Tucked into a shelf upstairs at home is a rather disorganized collection of precious things I've collected over the years. Little trinkets, inspirational books, letters and postcards from friends and family, notebooks filled with thoughts I've scrawled, and scraps of paper with passages or poems that hold special meaning.

I keep them close by because they help keep me connected to events and people and places in this life, to things I will always cherish and remember. And when I look through them every now and again, they help to slow down the frantic pace of life for a few brief moments and give me some time to reflect on what's been, even as life rushes forward.

Rummaging through this pile of stuff the other day I came across one of my absolute favorites: Anna Quindlen's Commencement Address at Villanova University in 2000.

It's a simple recipe for how to live, for putting things in proper perspective, and recognizing what is truly important in this life. It's brilliant and moving and true and brings tears to my eyes every time. Read it yourself and see.

It's all very good, but the end of it just kills me...

Well, you can learn all those things, out there, if you get a life, a full life, a professional life, yes, but another life, too, a life of love and laughs and a connection to other human beings. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Here you could learn in the classroom. There the classroom is everywhere. The exam comes at the very end. No man ever said on his deathbed I wish I had spent more time at the office. I found one of my best teachers on the boardwalk at Coney Island maybe 15 years ago. It was December, and I was doing a story about how the homeless survive in the winter months.

He and I sat on the edge of the wooden supports, dangling our feet over the side, and he told me about his schedule; panhandling the boulevard when the summer crowds were gone, sleeping in a church when the temperature went below freezing, hiding from the police amidst the Tilt a Whirl and the Cyclone and some of the other seasonal rides. But he told me that most of the time he stayed on the boardwalk, facing the water, just the way we were sitting now even when it got cold and he had to wear his newspapers after he read them.

And I asked him why. Why didn't he go to one of the shelters? Why didn't he check himself into the hospital for detox? And he just stared out at the ocean and said, "Look at the view, young lady. Look at the view."

And every day, in some little way, I try to do what he said. I try to look at the view. And that's the last thing I have to tell you today, words of wisdom from a man with not a dime in his pocket, no place to go, nowhere to be. Look at the view. You'll never be disappointed.

It's a beautiful Friday with a nice looking weekend just ahead. I'm headed off to do some hiking, maybe you are too. Or paddling, biking, hanging out with family and friends, feet up with a good book, a barbeque, swimming at the lake.

Whatever it might be, enjoy! It's a pretty good life we've got, nowhere near perfect, with plenty of ups and downs, but pretty darn good over all. Something not to be taken for granted.