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Recently an ornery and overly judgmental finger puppet joined us for dinner. He looks like a wizard dog (or a dog wizard?) but apparently he thinks he’s human. And he’s mean. Despite this, he has a girlfriend. His name is Zachary.
Zoe developed Zachary’s character. He is annoying and irascible. On purpose. Zoe just calls him mean. Zachary says things like “I hate your dress! It’s too pink!” or “I don’t like your purse because it has flowers on it!” He insults all that is pretty and girly and kind, or that which Zoe generally embraces. Zoe scolds him and corrects him, or asks us to do so.
The other night Zoe made up a story in which aliens come and kidnap a baby and kill it and bury its heart. Randy asked her if she knew what that was or why they were doing that. She said they were mean. I would venture to say evil or demonic. But for sure they’re mean.
When I picked Zoe up from my parents’ house today she reported that she and my dad were playing mean little brother, in which my dad–directed entirely by her–was the mean little brother and she was the sister. She was protecting her baby (daughter or sister? not clear) from the mean brother, who said things like “I’m going to eat all your food and take all your toys.” She would stroke the baby’s cheek and reassure her that she would be ok and the brother wouldn’t hurt her.
Randy and I were slightly amused by Zachary, and somewhat disturbed and perplexed by the infanticide. Zoe loves babies more than anything else in the world, why would she want to pretend someone was killing or hurting one? Where did she even get the idea? My mom suggested that in Snow White, the Queen asks the huntsman for Snow White’s heart to prove that she’s dead. I guess I forgot that part. When Zoe asks me to tell the stories, they are somewhat smoothed over. My parents have the actual book.
I finally got up the nerve to ask Zoe why she liked pretending that someone was mean. She is never the mean one. It’s always someone else. My mom says she is usually cast in a variety of evil queen roles. Zoe said “I like to fight people.” But not fight as in fisticuffs. “I like to protect people from the mean people. It makes me feel special.”
So she has created bad guys so she can more easily be the heroine and rescuer. I guess this makes sense. I admire the fact that she wants to protect others. I don’t even understand where she has gotten these ideas of meanness, since she has been exposed to very little meanness in her life as far as I know. Maybe that’s why she has to fabricate it, and perhaps that’s a good thing. If Zachary’s meanness emphasizes insulting fashion choices and femininity and as long as the threats to babies are aliens, maybe that indicates there are few actual threats, so she has to invent them. And if she’s doing it to practice saving the day, I’m down with that.
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I’m writing my thank you notes to folks who donated to the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life on my behalf. The event was, just like last year, outstanding. My dad and Randy and I walked alongside 1,000 others, collectively raising $165,000. We heard an amazing young man–a theatre major at Georgetown–talk about his battle with cancer that began at age 14. We remembered those we have lost and honored those who have been or still are fighting the good fight. Thank you to all of you for your support, whether it was financial or moral. Here’s what our event accomplished. This is taken from an email I received from the event chairs.
What can $165,000 do for those facing cancer and those working to find cures? The amount our event raised can provide so many things:
- 275 more days of the 1-800-ACS-2345 hotline service for patients and caregivers looking for support and answers.
- 66 scholarships of $2500 for young cancer Survivors.
- 1100 more stays at a Hope Lodge, easing the financial and emotional burden on patients traveling out of town for treatments.
- 550,000 test tubes or 16,500 Petri dishes for researchers to use to find cures.
Until next year…
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My Love Letter to AUCP
When Zoe was born I began to receive advice from friends with children—“apply to preschools right away—they’re very hard to get into around here!” Never one to ignore a cautionary tale, when Zoe was almost a year old I started preschool shopping, expecting to apply and be waitlisted and have her start school at two. We applied to three preschools and I definitely loved AUCP most—expansive classrooms and all that natural light! Despite being in the lower level of the church, AUCP was the only one that didn’t feel like a church basement. And Randy was an AUCP alum and my mother-in-law had been a co-oper! Much to my surprise, we were offered a spot in the Panda class right away, and Zoe started at AUCP when she was 17 months old. I still remember that before-school Panda gathering on the AUCP playground, and watching other small girls toddle around the sandbox with Zoe, thinking we couldn’t possibly be starting preschool.
