For My Grandchildren

Paul Harvey writes:

This year
All years
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

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.