Poem by Paul Harvey
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 meat
loaf 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 own 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 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 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 un cool 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. 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 your 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. Sealed with a kiss. I'm here
for you. And if I die before you do, I'll go to heaven and wait for you.
Paul Harvey
|
