PAUL
HARVEY'S LETTER TO HIS GRANDCHILDREN
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/sister. 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/sister wants to tag along, I hope
you'll let him/her.
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 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 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 boy / 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 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/she is not your friend.
I sure
hope you make time to sit on a porch with your Grandma/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.
Note: whereas this essay is attributed to Paul Harvey, as it has circled the Internet for some time now. But Paul Harvey did not write it. The true author, Lee Pitts, published the nostalgic essay in 2000 in the book “Chicken Soup for the Golden Soul.” Paul Harvey does use material written by Lee Pitts from time to time and he did read this particular essay (crediting Pitts, of course) during his September 6, 1997 broadcast.
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