Quote:
ADVICE, LIKE YOUTH,
PROBABLY JUST WASTED
ON THE YOUNG
June 1, 1997
Inside every adult lurks a graduation speaker
dying to get out, some world-weary pundit eager
to pontificate on life to young people who'd rather
be Rollerblading. Most of us, alas, will never be
invited to sow our words of wisdom among an
audience of caps and gowns, but there's no reason
we can't entertain ourselves by composing a
Guide to Life for Graduates.
I encourage anyone over 26 to try this and thank
you for indulging my attempt.
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 bubble gum. 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.