Now I can’t believe we can possibly be leaving preschool. Zoe is five and while we are excited about kindergarten (she’ll be attending Abingdon in the fall) we are sad to be leaving AUCP. I don’t want to bring it up too much with Zoe (thank you for the advice, Ms. Susan) but I know I’m sad. I will be leaving my friends too. While I’m sure some of us will stay in touch, there’s no replacing the daily conversations in the lobby, chats on the playground, and sympathetic looks you get in the hallway at pick-up or drop-off when your child is going berserk. I am sad to be leaving a place where I know I can trust any grown-up in sight to watch out for my child, even if I don’t know that person’s name. I am sad to be leaving a place where I am confident that all the grown-ups will be kind to and patient with my child. I am sad to be leaving a place where grown-ups and kids alike can be as creative as they wish, treat each other with respect, and have so much fun. I can think of few places in the real world where process is valued so much more than product.
My heart is filled with love and gratitude for all of Zoe’s teachers over the past four years. They have taught me as much as they have Zoe. I am thankful for Ms. Elizabeth’s boundless love and patience and her willingness to always greet a child at child eye level and that she remembers everyone who was ever a Panda. I am thankful for Mr. Peter’s sense of humor and the effort he put into creating learning opportunities for the kids. I am thankful for Ms. Aasma’s infectious enthusiasm and zest for life and for the fact that she never misses an opportunity to stop what she is doing and give Zoe a hug whenever she sees her. I am thankful for Ms. Patricia’s steadfast serenity in the midst of chaotic children and the insightful questions she asks them. I am thankful for Ms. Julie’s thoughtful planning and her ability to teach our children how to greet her and each other with lovely manners. I am thankful for Ms. U’s inspirational creativity and the countless hours she must spend at home preparing unbelievably cool art projects for our kids. I am thankful for Ms. Susan’s constant sense of calm and friendliness that she infuses into the entire school. Her advice and wisdom, which usually boils down to, “Listen, it’s going to be ok. You’re going to be ok, your child is going to be ok. It’s ok” has reassured me many, many times throughout the past four years. Sometimes when you’re in the middle of some craziness with your child it’s impossible to believe it’s going to be ok. But Susan, you’re right.
I am thankful for the parents who did nice things for Zoe when you co-oped. I am thankful for the parents who told me she was ok during the various periods of separation anxiety when I would have to physically hand Zoe to a parent or teacher while she screamed and I tried to make my exit without breaking down myself. I am thankful to the parents who made and delivered meals to us when Zoe had surgery. I am thankful for anyone who ever spotted Zoe on the monkey bars, risking back pain for the rest of the day. I am thankful for Ms. Susan, Ms. Patricia, and Ms. Aasma welcoming Zoe (and us) back with open arms after our time away. I am thankful to all the parents who supported us and loved us when we came back. I am thankful that no one ever complained when Zoe had an accident and no one ever made her feel bad about it. I am thankful for the friendship, the commiseration, the advice. I am thankful that I’ve always known you all have my back.
I’ve often said that co-oping—for me—is like going to the gym. I don’t especially want to do it, and it’s usually really hard while I’m doing it, but afterward I’m really glad I did it and I know I’m a better person for it. I have learned from other parents and all of Zoe’s teachers and Ms. Raylene, Ms. Diann, and Ms. Susan smart and interesting ways of being with children I would never have thought of myself. I value the fact that I’ve had the opportunity to get to know Zoe’s classmates and friends much better than if I weren’t in the classroom on a regular basis. I love that I’ve had the chance to work alongside parents with so many different ideas and attitudes and learned a lot from all of them. And co-oping has also given me the wonderful opportunity to talk with other teachers besides Zoe’s. I have loved every continuing education event I’ve attended and (I know I’m a nerd) I love the fact that we are required to always be learning about kids.
Our family is so lucky to have been members of the AUCP family for the past four years. Thank you for your unconditional love. We will miss you. Hopefully someday we’ll be back. We’ll send you a postcard from kindergarten.
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In one week I will be participating in the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life. ACS is not political. ACS simply works to find a cure for cancer, improve treatments, educate people to prevent cancer, and provide compassionate, life-saving care.
I am walking in the Relay for my dad, who is a prostate cancer survivor. I am walking for my Aunt Judy, who had breast cancer and died before any of us knew she was sick. I am walking for friends who have overcome breast cancer, colon cancer, endometrial cancer, and testicular cancer. And I’m walking for friends who aren’t here anymore to walk beside me.
Please join me in saving lives. Thank you.
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Tonight I sat next to my mom in a synagogue listening to John Irving repeat the phrase “anal sex” many times from the podium.
