In need of a break, I took the day off from work to spend at the beach. It was late October, still warm enough to enjoy the Florida sun without the summer crowds. In fact, the beach was deserted. Book in hand, I walked to a quiet spot and settled into my little beach chair, my toes just touching the shallow waves. I was alone.

From the distance, a single pelican glided into view, dipped its wings and landed in the water, not 20 yards from me. She barely bobbed in the surf, slowly rotating until facing me, and then stopped turning – and just stared in my direction.

I stared back.

We both sat on the empty beach, both perfectly still, simply looking at each other. Pelicans have little eyes, but I could see hers clearly, and she was looking straight back into mine. No doubt, she was calm and relaxed.

Only later did I realize that my body had begun to relax, too. I had stopped thinking about everything – my breathing had steadied, my mind was calm. Gazing steadily into the bird’s eyes for what seemed like minutes, all my thoughts had dissolved away. Eventually, my little friend slowly took flight and disappeared, but not before leaving me tranquil.

Only much later did I realize I had stumbled into some form of focal point meditation, with my entire focus centered on the eyes of a pelican.

To this day, when the stresses of everyday life threaten to overwhelm me, I allow my thoughts to drift back to that quiet spot on my empty beach, where I find myself sitting in my little lawn chair, the waves rolling into the sand. I’m sure my eyes gloss over a bit, because while I’m physically present in one place, my inner eye is somewhere else, seeing only calm – and then peace fills me because I’m once again staring into the gentle, quiet eyes of a pelican….

If your only goal in attending college is to land a high-paying job, or if you’re confident you can be successful in life without attending, then I understand why skipping college is an attractive option.

In fact, a wealthy California man is now awarding fellowships worth $100,000 each to 24 young people if they skip college for at least two years and instead spend the time chasing their entrepreneurial dreams. The recipients were selected based on their potential to make major contributions to society without going to college, much like Mark Zuckerberg, who dropped out of Harvard to grow Facebook.com.

The millionaire offering the $100,000 fellowships is Peter Thiel, who made his fortune by co-founding the online payment service PayPal (after graduating from Stanford Law School).

Thiel’s idea continues a theme which has been building for several years: some high school graduates want to pass on formal higher education and jump right into the working world to make their mark.

While I love the idea of giving young people the means to pursue their dreams, particularly those with great ideas and an entrepreneurial spirit, college is more than a means to land a good job. It can help you prepare for life’s challenges.

Most of what I learned in college came from outside the classroom: the discussions in the dorm and student organizations; the debates while out with friends; the exposure to ideas different from my own; the ability to create and grow relationships, resolve conflicts and solve problems; the opportunity to meet and make friends with people whose cultural, ethnic and religious backgrounds were different from mine.

Of course, the classroom work was valuable, too, particularly learning critical thinking skills which continue to serve me well both personally and professionally.

I don’t think college is for everyone. And many people, including Mark Zuckerberg, achieve great success without finishing college, among them Mary Kay Ash (of Mary Kay cosmetics), Michael Dell (founder of Dell computers), former ABC News Anchor Peter Jennings, film director Steve Spielberg, and software mogul Bill Gates.

But if you’re not the next Steven Spielberg or Bill Gates – and most of us are not – I wouldn’t pass on higher education. College can be so much more than just a ticket to a good job….

To a large degree, this philosophy has served me well. (Fate favors those who know what comes next.)

Still, I’ve learned that living life to its fullest requires taking some risks. The common touchstones of life — getting married, having children, changing jobs, buying a home – do not come with guarantees. It would be safest to live life alone in a cave, but that’s not much of a life.

Years ago, I stumbled upon a television show featuring interviews with dozens of people who were all at least 80 years old. Each person was asked: “Now that you are in the sunset of your life, what are your biggest regrets?”

