I spent most of my childhood very sick, and I never thought that I would live to see my eighteenth birthday. Now, my life has been filled with warmth and joy brought by so many different people.

Some people will be present when I raise the glass, but many more friends will be absent. They will be separated by geography or even time. Some friends have passed in the last year, and they will be missed in the years to come.

Therefore, I raise a glass and offer a toast to absent friends tonight. I will do this every January 6th until I myself can no longer raise a glass.

If you have touched my life, then I say thank you. I also encourage you to raise a glass to the people who have influenced you.

• Perhaps that teacher who challenged you in school.
• Or the young child that you played with on the playground.
• Or a colleague at a former workplace.
• Or a friend who lives in a different city.
• A family member who lives far away.
• Someone dear who has died.

May all of our friends, even when absent, never be forgotten.

In social capital theory, you can be a broker (someone who can create a bridge across a social network). Traditional brokers stand with their hand-out and ask for a referral/introduction fee. Yet, you can also connect people because you know both of them will benefit from the connection. Once you make the connection, you step away and let the relationship grow.

It’s the difference between a transactional (give-ask) introduction and a relational (give-and-ask-nothing) introduction. When I make an introduction, I don’t stand with my hand out. I connect people because I love to watch these connections develop.

About two months ago, I connected two of my life-time friends, Peter Winick and Rajesh Setty. On the surface, you might say there are so many differences between them:

• One lives in New York and the other lives in San Jose;
• One is outspoken and quick-speaking, and the other is wise and reflective; and
• One is a Jew, and the other a Hindu.

Labels and stereotypes can be deceiving. So, don’t let labels prevent great connections.

I knew these two people so very well, Both possess keen, flexible minds and a passion for creating deep relationships. I was certain that if they ever met, they’d soon find many things to talk about. When I made the introduction, I wrote “I don’t know where this connection will lead, but I’m certain that it will be amazing.” When they first met, a 1 hr. coffee meeting turned into a 3 hr. dinner.

The introduction happened two months ago. This week, they both contacted me to tell me that they’re now working together to develop and sell a very cool meeting-planning application–Jiffle. I’m thrilled for both of them.

If you want to make good connections, you need a good “relationship sniffer.” You can’t just connect people and hope for the best. You have to see a win-win for both people you connect–even if you don’t have a specific tactical opportunity in mind.

I encourage you to take some time and think about the people in your network. I’m betting there’s latent (untapped) value within your network which could be brought to life through a smart introduction between two people.

How can you strengthen your network by making smart connections?

Last week, I tracked down one of my primary care physicians, Dr. Lucy Lester, who is now head of the Pediatric Pulmonary Medicine Division. She started practicing medicine in 1980. By that time, I was a eight-year veteran of the CF clinic (and a precocious nine-year old).

I searched the web and found her contact information, I wrote her a letter. I thanked her for care. Her strong spirit had helped me survive my childhood and achieve my current life. I’m alive today, in no small part, to her.

My letter also included memories of a mutual friend. Dr. Rothberg was my primary care physician and her mentor for many years–and he was an amazing doctor who never talked down to children and radiated compassion. If I know Dr. Lester, she’ll probably laugh when she reads the memories.

I never tested positive for Cystic Fibrosis, so they were only able to treat my syptoms rather than diagnose what I had. I’d never had the CF genetic test, because I knew that the local physician would give me just a “yes/no” answer. They wouldn’t look at the results with a researcher’s eyes.

Dr. Lester still actively researches Cystic Fibrosis, Asthma, and other respiratory illnesses. I asked her if she thought access to me or my DNA would help a researcher investigating ways to help children breathe easier.

By the end of the letter, I had revisited my childhood through my eyes as an adult, and I’d gained a new appreciation for what others had done for me. I finished the letter with tears.

That’s my first story for the Gratitude Project. Now, I challenge you to go out and do the same. Find someone who shaped you, thank them, and then tell the story.

During this journey, I have been so fortunate. I’ve received amazing help from many other people–who blend brilliance and skill. So, I’d like to dedicate this post to them. I am humbled, and truly grateful for every bit of help and encouragement.

Rajesh Setty–My friend brother. He’s also the world’s most compelling advocate for blogs and personal brands. Once you meet him, you will have a blog. It’s just a matter of when. Without his patient encouragement, I’d never have started (or sustained) this blog. He’s now at 1100 posts on his own blog, and he’s been both mentor and inspiration.

Renee Hawthorne–There’s so much that Renee has done. She an incredibly skilled designer. The look-and-feel of this website represents her work. She also keeps the back-end technology current and finds creative answers to my questions of “can we do that?”

Naveen Lakkur–CEO of Compassites and author of Start2lead. Naveen lives in Bangalore, and we’ve shared many late-night conversations via Skype. His company transformed Renee’s design into a functioning blog. Naveen has a goal to be involved with 100 startups (as a leader or investor) during his career.

Peter Winick–Partner at the Center for Great Management. Peter’s gift is to look at an idea and push, nudge, and polish it. He’s helped me breathe life into this blog and find my voice. Whether it’s via phone or e-mail, his suggestions are always timely and dead-on.

Tim Sanders–Five years ago, Tim and I had deep conversations about networks. While neither of us used the term social capital, that’s precisely what we were discussing. Tim provided an initial vocabulary which set me on the path.

Readers and Active Commenters

• Joe Franklin–for jumping regularly jumping in with comments and supporting stories;
• Ray Bruels–who makes the blog part of his morning routine;
• Dan Hawthorne of Cogniphany–for his support, feedback, and great comments;
• Graham Southwell–for conducting a great interview for the BNI New Zealand blog;
• Tamara Kerr, Principal at TriOpus–diving in and reading through the blog in a whirlwind;
• Molly Fulghum–who reached out to provide some of the first reader feedback;
• David Crowley, CEO of Social Capital Inc. for putting the principles of Social Capital into practice and sharing some wonderful examples of how social capital can help a distressed community.
• Tara Hunt of HorsePigCow who helped get the word out about the blog; and
• Mike Cayley of Social Capital Value Add for sharing a nice analysis of how Burt and Lin’s work ties to media production.

Thank you for joining this conversation and encouraging me to expand my thinking. Like any writer, I love feedback and comments–whether here on the blog or by e-mail.

My family lived in the western suburbs of Chicago, and it meant a 45 minute commute to the south side of Chicago whenever I got sick (which happened a lot).

The cystic fibrosis clinic shared a waiting room with the sickle-cell anemia clinic. You didn’t need to be a doctor to diagnose these kids. The white kids, generally, were the ones with cystic, and the black kids had sickle cell anemia. Both diseases are written within the childrens’ genes. You don’t “catch” cystic or sickle cell. You’re born with them.

There, in that bleak waiting room, some children coughed–with the loose, rattling, emphysematic cough of decades long smokers. Other children cried. Some sat silently, struggling to breathe. Their eyes revealed a deep pain.

In that waiting room, I received a vaccination against prejudice. I learned, as a five-year old, that sick children are just that–sick children–regardless of race or gender. This philosophy formed a cornerstone of my personality, and it still shapes me today. I’m grateful for each breath I take.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re a white kid struggling with cystic or a black kid struggling with sickle cell. We sat and played together in that waiting room, happy for each breath and hoping for another.

We shared toys. We waited. We breathed.

What childhood experiences give you a unique and positive perspective on life and social interactions?