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Paul
Harvey Writes:
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 andwash 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 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 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
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.
Send
this to all of your friends. We secure our
friends, not
by accepting favors, but by doing them.
Paul
Harvey
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