The answers surprised me. Person after person – all octogenarians – said their biggest regrets were not things they had done, but things they had not done… the risks never taken. One guy still remembered the girl he never asked to the high school dance, another woman reflected sadly on the career she never pursued. Rarely did anyone say “I regret something I did earlier in life.” Most admitted to making a lot of mistakes, but time allowed those decisions to be seen in a new light: life lessons they otherwise never would have learned. By taking the risk and failing, they grew.

The thought reminds me of an old saying: “If you’re not failing at some things, you’re not risking enough.”

Of course, some people live life on the opposite side of the spectrum. They live recklessly and never reach the age of 80, or 50 (or even 20). But if you live too cautiously, will you reflect on a life full of regrets?  

Over time, I’ve learned that one key to a happy life is to strike a balance in essentially all things, including the amount risk in your life.

My hope is to lead my life to reach at least the age of 80, and then if someone asks “What are your regrets, old man?”, I want to say with conviction: “I have none.”

It’s a decision some parents face. They must consider giving birth to a so called healthy “savior sibling” to harvest the baby’s stem cells to transplant into the sick child. In such cases, parents themselves are unsuitable donors, as are nonrelatives. Only a sibling who has genetically identical tissue can donate the cells. Without the cells – such as those drawn from umbilical cord blood of a healthy baby – the first child will die.

The decision, of course, raises all sorts of ethical questions, from the rights of children to the role of reproductive technology and government regulation in stem cell research and genetic testing.

According to the Minneapolis – St Paul (MN) Star Tribune, the parents of Molly Nash, six years old in 2000, faced this very scenario. Molly was born with Fanconi Anemia, a rare blood disorder that almost always results in leukemia by the age of 10, and likely death without treatment. The only solution was a bone marrow transplant, with the need of donor marrow from a sibling who has genetically identical tissue.

The Nashes hadn’t planned on having more children until a doctor specializing in bone marrow transplantation made a suggestion. They could use in-vitro fertilization (IVF) to produce several embryos, then genetically test all of them for the right match. They would choose a suitable embryo for their baby, and use the infant’s umbilical cord blood as a source of new bone marrow for Molly. The parents agreed to the process, and it worked. Six weeks after her brother Adam was born, Molly got her transplant. Now 16, Molly recently celebrated the 10^th anniversary of her transplant, the first of its kind. Without the treatment, she surely would have died.

Two of the biggest issues surrounding such cases are 1) the ethics of creating a child for the primary or sole purpose of saving another; and 2) the decision to use genetic screening to select a child for a trait that would benefit someone else.

Since Molly’s brother was born, dozens of children have been saved using the same or similar procedure used for her. My guess is as medical technology grows more sophisticated, more parents will turn to this option. Admittedly, it is a slippery slope: some parents are interested in this technology not to save a child, but to make a “designer” baby with certain characteristics, such as a specific eye or hair color. For this reason, a number of critics and doctors have called for government and professional oversight of reproductive technology. However, onerous government interference could cost the lives of children like Molly.  

If my family faced these questions, I already know the answer. My 8-year-old daughter is an only child and the light of my life. I can’t imagine not doing anything and everything possible to save her if she were sick, including having another child I hadn’t otherwise planned. I would have a second baby to save my first.

For a terrific true account of this very issue, read Saving Henry: A Mother’s Journey by Laurie Strongin. She and her family did everything they could to save her remarkable young son, stricken with Fanconi Anemia. By the way, if you don’t believe it ethical to combine in vitro fertilization with genetic testing to produce a healthy donor baby to save a dying child, please read Strongin’s story before carving that opinion in stone.

Last week, only three months before my 10^th wedding anniversary, I lost my platinum wedding ring on a golf course.

In a bit of a panic, I rushed to the pro shop and asked the maintenance crew to keep an eye out for it. It was a long shot. I had no idea where I’d lost my ring: it could be anywhere on the 200 acres of rolling grass, ponds and trees covering the 18-hole course. Even if someone found it, would they turn it in?

