I've had the little book, with its glossy plaid cover, ever since it was released in 1991. I was 21 years old and already a fan of well-crafted, powerful words. So it was no surprise I picked up Life's Little Instruction Book: 511 suggestions, observations, and reminders on how to live a happy and rewarding life. And it's no surprise I have kept it with me for all these years, allowing it a lifetime membership on my bookshelf, where I can swiftly pluck it from its spot when I need a little inspiration.

Now in a worn, faded, and tattered state, this book is still one of my favorites. Its words are timeless, its messages are meaningful -- even more so now that I am 36 years ago. Now a college graduate, a one-time working professional, a wife, a mom, a writer, and a breast cancer survivor, the reflections printed in this book speak to me more clearly than ever before.

Here are seven of my current favorites from Life's Little Instruction Book -- written by H. Jackson Brown, Jr. for his college-bound son at a time when he had no idea the road map he provided for his child would come to serve so many others.

• Always have something beautiful in sight, even if it's just a daisy in a jelly glass.

• Don't forget, a person's greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.

• Choose work that is in harmony with your values.

• Don't be intimidated by doctors and nurses. Even when you're in the hospital, it's still your body.

• Don't use time or words carelessly. Neither can be retrieved.

• Live so that when your children think of fairness, caring, and integrity, they think of you.

• Keep it simple.
  

I went out to lunch with my husband and kids yesterday. Sitting right behind us in the restaurant was a woman wearing a white hat, worn to mask an obvious bald head. My two little boys kept watching this woman, my littlest turning in his seat to get the best possible view. These boys, ages five and three, were not looking at this woman because a bald head is an odd sight in a public venue. They were looking because, to them, a bald head is familiar. And I think they were sizing up this woman, recalling what I once cleverly hid -- my own bald head.

We all noticed the woman in her white hat. But we handled our observations differently. My husband chose to focus on the task at hand -- eating. My boys chose to stare. I chose to contemplate.

I contemplated talking to this woman. I always have this urge -- to talk with others I suspect are fighting cancer -- and I always wonder if it's appropriate to approach strangers to discuss such a personal topic. Do I have a free pass to enter another's cancer world because I myself have membership in the same world? Perhaps. Perhaps not. So when faced with a possible cancer survivor -- marked mostly by a bald head -- I usually hesitate, contemplate, and then do nothing other than quietly consider what life might be like for the person who faces me.

Maybe I lack courage and should find a way to connect with these strangers. It may do us all a bit of good. Maybe courage has nothing to do with it. Maybe I refrain from conversation out of respect for each person's privacy. I am not convinced either way.

For now, I think I'll stick with what works, what feels safe -- observation and contemplation. And maybe next time I'm in a restaurant and notice someone strikingly familiar, I'll take a stab at my husband's approach -- just simply eating.