This should not have been surprising, because my mom and I have both read all of John Irving’s books, and they all describe—and in many cases focus on—a variety of sexual practices and situations. My mom says he talks about sex in an amusing way. Irving describes himself as being “drawn to sexually extreme situations.”
Fortunately my mom did not seem fazed by this, and I kept my eyes mostly trained toward the front of the sanctuary. We’re both grown-ups, right?
Irving was reading from his new novel In One Person, about the coming of age of a bisexual man. He remarked when he first began to speak—haltingly—that he was glad to hear about President Obama’s endorsement of marriage equality today, although in his opinion it came too late. Irving said that when he wrote The World According to Garp in 1978 he expected that it would eventually become a relic of a time when our nation was sexually intolerant, and he is chagrined that it’s not the case, and that this new book takes on a different topic but the same challenge of a society that has a hard time knowing what to do with anyone who is outside what we perceive to be the sexual norm.
One of the questions Irving answered after the reading was why he writes about incest so often. No more than Sophocles, he answered, who wrote three plays about it.
Irving said he likes to write with sympathy about characters who would be decidedly unsympathetic when plastered across a tabloid headline. “The more any of us is made to feel like a minority, the harder it is to accept who we are,” he said.
Many interviewers have asked him about why he made the main character of In One Person bisexual, and Irving said that choice seems much more normal to him than some of the sexually extreme characters he’s written before, such as Nurse Jenny in Garp who hates men and has sex only one time, with a comatose patient. Or Johnny Wheelright in A Prayer for Owen Meany who is a closeted gay man who never has sex at all.
“It’s a whole lot easier for me to imagine having sex with everybody than to have sex once and then stop, or never have sex at all,” he said.
He talked a bit—reluctantly—about his own mother, in response to a question about the mother figures in his books. She was a nurse’s aid in a center that cared for abused women, he explained, and she had a “sharp judgmental eye toward men.”
Another audience member asked him why he liked bears so much, since they often figure prominently in Irving’s books. “I don’t like bears at all,” he said, “I don’t invite them into my house.” And he went on to explain that bears are dangerous and people who get mauled by them are stupid for thinking they are Disney-esque creatures who are thoughtfully regarding the nearby humans, vs. animals with poor eyesight who can’t see what you are.
Speaking of poor eyesight, he mentioned a reading he gave once in Vancouver in which he received two questions directed toward Margaret Atwood. He said he tried to answer them as he thought Atwood, who is a friend, would have. He said when he returned to the States he received a “rather cold letter from her saying that was NOT how she would have answered those questions.”
Irving also recounted a strange correspondence he enjoyed with John Updike, because a couple times a year each of them would receive a package of fan letters actually intended for the other one. “Well, John is a fairly common name,” Updike postulated to Irving at one point.
While Irving maintains he has no favorites among his characters, he referred often to Cider House Rules, which seemed to mark a turning point in his career. He said while he wrote his first four books he was also coaching wrestling and teaching English literature to earn a living. After that, he was able to support himself as an author and over the course of writing The Hotel New Hampshire, figured out how to do it. During Hotel New Hampshire he would write for about two hours and then get distracted, and was terribly disappointed with himself. When it was over, he had developed a process. Now he writes sveen or eight hours a day, seven days a week, which he says is “a great luxury.”
He says he loves the writing process, and that you have to love the details to be a writer. He compared it to wrestling, as both require teriffic repetition and attention to small details. “You must love the process more than you love the end of the match or producing a book,” he said. When you do these unnatural acts over and over, they become second-nature and they look natural to the outside. But in the meantime, it’s not always easy. In wrestling, he said, you’re dealing over and over with “the same small number of sparring partners whom you could find in the dark by their smell. And that’s not a compliment.”
“I don’t have a lot of fun writing a novel,” he explained, because when he writes, he’s imagining the worst thing he could think of happening to him or someone he loves, and is determined to explore it. “What’s the thing you don’t want to happen?” he asks. That’s where the book lies.
The worst piece of writing advice he’s ever heard, Irving said, is Ernest Hemingway’s “Write what you know,” which he called “blowhard bullshit.”
“How could you read Hemingway and want to be a writer?” he asked.
On the other hand, he champions Herman Melville’s philosophy: “Woe to him who seeks to please rather than appall.” Mr. Irving, I think you have succeeded. And thank you.