I never should have lost the ring, but it had been a particularly hot and humid day, and nervous about the ring slipping off my finger while I played – it also interferes with my golf grip – I placed it in a pants pocket to keep it “safe”. It was a careless mistake, as the ring obviously fell out during my round to become a needle in haystack.

The first question my playing partner asked: “Are you going to tell your wife today? You could wait a couple of days, hope for a miracle that somebody finds it, and she’d never be the wiser.”

I knew, though, that I would tell her right away. While the ring could turn up quickly, I didn’t like the idea of keeping something so personal from her. I told her as soon as got I got home. My wife was disappointed…. and accepting that I’d likely never see that ring again.

Two days later, the golf course called. Someone had found my ring. A golfer just happened to glance down at the right time to see something glint in the sun, and he turned it in. It’s now back on my finger.

I joked to my wife that because the ring was returned so quickly, I could have gotten away without telling her anything about my ring’s little adventure. Still, I felt better being candid from the beginning, and I think it affirmed for my wife that she married a guy who doesn’t keep many secrets, big or small. Life never seems to tire of teaching me again and again that honesty is indeed the best policy…..

I’m usually focused on some meeting I just had or the household tasks before me: make a phone call, pay the bills, fix something that’s broken. I’m going a hundred miles per hour.

Thankfully, my daughter has other ideas. She always greets me with a big hug. Then she’s ready to tell me about her day, play a game or engage me in some fashion. She’s a real life air brake, and I’ve learned to embrace it.

We sit on the couch and talk, read a book or review her school work. Often, she’s bursting to tell me a story about her day. How we spend the time is unimportant, but I’m going to give her 15 minutes of undivided attention. No cell phone; no newspaper; no checking the mail. Just family time for 15 minutes, then if needed I can race off to tackle the world before circling around to her later in the evening. 

Some weekdays we spend more time together; other days not so much. Regardless, this simple time together means a lot to her — and me. It’s also a remarkable stress reliever: suddenly that crazy project at work isn’t so all-consuming.

The length of time spent with children isn’t always the most important factor. Sometimes, all it takes is 15 minutes….

My mother once told me the story of a young girl she came to know, maybe six or seven years old, raised by her grandmother who lived in a little home in Central Florida. They lived on a fixed income, and money was tight. Occasionally, one of the little girl’s friends would spend the night.

“We don’t have much,” the little girl told my mother, “but we share what we have.”

My mother smiled when she told me that story. She guessed the little girl was repeating what her grandmother had told her.

While my wife and I try to teach our young daughter the importance of sharing, it’s most rewarding to see her learn the joy of generosity on her own.

By age five, our daughter had collected more than 60 stuffed animals and teddy bears. Around Christmastime, I asked if she’d choose one to donate to a needy child. She methodically sorted through all her dolls and teddy bears – she had named each one – but she didn’t like the idea of parting with any of them. I think she was still processing the concept of giving one of her beloved teddy bears to another child.

Eventually, it sank in: she had dozens of dolls; other children had none. After a little more thought, she handed me a brown teddy bear in excellent condition. Shortly after, I overheard her telling my wife she wanted to donate some clothes she had outgrown.

A year later, without any prompting, my daughter decided to sort through her bears and dolls again. This time, she chose more than 20 to give away. She was candid about part of her motivation: she wanted to make room for new dolls and bears. But she was clear that she wanted other children to enjoy her old toys, too. She smiled as she said it, and I knew she had learned one of life’s most rewarding lessons: the joy of giving.

Before I became a parent, I thought it a bit cruel to teach children the fantasy of Santa Claus.

Mind you, I wasn’t a scrooge. I wasn’t traumatized when I learned the truth myself as a child, and I still love celebrating Christmas. I also wasn’t overly concerned about the commercialization of the holiday or that Santa has usurped Jesus’ birth as reason to celebrate. I could tackle those problems as a parent.

I simply thought it mean-spirited to build up such an exciting fantasy in the very young, only to crush it for them a few years later. I was like Maureen O’Hara in Miracle on 34th Street.

