Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen)
It's all over the radio these days, but because I like it and think it bears repeating...
Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '99. Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen
would be it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have
been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice
has no basis more reliable than my own meandering
experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind; you
will not understand the power and beauty
of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20
years you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a
way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you
and how fabulous you really looked. You're not as fat as
you imagine.
Don't worry about the future -- or worry, but know that
worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra
equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your
life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried
mind; the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle
Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up
with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy -- sometimes you're
ahead, sometimes you're behind... the race is long, and in
the end it's only with yourself.
Remember the compliments you receive, forget the
insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank
statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do
with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't
know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some
of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium.
Be kind to your knees; you'll miss them when they're
gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't; maybe you'll have
children, maybe you won't; maybe you'll divorce at 40,
maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th
wedding anniversary... Whatever you do, don't
congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either --
your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don't be
afraid of it, or what other people think of it; it's the
greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but in your
own living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you
feel ugly.
Get to know your parents -- you never know when they'll
be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings -- they are the
best link to your past and the people most likely to stick
with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but for the
precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the
gaps in geography and in lifestyle, because the older you get
the more you need the people you knew when you were
young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes
you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave
before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: prices will rise,
politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when
you do you'll fantasize that when you were young prices
were reasonable, politicians were noble and children
respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have
a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse, but you
never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by time it's 40 it
will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with
those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia,
dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal,
wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it
for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
Originally written in 1997 by Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich as a mock graduation speech, recorded and performed by Baz Luhrmann.