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This is #3 in my series (it’s catching on!) of letters in which people give advice to their 16-year-old selves. This is by our friend Michael, who is a lovely person and a terrific photographer. He took the photos at our wedding and did a fun photo shoot with Zoe at the National Building Museum when she was three.
Dear Michael:
I’m going to make this letter very simple and unadorned with any special old-guy wisdom, knowledge or self-aggrandizing. I’m just going to tell you what I know about your family, and tell you what I think you should do about it.
Your mom does not like being a mom. She would rather have a life that is more under her full control, which is impossible when you’re a mom. Because of this, she gets frustrated and she lashes out at you and your sister. She lashes out because she is not happy. She does not lash out because of who you are and what you do, although it sure feels like it, doesn’t it? It would be helpful if you let her be who she is, but not let it bother you or take it personally, because it is not personal. Despite her challenges, she loves you very much and she will always be at your side. Always.
Your dad sure does like to give advice, doesn’t he? But he doesn’t really seem to want to know what’s in your head, does he? You could be deeply, deeply affected by how he wants you to turn out, or how you think he wants you to turn out. I think that you think that he thinks that the best thing is to not think much at all, or better still, to not feel much at all; most certainly, not to express what you’re feeling. However, you, like everyone on earth, are a very deeply feeling person, and it is OK – more than OK, it’s GREAT – to have your feelings, to think about them, and to share them with people. People will value that quality very much. Much more than what you think your dad thinks a man should be. If you’re right about what you think he thinks a man should be, then he might not be right. But, you might not be right about what you think he thinks anyway. So just do what feels right for you and don’t worry about him. He loves you very much and will always – always – be right at your side.
Your twin sister is right by your side right now. Take as much as you can from her, and give as much back as you can. You probably don’t realize it, but she is giving you everything she possibly can, and she is deeply capable of giving. Lucky you. She will be giving you everything she possibly can for, …forever. Open your eyes. Give back. She is a bigger part of your life than you could ever imagine.
And a note about yourself. You’re an amazing person with a lot to give. You doubt yourself much more than you should. And you stifle your natural ability to think, feel and do, which are true gifts. People will miss out if you don’t just grab yourself and give him a hug and let go of what you think other people think you should think, feel and do. And look around at your family and just let your mom be difficult for her own reasons, and let your dad be the quiet, stoic one for his own reasons, but do all the thinking and feeling and loving that you want to do, for your own reasons. Understand how much you mean to your twin sister, and try to understand how much she means to you. Above all, love them all at face value, and love yourself, no matter who you are.
It gets better, beautiful child. A lot better.
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I can’t believe it’s been 22 years since I was 16. It’s been nothing if not a learning experience. Happy birthday to me.
Dear Betsy,
You should be nicer to boys. Even though it seems like the ones who fall in love with you are never the same ones you fall in love with, you could be a little kinder to them. They are taking your every word and action more seriously than you realize.
And yeah, it is frustrating that the guys you like don’t seem to get you, and that may not change for a while, but eventually you will find a man who understands you completely and adores you. This will happen later than you had planned, but in the meantime you will still have many adventures and kiss plenty of boys. Don’t worry.
You won’t be a journalist after all but you will be a writer and you will love your work. You know how you’ve always loved to interview people? You will continue to do that and get pretty good at it. Sometimes people you interview will cry. Sometimes they will make you cry. Don’t freak out. The ability to listen to and tell people’s stories is a gift.
You already love to volunteer but no one has ever told you that you could actually get a job and have a fulfilling career working with nonprofit organizations. You don’t even know the word nonprofit, but all those places where you volunteer are nonprofits. And being a candy striper will be great experience for working in a diverse environment and getting along well with different kinds of people. Despite having to carry around containers of urine, it’s worth it.
Please drive more carefully. Slow down. Even if you’re all giddy after a date, watch where you’re going. Boulevards have two sides. Don’t go down the wrong one.
It is ok if your friends graduate and move away. You are loyal, sometimes to a fault, and you will always be sad (sometimes devastated) when friends fall away from your life, but you will eventually make new ones, and thanks to the Internet, sometimes those lost friends will be found. The Internet is a technology that will change your life (and all of society). Friends will value your kindness and often reciprocate it. But sometimes they will be flaky. Try not to take it personally. Some people (most people?) are just not as obsessively proactive as you. That does not mean they don’t love you or they’re mad at you. Maybe they’re just lazy or busy but they still want to be your friend.
