In a continuing effort to create a world with less cancer and more birthdays, the American Cancer Society Blogger Advisory Council — a group of prominent bloggers dedicated to harnessing the power of women in the blogosphere to fight cancer — conceived the Bloggers for More Birthdays blog chain. The blog chain will be an ongoing conversation in the social media space to generate awareness and inspire action around cancer issues. We’re kicking it off today with a simple “Dedicate and Celebrate” theme — we’re dedicating our blog posts to someone we love who’s been affected by cancer.  It’s a simple way to celebrate those you love.

We’d love for you to add your voice too — just write a post, grab the special “Bloggers for More Birthdays” badge, and know that whatever you write, you’re raising awareness and inspiring others to create a world with more birthdays and less cancer with the American Cancer Society (and gaining visibility for your blog too!).  There’s nothing more inspiring and healing than sharing our stories. Don’t forget to come back to our special blog chain page to share what you’ve written.

To kick off this special effort, blogger Julie Pippert, a member of the Blogger Council, creator of the blog Julie Pippert: Using My Words and contributor to Momocrats and Motherhood.com has written this beautiful dedication post. We are grateful for her support and the support of the entire council. I can’t wait to see where this conversation goes.

Celebrating More Birthdays

It was days, really, between learning my friend was being sent home, cancer treatment suspended, and learning she had passed away. Sadly, the first symptom came well after the cancer had already metastasized and spread. They began intensive treatment, aggressive. It was hard on her, but she had a lot to live for: loving family, loving friends, and two beautiful children, as well as all of her work, including a book she authored for children about children on the autism spectrum. That was her: a do-er.

She was the sort of person you could picture growing older, still doing. I could even picture her forty years from now blowing out a cake full of candles. In my imagination, over her cake, her hair was still bright, as it was before she got sick. She’d do that, I knew, keep herself looking nice. She’d have a big smile, and she’d tell everyone they shouldn’t have made such a fuss, but everyone would ignore her because they knew she was deeply touched — family and family times were everything. I wished that for her with all my heart.

When I got the message she was gone, I denied it. I didn’t believe it until I read her obituary in the paper. I left a comment on the online memorial. I spoke about what a fantastic person she was. I spoke about how heartbreaking a loss it was. I mentioned nothing of my anger.

The next day, I went for a run. My feet pounded the track in fury. The hot Texas summer sun pounded me back, just as brutal as my anger. I hate this, I thought, I hate this day. My children had been surly, uncooperative, and cranky. The day was intolerably hot and humid. The sun was relentless. I pulled myself along the straight stretch before a curve that took me along the water.

My iPod stumbled out of my pacing songs and Falling Slowly came on. I nearly clicked to the next song, but the lyrics caught and tugged at my grief. We’ve still got time…the song trilled. But my friend doesn’t, I thought, my friend hasn’t got more time. Why not? I knew how she’d feel about that, and that she’d be of two minds, and unapologetic. That’s how she was. She called it like it was. But she also called blessings for what they were too. I felt ashamed of my ingratitude: for having known her, for all the gifts I received from her, for the beautiful children she brought into the world and would not get to see grow up, for the fact that I had today, another day with my children even if they were cranky and I was grief-stricken and miserably hot.

I took the curve in the track a little slowly and I thought hard about her. She’d have loved this hot day. She’d have loved to be healthy and bickering with her children about getting ready for day camp. She would have loved having this day, I knew. And I wanted to give her to, a late or early birthday gift, depending upon how you looked at it.

Here it is, I thought with my mind and heart, here is this day, another day, one you would have liked, one that was hot, one that was about being a mom, one that was about making  a healthy choice. I sent the experience of the day up and out, and away to her. And a little bit of grief fell away from my heart.

She may not have another birthday, but I do. She may not get to celebrate another birthday with her kids, but I can. And I can send the appreciation and joy from that to her.

My friend, and all the other friends, mothers, sisters, daughters, brothers, fathers, husbands, wives – all the other people who have gone, or are still here fighting, or stand beside someone fighting cancer – are why I joined the American Cancer Society’s More Birthdays effort. I can take a page from my friend’s book and be a do-er. I can celebrate and recognize that every birthday is a blessing.

Join the American Cancer Society in the effort to celebrate More Birthdays. All you need to do is dedicate a blog post to someone you love who has been affected by cancer and celebrate their lives. You can check out other posts on the American Cancer Society’s Birthday Blog for inspiration, but know that whatever you write, you’re raising awareness and inspiring others to join ACS in the fight against cancer. It would also help if you could host the badge on your blog (or Facebook page, or MySpace Page) to encourage others to join.

Happy Birthday.

Julie Pippert is a member of the American Cancer Society Blogger Advisory Council, creator of the blog Julie Pippert: Using My Words and contributor to Momocrats and Motherhood.com.

It was days, really, between learning my friend was being sent home, cancer treatment suspended, and learning she had passed away. Sadly, the first symptom came well after the cancer had already metastasized and spread. They began intensive treatment, aggressive. It was hard on her, but she had a lot to live for: loving family, loving friends, and two beautiful children, as well as all of her work, including a book she authored for children about children on the autism spectrum. That was her: a do-er.

She was the sort of person you could picture growing older, still doing. I could even picture her forty years from now blowing out a cake full of candles. In my imagination, over her cake, her hair was still bright, as it was before she got sick. She’d do that, I knew, keep herself looking nice. She’d have a big smile, and she’d tell everyone they shouldn’t have made such a fuss, but everyone would ignore her because they knew she was deeply touched — family and family times were everything. I wished that for her with all my heart.

