The very popular "Wear Sunscreen" speech is a song that is occasionally played. Not a common song, it just is someone speaking to a background rhythem, it's pleasant sounding and rather relaxing. The most common myth floating around is that it was a speech given by Kurt Vonnegut at the 1997 MIT graduation ceremony. Well, it isn't.

It's actually a column that a Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich wrote for the paper, when she was high on caffeine and M&M's, I believe were her words. A page you may want to look at that lists both her and Kurt Vonnegut's reaction (as well as that page containing a link to what was really said at the 1997 MIT graduation comencement.) Visit Schmich here.

But here is the actual reason for this page...

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 blindsides you at 4 pm 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.

To return to the main page, click here.

© 1997 kithan@mindspring.com

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