It might not be a bad idea to rent after you get married instead of buying, but oh well.
Believe it or not you will someday play soccer. You will love yoga. You will run races, albeit slowly. You may not be an Olympian but you will learn to enjoy sporty things. Stop believing people who say you are clumsy or uncoordinated. What do they know?
You’ve always wanted to be a mom and you will be a great one. It’s still not known how many kids you will have, and there will be some tough spots along the way, but you will have a spectacular little girl and have so much fun with her. You will not get to be a stay at home mom like you had expected, but it still works out ok because you make it work, and because your parents are awesome.
Oh yeah. You live not far from your parents. I know you swear you will not live in Northern Virginia when you grow up because you think Annandale is lame. You will move away after college, and be miserable, and come back. But don’t worry, you will discover a really cool place called Arlington that’s just 10 miles away from your parents’ but a mile from DC. It’s an excellent place to live and not lame. So never say never.
You should dye your hair a fun color while you have the chance. Later you will feel like you missed the window of opportunity.
Life is not easy, but you’ve still got a great one. You are lucky. You are blessed. Try to stop taking everything so freakin’ seriously. It will all work out.
Love,
Betsy
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I was back on my mat tonight, returning to yoga for the first time in a while. I didn’t mean to take a break, because I love yoga and always like how it makes me feel, but things happen and I haven’t been to class in months.
Yesterday I went to the gym. Also for the first time in months, but with the slightly more legitimate excuse of plantar fasciitis and a podiatrist who told me to stay off my feet. So my foot is better now.
What motivated me to get my tush in gear is my birthday, which is now mere hours away. If I don’t take care of myself, who will? No one else can give me that gift. I don’t have time to exercise. My life is stressful, with emphasis on the stress and the full. But I know what happens when you don’t take care of yourself, and it isn’t pretty. I have a ways to go before I could claim to be living some sort of healthful lifestyle, but I’ve got to start somewhere.
Where I’m starting now is giving this gift to myself. Starting tomorrow I am committing to meditating every day for the next month. It may be through yoga or just sitting down with those beads that are shoved to the back of a drawer. It may be five minutes of silence or a guided meditation or insight meditation with Sharon Salzberg on cd. But I will do something, whether or not I’m in the mood or exhausted. I’m giving that gift to myself of making time for peace, because no one else can do it for me.
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I am delighted to post another letter in the series, this time by my friend Rob, who I met freshman year when we lived on the same hall. He went on to date and then marry my friend Maia. And now he’s the author of an actual novel that many people have bought, read, and loved. You can find Rob here.
A Letter to My 16-Year Old Self
Hey.
I have a few things I need to tell you. Some will be really awesome (your wife is hot) and some will be hard (your dad is going to get Alzheimer’s much sooner than you, he, or anyone, is expecting), but these are things I think you would want to know:
Stop Chasing that Girl
You know who I’m talking about and it’s totally cool. There is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. You are giving it your best shot, but it isn’t going to work out. Ironically, the strategy you are pursuing is a great one. You are trapped in the “friend” zone. This is a terrible place to be in high school. It is, however, exactly where you want to be later in life. The problem isn’t your approach; it’s just not the right time or person. So don’t be discouraged and don’t worry so much about it.
Buy a Tape Recorder
You don’t know this now, but you are a pretty good reporter. I know, right? You aren’t even interested in journalism and the idea of calling people you don’t know makes you sweat. It’s okay. You are actually surprisingly good at asking the right questions to the right people.
By the time you figure this out, though, you will have lost the chance to interview some crucial sources. You need to buy a tape recorder and interview your grandparents extensively on your next visit to them. You want to learn as much as they can tell you about their lives. This is important for learning who they are, but also for understanding more about where you and your parents came from.
Spend More Time With Your Parents
Your dad is going to be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in about 15 years. The incredibly intelligent and gregarious guy you see right now? Enjoy him while you can, because he will disappear bit by bit until you have trouble remembering him. I’m sorry, but there isn’t a damn thing you can do about this. What you can do is set aside more time to hang out with him—and your mom. This is going to take a toll on her, too. This is a great time to be around both of them, so please enjoy it.
Stop Listening to Aerosmith
Right now. Later, you will refuse to throw out the 3-CD box set of “Pandora’s Box” because your dad gave it to you as a surprise gift, NOT because you ever want to listen to it.
Apply Early-Admission to William and Mary
I don’t know why you didn’t, but honestly, you never wanted to go anywhere else. Going here is a great choice—might as well lock it in right now.