Now that I’m a parent, I’ve changed my mind.

I realize now that the pre-parent “me” had missed the point because I had focused too narrowly on the literal existence of Santa. In my daughter’s eyes, Santa is indeed real because he manifests Christmas itself – except 5-year-children don’t talk about “manifesting reality” – they think instead of a jolly old guy in a red suit.

In my daughter’s eyes, mermaids and monsters exist; Mickey Mouse REALLY lives in Orlando; and reindeer can fly all over the world, safely landing on rooftops. It all makes sense. She’s not as focused on the reality of Santa Claus as she is the magic of Christmas. She’s at too tender an age to separate the two. By teaching her about Santa Claus, it makes teaching her the magic of Christmas – the important things – much easier.

Today, I enjoy seeing her enthusiasm for Santa Claus. It’s not cruel; it makes sense in her world. When she is a few years older and the realities of life come sharper into focus, the truth about Santa Claus will make sense, too.

Now I understand.

Just for fun, we once took a weekend trip to Charleston, South Carolina. As we strolled through an outdoor market in the town’s historic district, we came upon a table of hand-made Russian nesting dolls. There were about two dozen sets of the colorful matryoshka, each presented in a different theme: animals, children, flowers.

The dolls were beautiful; my 7-year-old daughter was mesmerized. She eyed each set carefully, working up the courage to ask if I’d buy her one.

I silently mulled how I’d answer her. These weren’t children’s dolls; these were collectibles. The cheapest set was $28, and they escalated in price to about $120. She was looking at a cute set of Panda bears that ran $40.

Candidly, price was not the real issue. I had other concerns. I wondered if she’d enjoy the dolls for an afternoon and then relegate them to a box in her room – home to many other “gotta have it” toys and dolls.

In fairness, on occasion she’ll pull out a stuffed bear or ignored souvenir from another vacation, using it to help recall a fun memory from the trip. Maybe she’d assign a warm memory to the dolls.

On the other hand, my daughter was going through a “I-want-to-buy-something-everywhere-we-go” phase. We often said yes – too often.

Ultimately, I said “no” to the dolls. They were too extravagant for a casual souvenir. My daughter curled her lip for a minute but didn’t complain. I think she understood. Later, we let her choose an $8 children’s book from another booth, and she was happy.

Did I draw the line at the right time – or did I deny her the chance to begin a lifetime love of collecting Russian dolls?

I think I made the right decision, but I’m constantly wondering where to draw that line…..

1)  When purchasing an artificial tree, look for the label “Fire Resistant.” Not all trees carry this label.

2)  When purchasing a live tree, cut a few inches off the trunk to expose the fresh wood. This allows for better water absorption and will help to keep your tree from drying out and becoming a fire hazard.

3) Keep the tree stand filled with water, because heated rooms can dry live trees out rapidly.

4) Never use electric lights on a metallic tree. The tree can become charged with electricity from faulty lights, and a person touching a branch could be electrocuted.

5)  Turn off all lights when you go to bed or leave the house. The lights could short out and start a fire.

6) In homes with small children, keep trimmings with small removable parts out of the reach of children to avoid the child swallowing or inhaling them; avoid trimmings that resemble candy or food that may tempt a young child to eat them. 

7) Young children can choke on small parts contained in toys or games. Government regulations specify that toys for children under age three cannot have parts less than 1 1/4 inches in diameter and 2 1/4 inches long.

8) Keep hot liquids and foods away from the edges of counters and tables, where they can be easily knocked over by a young child.

9) Remember that homes you visit may not be childproofed. Similarly, if your visitors are bringing small children into a home without young kids, consider temporarily “child proofing” the house beforehand.

10) Do not burn wrapping papers in the fireplace. A flash fire could result as wrappings ignite suddenly and burn intensely. Also, never burn evergreens in the fireplace. Dry wood can burn like tinder, and sparks could fly into the room or up the chimney to ignite

 Have a safe and wonderful holiday season!