Fri 1 Sep 2006
I just finished – even sealed and addressed and stamped – a letter to my nephew, who turned 18 three months ago. The letter accompanies his present. In the letter I give him some advice. I thought about just pasting it in here, but honestly, it’s a letter to him, not an excuse for a blog post. It just seemed wrong somehow. I will say, however, that I tried to give him the sort of advice my eldest sister gave me, right before I went off to college. I tried not to sound stuffy, but I came off as stuffy. I tried not to sound too slack, but I came off as slack. I encouraged him to travel, to read every book he can get his hands on, to watch True Stories, to create. It’s a good letter, if I do say so myself.
He’s 18, so he’ll probably read it to his girlfriend in a mocking voice. I’m OK with that. I was 18, once, too.
At any rate, since I’m not going to blog the letter itself, I’m blogging about not blogging the letter. Just pretend we had a moment, you and I, and leave it at that.
I do think it’s a pretty good letter, though.
I hope to god he gets to watch True Stories in the format it was intended to be viewed in.
Um.
You know.
OK, I’m just not thinking about that. Holy crap it scares me to think he’s doing the same stuff I was doing at 18.
We Were So Very Young Then.
Personally, I want anyone I know to do more than I did at 18 – even True Stories in the proper, er, movie seat.
I look back just at those friends who were essentially the Freshmen when I should have been a senior and wish I had the chutzpa – and opportunity, don’t get me wrong – to do some of the things they did scholastically, socially, mentally.
At a certain point, it sounds stuffy and any 18 year old seeing any advice just needs to get the hell off your lawn. But that stuffy sound comes with the voice you have now have vs. the voice you had then; writing anything for an 18-year old that they would truly dig when they are 18 you just can’t bring yourself to say – at least not without sighing and rolling your eyes.
Regardless, here’s to Black Label and tequila.
It almost makes me wish I had written that proverbial “letter to my future self” at 18. But then again, finding letters I wrote when I was 21 is painful (and hilarious) enough.
Right movie seat, indeed.
OK, now, I totally want him to do more of the good things than I did – even in the True Stories-as-meant-to-be-watched sense.
In all seriousness, I stood in front of the mail slot at work and thought about it and thought about it and then just turned off my brain and put the card through. So, it’s off and in the mail now.
I am glad you mailed it off.
Also, I’d like to second that: here’s to Black Label and tequila and having survived all the decisions we made.