For My Grandchildren
Paul Harvey writes:
We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them
worse. For my grandchildren, I'd like better. I'd really like for them
to know about hand-me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover
meatloaf sandwiches. I really would. I hope you learn humility by being
humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated. I hope you
learn to make your bed and mow the lawn and wash the car. And I really
hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen. It will be
good if at least one time you can see puppies born and your old dog put
to sleep. I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe
in.
I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother. And it's
all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but
when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he's scared, I
hope you let him. When you want to see a movie and your little brother
wants to tag along, I hope you'll let him. I hope you have to walk
uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you
can do it safely. On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope
you don't ask your 'driver' to drop you two blocks away so you won't be
seen riding with someone as uncool as your Mom. If you want a
slingshot, I hope your Dad teaches you how to make one instead of buying
one. I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books. When you
learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in
your head. I hope you get teased by your friends when you have your
first crush on a girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you
learn what Ivory soap tastes like.
May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on a stove
and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole. I don't care if you try a
beer once, but I hope you don't like it. And if a friend offers you dope
or a joint, I hope you realize he is not your friend. I sure hope you
make time to sit on a porch with your Grandpa and go fishing with your
Uncle. May you feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays. I
hope your Mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through a
neighbor's window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Christmas
time when you give her a plaster mold of your hand. These things I wish
for you - tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness. To
me, it's the only way to appreciate life.
Written with a pen.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Sealed with a kiss.
