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BETTER FOR OUR KIDS
by Paul Harvey
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We tried so hard to make things better for our kids
that we made them worse.
For my granchildren I'd like better.
I'd really like for them to know about hand-me down clothes
and homemade ice cream and leftover meatloaf homemade ice cream
and leftover meatloaf sandwiches. I really would.
My cherished grandson,
I hope you learn humility by being humiliated and that you learn honesty
by being cheated.
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I hope you learn to make your bed and mow the lawn and wash the car.
And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen.
I hope you have a job by then.
It will be good if at least one time you can see a baby calf 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.
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.
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On rainy days when you have to catch a ride,
I hope your driver doesn't have 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.
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I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books.
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When you learn to use those newfangled computers,
I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head.
I hope you get razzed by your friends
when you have your first chrush on a 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.
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I hope you get sick when someone blows cigar smoke in your face.
I don't care if you try 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 the joy of holidays.
I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball
through a neighbour's window
and that she hugs you and kisses you at Christmas time
when you give her a plaster-of-paris mold of your hand.
These things I wish for you -
tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness.
Written with a pen, sealed with a kiss.
Your Grandfather.
Last updated 2000.5.25