While I’m not a fan of new year’s resolutions, I do think it’s helpful to set priorities for the coming year. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about Deborah Copaken’s three rules for living well in middle age. They’re a good way to focus on what matters most.
Copaken had the good fortune of knowing Nora Ephron as friend and mentor. She writes of Ephron’s generous gifts of time, wisdom, and humor. Her three rules distill what she learned from their many years of friendship and living well.
1. Gather friends and feed them
Hospitality is something of a lost art these days. You could get together with friends at a restaurant or coffee shop, but there’s something special about gathering in someone’s home. There are fewer distractions, and there’s no pressure to leave to let the servers clear the table and seat another party. If someone is struggling with grief or a difficult diagnosis, it’s ok to cry. People can more easily be themselves.
Even before the pandemic, our society was becoming more lonely. Many of the institutions and structures that fostered connection had been deteriorating for years. At the same time, social media have further divided us, feeding us “news” and stoking rage according to our preferences. So often, even when people are in the same room, they’re paying more attention to their phones than to each other. Also, when we respond online to people we’ll never meet, we don’t see how harsh words land on other human beings.
Gathering friends around your table, phones set aside, allows them to connect naturally and much more meaningfully. If cooking a meal is too much work, let everyone bring something, or just have dessert. But fostering friendships is essential to living well at any age.
Long-term friendships with people of different ages nurture and enrich our lives. We gain wisdom and perspective from older friends and new ideas and energy from younger ones. As some of my older friends have died, I’m making a point of getting to know younger people. Some even seek me out as a source of wisdom. No guarantees there, but I do my best.
2. Laugh in the face of calamity
This rule is the hardest to follow. In the midst of calamity, it’s hard to see beyond the immediate distress. As you age, calamity is likelier to result in permanent loss. You may heal from the illness, but your body doesn’t recover its full capacity. Or you have to make permanent changes to cope with your new condition. And death and divorce are each permanent in their ways. Remarrying or having another child or adopting a new puppy will not replace the loss.
It isn’t natural to find humor in such situations, and sometimes it’s completely out of place. But as Joe Biden has often said to people grieving the loss of a loved one, “There will come a day, I promise you, when the thought of your son, or daughter, or your wife or your husband, brings a smile to your lips before it brings a tear to your eye. It will happen. My prayer for you is that day will come sooner than later.” Sharing stories about the person or thing you lost helps you work through it. Some of those stories will bring smiles as well as tears, and they’re something to treasure.
Times of calamity are when you most need friends, and when your friendship means the most to someone else. Whether you offer practical help or just your presence––in the doctor’s office, at the funeral, at home three weeks later, at the next holiday gathering––showing up matters. If you’ve cultivated friendships all along, you will have––and be––the kind of friend that makes for living well in hard times.
3. Cut out all the things that no longer serve you
The things I’ve needed to cut out of my life have changed over the years. Sometimes it was friendships or romantic relationships that were more destructive or draining than helpful. Sometimes it was difficult clients or bullying bosses that made it hard to get out of bed in the morning. By now I’ve lost track of the body parts I no longer possess.
These days I’m sorting through my possessions to see what to keep and what to discard. I plan to sell my house and move into a condo in 2026. The steep stairs, snow removal, and yard work of my single-family home are more than I can cope with. I’m looking for good homes for things so they won’t end up in a landfill. This is one benefit of having younger friends: people my age don’t need more stuff, but younger people do. So far I’ve found takers for a kitchen table, two chairs, and three bookcases. And I have tentative offers for some old stereo components and an antique blanket chest.
I’m refurbishing and repurposing what I do plan to keep. Piece by piece, I’m having chairs reupholstered, refinished, reglued, and recaned as necessary. It would be difficult to find new furniture of comparable quality at any price, and these pieces have history and meaning beyond price.
A beautiful kilim, which Maren enjoyed hiding under, kept skating across my hardwood floors. Now it covers a bench and a footstool––still beautiful, but no longer a tripping hazard.
Here’s to living well in 2026!