Ever been faced with a problem in your life and didn't feel like you had anyone to turn to for advice — someone with enough life experience to help guide you in the right direction?

That's the idea behind cyber-grandparenting. An online community of over 600 elders dispenses advice to young people through Elder Wisdom Circle, a website that connects younger generations seeking advice with elders willing and able to give it. 

Doug Meckelson founded the Elder Wisdom Circle in 2001.

"What we do is match seniors between the ages of 60 to about 105 who have advice and wisdom to share with younger generations who have problems in their lives and are looking for some empathetic and caring advice," Meckelson says in a YouTube promotional video.

As a nonprofit, the Elder Wisdom Circle receives Google AdWords advertising, which has helped the organization gain tremendous exposure to web-surfers looking for a few words of wisdom. Last fall Mechelson estimated that the nonprofit had received over 20,000 requests for advice.

One cyber-grandparent says that she's written over 400 replies to online advice-seekers. 

The website appears to be a win-win for those seeking help with life problems, and for seniors who want to share their hard-earned wisdom with younger generations.
 
"I see eldering as really trying to share insights, share perspectives, and share experiences," said one member of the elder circle.

Who's looking for advice, and what kind of advice are they seeking? The site attracts all ages — from teens to 40-year-olds — looking for help with career decisions, concerns about children, and family and marriage issues. On the Elder Wisdom Circle website, you can peruse the letters and elder responses, ask for advice, or offer advice.

Personally, I think Meckelson's on to something. He's filling a void that has been created by our fast-paced, geographically and technologically divided world. This passing-on of guidance and advice is a natural part of the aging process and an essential component of any well-balanced society. 

Sure, in an ideal world we'd share these stories and life lessons over a cup of tea or on a walk through the woods, but you've got to work with what you've got. And in this case, the Internet is the obvious alternative.

Yesterday's luxuries are today's necessities. 

In a world where "luxury" means five-star spa resorts and sleek four-door sedans, have we lost our ability to appreciate the day-to-day pleasures of 21st-century living? 

A car in the garage, a television in the living room, and a refrigerator in the kitchen. Our grandparents saved their pennies for these now commonplace items.

And the trend from extraordinary to ordinary continues. We've already seen how quickly personal computers and cell phones have morphed into household necessities.

What about the convenience of on-demand hot, running water? I had never given this much thought as I poured my bath every night before bed. But a few weeks ago, as I settled in for a nice, long soak, I thought of Merton Pike and the winter his family lost their household water supply. For the entire season. On a dairy farm in northern Vermont.

The Pike family has operated Keewaydin farm on Route 100 just south of Stowe since 1921. I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Merton, 90, for Stowe Speaks, a community oral history project sponsored by Stowe Historical Society. 

When the water pipe that fed the barn froze that winter in the early 1930s, the family had to act fast to keep their cows hydrated.

"We rigged it up to have water that we could get out of the river, baled it into a sap tank, and put that into a tank in the barn and baled it out to each cow," Merton recalls. "Cows drink a lot of water when you're lugging it to them."

Although they were able to get the spring that fed the barn running again after a few days, the water supply to the house never did get going. 

What did these hard-working men do? They carried milk cans filled with spring water from the tank in the barn, into their home, up the long flight of stairs to the second floor, and then poured the water into an old washing machine tub that fed it into a pipe which circulated the water back downstairs, warming it by the wood stove. Then they lugged the warm water from the kitchen back upstairs  ... just to take a bath. 

Nothing like a little perspective from generations past to help us appreciate the niceties of today. That hot water running from the tap in my bathroom never felt as luxurious as it did the night after my interview with Merton Pike. 

Merton's story, one of many he told that day, gave me a new perspective on entitlement and privilege. Instead of thinking, "Ah, I deserve this," as I sink into a warm bath at the end of a long day, I remember the Pikes and the winter their baths required hauling jugs of water through the deep snow and up a flight of stairs for the second time in a row. And instead I think, "Boy, am I lucky."