Advice from an 80 year old. I think a lot about getting older and I realize that our time truly has become finite. The loss of many special friends, family and acquaintances makes me realize that
I am standing in the front lines, the next to go in the family. I still have an older brother which gives a slight protected feeling,
but time becomes more precious every day. At 40 I never thought of stepping out, looking up and giving thanks, but at 80 I do that a
lot. It's a good way to start the day.

Determined not to leave a messy world behind, we recently did a huge garage remodel, and it's now my favorite place to be. As I drive in, there is "a place for everything and everything in its place" and am now determined to make the rest of the house live up to that
marvelous serene feeling when I enter that garage and know that all
is right with our world. So, that's my new mantra for this New Year,
and I know it will keep me well occupied - happily so - for all spare
minutes ahead.

In the grand ambition of clearing out files, memorabilia, etc., my
one word to you 40 year olds is LABEL YOUR PHOTOS, names and dates please. Do it as you go along and you won't wonder who the pretty curly haired red head on your son's lap was? Should I send him the photo, upset his wife, or let it pass?

Reading old letters - letters, not emails - is a true joy that probably none of you will have, so occasionally sit down and write an
update on activities to someone in the family. Our funny Econ
professor once sent a girlfriend's photo to his little brother telling him how to make money by charging curious Mom for a peek, or
$1.50 more for a detailed look. How much fun was that to find among the trash!

A canned email was recently sent by a friend who never commits that crime, but it was on the strength of sisterhood, familial and
friends. As time goes on old friends become more cherished, and when one of them dies, a bit of you dies too, so cherish, enjoy and share while you can. In the end it will be family and those special
friends who really care.

At age 40, one of our sons had a life threatening accident in which a
boy did die. When that boy's mother held my hand and said that it
"was all right, as she had a perfect relationship with that child"
that statement rocked me back on my heels and sent me out of the
board rooms I was enjoying in community activities, and back to the
home front where time matters more. I wanted to be able to say that about each of our own children.

As proof of time well spent with drip castles, I'm sharing a funny
tribute from a son for an 80th birthday book his family did.

"Each summer, we would go to swim lessons, followed by lunch in front of Cabana 19, and then a 30 minute wait until we could go in the ocean for fear we would get stomach cramps. To this day I don't know of anyone who has gotten stomach cramps from going into the ocean too soon after eating, but I secretly enjoyed the mandatory wait, sifting the warm fine sand through my fingers, listening to the easy conversation between my Herman, Lorraine, and mom. After some time in the ocean I would go back to the cabana and get mom to make drip castles. She always said "yes". It never crossed my mind that she wouldn't be thrilled to go.

Now that I have kids of my own, I know that these routines don't just happen. They take time and energy that could have been used on someone else. That they weren't is something I am grateful for.
That I wasn't even aware that I had anything to be grateful about
(for a long time) is testament to the ease and grace with which mom
went about what I now realize is the long and hard business of
raising a family. For the avocado sandwiches (almost every day
during high school) to hosting afternoon basketball games and post
surfing steak sandwiches, and for the thousand carpool miles, thank
you. I know that I would have turned out very differently."

That's too long for my tombstone, but I couldn't ask for a better
tribute.