Posted by Lisa Marnell
A teacher friend of mine in Massachusetts gave this essay to me at the end of last year (thanks, Kim). I wanted to share this writing with you because of the details. Good details make good writing. The writing below is beautiful.
I Hope That - By Paul Harvey
We have 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 them to know about hand-me-down clothes and home-made ice cream and leftover meatloaf 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 that 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 a younger brother or sister. And it is alright 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 is scared, I hope you let him.
When you want to see a movie and your little sister wants to tag along, I hope you let her. I hope that 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 that you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what Ivory soap tastes like.
May you skin your knee climbing a mountain and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole.
I sure hope you take the time to sit on a porch with your grandfather and go fishing with your uncle.
May you feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays.
I hope that your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through a neighbor’s window and that she hugs and kisses you 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 is the only way to appreciate life.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Posted by Lisa Marnell