I think I was in college when I first heard Mary Schmich’s essay, “Wear Sunscreen” (attached below). I think I heard it over the radio, as it was read as a commencement speech. The essay, or the speech, is a series of simple but profound advice to the youths, about life and other important things. If you have never read it or it’s been a while since you last read it, I hope you will take the time to read it now, here. It’s pretty fantastic.
Two lines that made a mark on me were these: “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.” I have wondered sometimes if I would be a different person had I lived in NYC, even short term. Maybe I’ll still be the same, but probably not as “soft” as I am now.
Well, I may not live in NYC but I am so blessed that my work sends me to New York often. I was there last week for a few days in Brooklyn and as soon as I landed in John F. Kennedy Airport, I made a beeline to Purl Soho to check out beautiful yarns and fabrics. This is my ritual whenever I visit. After spending several hours browsing through the store (trust me, I can spend days there), I came back with several skeins of Blue Sky Alpaca in petunia to knit myself a wool scarf for autumn. Because it was raining and gloomy outside, I ended up spending many hours in my hotel room knitting away.
I know that there are so many exciting things to do in Manhattan and Brooklyn, but my favorite pastime is spending a relaxing and hassle-free time in a comfortable room and knit, while enjoying the beautiful skyscraper in the backdrop.
Oh boy, I am SUCH a softie. Super softie. Like the scarf.
Simple Ribbed Scarf
Size 9 needles. I used the Addi Turbo circular needle. It’s the best.
4 skeins of Blue Sky Alpaca yarn
Cast on 48 stitches on a size 9 needle. Knit 2 and Purl 2 all the way across (ending with a purl). Repeat this pattern until you reach the desired length. Bind off loosely and weave in all loose ends.
Note: It looks orange-y in these photos but the yarn is closer to rich pink than orange.
By Mary Schmich of the Chicago Tribune
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ’98: 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’ve 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 are 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 bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blind side you at 4 PM on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.
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 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.
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 of 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 your 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’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you 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.
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’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 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.