When I got the message she was gone, I denied it. I didn’t believe it until I read her obituary in the paper. I left a comment on the online memorial. I spoke about what a fantastic person she was. I spoke about how heartbreaking a loss it was. I mentioned nothing of my anger.

The next day, I went for a run. My feet pounded the track in fury. The hot Texas summer sun pounded me back, just as brutal as my anger. I hate this, I thought, I hate this day. My children had been surly, uncooperative, and cranky. The day was intolerably hot and humid. The sun was relentless. I pulled myself along the straight stretch before a curve that took me along the water.

My iPod stumbled out of my pacing songs and Falling Slowly came on. I nearly clicked to the next song, but the lyrics caught and tugged at my grief. We’ve still got time…the song trilled. But my friend doesn’t, I thought, my friend hasn’t got more time. Why not? I knew how she’d feel about that, and that she’d be of two minds, and unapologetic. That’s how she was. She called it like it was. But she also called blessings for what they were too. I felt ashamed of my ingratitude: for having known her, for all the gifts I received from her, for the beautiful children she brought into the world and would not get to see grow up, for the fact that I had today, another day with my children even if they were cranky and I was grief-stricken and miserably hot.

I took the curve in the track a little slowly and I thought hard about her. She’d have loved this hot day. She’d have loved to be healthy and bickering with her children about getting ready for day camp. She would have loved having this day, I knew. And I wanted to give her to, a late or early birthday gift, depending upon how you looked at it.

Here it is, I thought with my mind and heart, here is this day, another day, one you would have liked, one that was hot, one that was about being a mom, one that was about making  a healthy choice. I sent the experience of the day up and out, and away to her. And a little bit of grief fell away from my heart.

She may not have another birthday, but I do. She may not get to celebrate another birthday with her kids, but I can. And I can send the appreciation and joy from that to her.

My friend, and all the other friends, mothers, sisters, daughters, brothers, fathers, husbands, wives – all the other people who have gone, or are still here fighting, or stand beside someone fighting cancer – are why I joined the American Cancer Society’s More Birthdays effort. I can take a page from my friend’s book and be a do-er. I can celebrate and recognize that every birthday is a blessing.

Join the American Cancer Society in the effort to celebrate More Birthdays. All you need to do is dedicate a blog post to someone you love who has been affected by cancer and celebrate their lives.
You can check out other posts on the American Cancer Society’s Birthday Blog for inspiration, but know that whatever you write, you’re raising awareness and inspiring others to join ACS in the fight against cancer.
It would also help if you could host the badge on your blog (or Facebook page, or
MySpace Page) to encourage others to join.

Happy Birthday.

It’s hard to believe that it’s really been 20 years since the claymation pair made their debut in the British short film A Grand Day Out, but what started off as a student production went on to entertain children (and adults) around the world. Paste Magazine has a great salute to the series, and here’s an excerpt:

Begun while director Nick Park was still in college, theWallace and Gromit series is likely the most successful franchise ever built out of a student film. That the film “A Grand Day Out” went on to an Academy Award nomination at the same time as another of Park’s works, the equally surreal “Creature Comforts,” is a testament to just how good Park was right out of the gate, appearing in even his earliest works as a fully-formed artist in a way that’s pretty rare for any medium, let alone one which requires the shear level of craft as animation. Since then, the Wallace and Gromitpictures have gone on to win three Academy Awards as well as pretty much every other award offered to animated films under the sun. Not bad, considering that the series has only had one feature film and, frankly, it’s not even the series’ strong point.

Happy birthday Wallace and Gromit. Keep enjoying the Wensleydale cheese and here’s to many more!

Ahead of his 50th birthday next week, Simon Cowell got introspective and published a lengthy letter to his younger self in the UK’s Daily Mail. In the letter, he looked back on the past few decades, scolding himself for poor decisions, and patting himself on the back for good ones.

“You are on a roll and you think the good times will last forever but, oh dear, Simon. You are so, so wrong,” he writes to the 1980s version of himself. “You look like a complete idiot…you are overconfident, far too cocky and dressed from head to toe in expensive designer gear…It hasn’t dawned on you yet, you idiot, that you can’t afford any of this stuff.”

Of course, toward the end he’s a bit nicer to himself:

“I must say, despite everything, I’m quite proud of you, Simon,” he says. “You’re happy, you’re content and just incredibly grateful for where you are.”

I must admit this is a nice idea – taking a step back on a milestone birthday and looking at what you’ve accomplished as well as the stuff that didn’t work out so well. Of course, mine probably wouldn’t be published in the Daily Mail, but oh well. Here’s to many more birthdays, Simon.

During the past week we’ve been talking a lot about birthdays involving some pretty lofty numbers (whether it was Astrid Thoenig who turned 100 at work or Walter Breuning who became the world’s oldest man at 113). So that got me thinking … we really need some party tips for the slightly older crowd, because there’s no such thing as having too many candles to light. Here’s a great idea I came across from lifetips.com:

Photos from Days Gone By

Ask each of the guests to bring photos of themselves with the birthday person from years ago. For instance, if the person is celebrating their 60^th birthday, ask guests to bring a photo of themselves when they were together in college, or were coworkers, etc. Makes for great memories and lots of talking over of old times.

Even if you’ve had more birthdays than you care to remember, there’s no reason you can’t party with the best of them. Here’s to many more good times and birthdays to come.