Put aside newspaper and other work-related issues to spend a few moments on being a member of the "sandwich generation" -- adults who have both children and parents who, to some degree or another, need care and attention.
We celebrated my father's 78th birthday on Thursday with a pizza party at an unanticipated location: children and grandchildren gathered in the "Sunshine Room" of the rehab center where my mother is trying to learn to get along with a broken ankle.
The best present was for me: When I picked him up at his apartment and he asked me to guess what was the best thing about it being his birthday, and I hopefully (and correctly) took a shot. "You're alive."
Yes, he said, I'm glad to be alive.