The
Sunscreen Address
Ladies and gentlemen of the class
of '97:
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip
for the future, sunscreen would be it.
The long-term benefits of sunscreen
have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis
more reliable than my own meandering experience.
I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and
beauty of your youth.
Oh, never mind.
You will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded.
But trust me, in 20
years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you
can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you
really looked.
You are not as fat
as you imagine.
Don't worry about
the future.
Or worry, but know
that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by
chewing bubblegum.
The real troubles
in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind,
the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every
day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless
with other people's hearts.
Don't put up with
people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your
time on jealousy.
Sometimes you're
ahead, sometimes you're behind.
The race is long
and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive.
Forget the insults.
If you succeed in doing this, tell
me how.
Keep your old love
letters.
Throw away your old
bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty
if you don't know what you want to do with your life.
The most
interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with
their lives.
Some of the most
interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of
calcium.
Be kind to your
knees.
You'll miss them
when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you
won't.
Maybe you'll have children, maybe
you won't .
Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe
you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.
Whatever you do, don't congratulate
yourself too much, or berate yourself either.
Your choices are half chance.
So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body.
Use it every way
you can.
Don't be afraid of
it or of what other people think of it.
It's the greatest
instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to
do it but your living room.
Read the
directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty
magazines.
They will only make
you feel ugly.
Get to know your
parents.
You never know when
they'll be gone for good.
Be nice to your
siblings.
They're your best
link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the
future.
Understand that
friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in
geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the
people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York
City once, but leave before it makes you hard.
Live in Northern
California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain
inalienable truths: Prices will rise.
Politicians will
philander.
You, too, will get
old.
And when you do,
you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable,
politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone
else to support you.
Maybe you have a
trust fund.
Maybe you'll have a
wealthy spouse.
But you never know
when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much
with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy,
but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of
nostalgia.
Dispensing it is a
way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over
the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen. mock
graduation address by Mary Schmich of the Chicago Tribune 1997; also found credited to Kurt Vonnegut |