"THESE THINGS I WISH FOR EACH OF YOU "
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.
My cherished grandson, 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 that nobody gives you a brand new car when you are
sixteen. I hope you have a job by then.
It will be good if at least one time you can see a baby calf 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 Disney 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 ride I hope your driver doesn't
have 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 those newfangled computers, I hope you also
learn to add and subtract in your head.
I hope you get razzled 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 hope you get sick when someone blows cigar smoke in your
face.
I don't care if you try 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 the joy of 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 of Paris mold of your
hand.
These things I wish for you ---tough times and disappointment,
hard work and happiness.
words from Paul Harvey