Dream Bigger
You have a lot of hopes and dreams, but you have a tendency to worry about what’s “realistic.” Please stop. I know people think you want to be an actor—even you may think this—but you don’t. You do, however, want to write, and you’re largely afraid to admit this. You’ve been writing stories since the sixth grade and tucking them away, never showing them to anyone. You spend 50 percent of your time living in your imagination, thinking about novels you never even plan on writing. You have this strange idea that someone will come up to you and offer you a writing contract. I’ve got news for you: you are going to have to do this on your own. Don’t be too worried, though: it’s going to be fine. But you need to stop being intimidated about writing a book. Stephen King started when he was 17 years old. You should get a jump on him. Oh, and don’t worry about getting it published. Technology and a company named after a river in South America are going to solve that problem for you. Just focus on writing.
You Already Know Who You Are
If you ignore everything else in this message, I want you to know this: You are just fine as you are. I know you think you’re a nerd. But believe it or not, nerds are cool now. The last Star Trek movie was a huge hit, people love Lord of the Rings and there is a popular TV show about dorks. Weird, I know. It doesn’t matter anyway. You like to pretend that you don’t care what people think of you. It’s time to stop pretending. You will be much happier.
Sincerely,
Your 37-Year-Old Self
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This is the first guest post in what I hope will be a series: A Letter to My 16-Year-Old Self . Thank you to Kim for being inspired to write a letter and being willing to share it with me (and you). You can find more of Kim’s writing at Blooming Boy. I invite you to write a letter to your 16-year-old self. If you want, send it to me.
Dear 16-year-old Me,
You’re not fat. You are so not fat. I would gladly trade my body for yours.
You could read a lot more books if you didn’t spend so much time curling, teasing, and spraying your hair. Please stop immediately.
Your boyfriend is not the love of your life. And you are not the love of his. It’s really okay.
No matter what Madame Weigant says, do not bother taking the AP French exam.
Don’t wear so much makeup. You don’t need it. I know your Aunt Peggy spackles it on and you are emulating her, and that it’s still 1986 where you are. But you are pretty without it. On second thought, I would give anything to see Aunt Peggy and her blue eyeshadow again, so maybe you should go ahead and pull out the blusher. It’s not going to kill you. It didn’t kill her. That was something else entirely. Which reminds me, I’m glad you don’t smoke. Don’t start.
On a related note, don’t spend so much time arguing with your dad. Actually, scratch that too. Go ahead and argue with him. He’s pretty busy these days and isn’t paying enough attention to you. So talk back. Be sassy and sarcastic. Get his attention. Don’t make the mistake, however, of thinking that he doesn’t love you. Because he does. He really does. He’s doing the best he can. Try not to take him for granted, because he won’t live forever either. Enjoy all those Sunday breakfasts he likes to make for you.
It may seem like it now, but the Challenger explosion is not the biggest news story of your lifetime.
When it comes to college, don’t bother applying to UVA or Cornell or American. The University of Maryland is just fine, despite the whole Len Bias thing. Later, your heart will tug every time you spread out that tattered wool picnic blanket covered in Terrapins, which you will keep in the car and bring everywhere.
When you get to UMD, do not spend so much time pining after buffoons. Most of those guys do not deserve you. Or even if they do, they don’t deserve so much of you, so soon. Respect yourself.
While you’re there, try not to pick three majors that sound vaguely interesting or like something somebody ought to major in but don’t fire up your soul. Just save yourself and your college counselor the time and angst and choose a major based on what you love—reading and writing. (Just don’t expect to make any money.)
Love your friends, but don’t be sad if they drift away in the coming years. You will meet many more new friends at every stage of your life. Some of the old friends will come around again in surprising ways, and then before you know it, the new friends will be old ones too. Cherish the rich pageant of people you meet.
Also, and this is very, very important: There will be a tall guy with spiked hair who can’t stop looking at you at a recycling conference in Orlando in September 1997. Don’t laugh. There really are recycling conferences and you will actually go to one. Anyway, the spiked-hair guy. Pay attention to him. He figures prominently in your life story.
Finally, dear Kim, don’t worry about getting old. Here’s a secret: When you are my age, you will still feel much the same inside. You will still be you. Love yourself. Or, if you really don’t know how to do that yet, know that I love you from here. And I’m still looking out for you.
Kim
You Ask a Lot of Questions 