meals

I’ve spent a lot of time with Melissa and her family over the years, and I can’t remember a time when she has ever said, “Let’s just throw in a frozen pizza.”

She’s an artist. And maybe that explains why she always takes the time to visualize the way a meal will unfold before it happens. It very well may be simple — fresh bread, cheese, dilly beans, and a salad — but it’s never an afterthought.

She says, “What shall we have for dinner?” with a spark in her eye — and you know that no matter what might follow, it’s going to be some kind of culinary occasion.

Slow Down, and Be in the Moment

Although I come from a family where “rushing to the next thing” is part of our genetic code, I have never felt the need to hurry when I’m with Melissa.

She just doesn’t rush. Moments linger. Pots of coffee continue to refill themselves. We may stay in our pajamas until mid-morning. And it just doesn’t matter.

She is a master of being in the present – completely devoted to what we’re experiencing right now … A cup of hot coffee and a meaningful conversation. Why would we need to exchange this moment for a different one?

Choose Your Day

I love spending a full day with Melissa because they are always so well balanced and full. Over breakfast, she’ll say, “So what should we do today?”

And even if there are things that just have to be done — like work, errands, or house chores — she somehow finds time to weave something really great into the day. Maybe we’ll walk into town for breakfast, or we might make a picnic dinner to enjoy by the water. Or sometimes, the entire day will become a series of fun, meaningful experiences.

And it’s all because she loves embracing the possibilities that each day offers — as it begins.

My mom and I decided that it might be nice to make some candies and cookies around the holidays to deliver to some of Gracie’s neighbors. From what I can tell, many of the residents in her apartment building are shut-ins (or close to it) and spend their days quite alone.

We asked Gracie to come up with a list of five or six people who would enjoy a surprise visit. She never does anything halfway. The list that she put together included not only names but a description of each person — any disabilities, approximate age, and interests.

When we arrived at Gracie’s apartment on delivery day, she was festively dressed in a red beret, holiday sweater, and silver silk pants. In typical Gracie fashion, she turned this simple outing into an occasion.

With Gracie’s detailed guide in hand, we followed this sprightly little lady as she walked with a sense of confidence and determination through the halls of her building, cane in hand. She would arrive at someone’s door, knock her distinct rat-a-tat-tat, and they would always answer.

I got the feeling that she must make social calls fairly often. No one seemed surprised to see her standing on their doorstep.

It was a lovely way to spend a couple of hours the week before Christmas. I think that Gracie’s neighbors really appreciated our visit.

But here’s the thing that stuck with me ….. While we (like so many others who suddenly appear on the threshold of strangers’ doors around Christmas) will likely disappear from their lives until next December, Gracie will be sticking around.

The sense of social responsibility that she feels is not contained to one particular season. On a daily basis, it propels her out of the comfort of her cozy apartment and into the lives of strangers — turning them into her friends.

That day and for days after, I kept thinking about how much she gives of herself to others.

She doesn’t need to extend her social circle. She has so many friends and family members to fill her days. But she is constantly reaching out to embrace those around her (even if she has to hunt them down). Gracie makes an effort to know each person who crosses her path in an intimate, meaningful way — a basic human need that we so often neglect in our busy, fast-paced lives.

I think that being “open” just comes naturally to her. But I also think that it’s something we all can and should work towards – one day and one person at a time.

“There is no secret to good health other than just plain, good common sense.”

William H. Danforth (1870-1956)

The winter cold and flu season is upon us. Since the beginning of November, every member of our family has taken turns nursing a runny nose, infected sinuses, or a hacking cough.

As I drink gallons of herbal tea and tote around wads of tissue paper in my coat pockets, I think about how nice it is to be healthy …. and how much I will appreciate the energy and zest that will one day return to me once I can stop blowing my nose.

But, in the meantime, I can’t help wondering, “Could I have prevented all of this by taking better care of myself?” Quite possibly. Every winter seems to bring the same health and wellness pitfalls.

When the readily-available fresh fruits and vegetables of summer become less and less … well, readily available, my diet suddenly takes a huge hit in vitamins A & C. I also tend to drink much less water in the cold season, trending more towards hot chocolate, tea, and yes, a little too much coffee. And during the variable weather of early winter, I am more apt to fill my exercise quota indoors, which consequently cuts my exposure to fresh air down quite a bit. Another culprit is the late nights, where I find myself sitting here at the computer long past a healthy bedtime.

I am making a slightly tardy New Year’s resolution to try and do better – for myself, and also for my family.

We definitely run a pretty tight ship when it comes to good lifestyle habits in our house, but it’s the little things that are easy to let slide. And those are the things that seem to add up on the sly (like an excess of sugar over the holidays and too much caffeine during a busy work week).

We may not be able to completely dodge cold and flu season. But we can at least put up a good defense – with a balanced diet, fresh air and exercise, and a good night’s sleep.