By G.D. Maxwell
Dear Nicole:
High school graduation? Say it ain’t true. How can you be old enough to be graduating from high school? It seems such a short time ago my brother said he was going to have a baby, that is to say your mother was going to have a baby, his role in the whole process being, shall we say, limited to the preliminaries and taking videos once the main feature – you – arrived.
Being my parents’ first grandchild, you were, of course, perfect. Or at least you were expected to be. Tough billing to live up to but you seemed to pull it off. I’m sure it helped when your sister came along. I mean, babies are cute and everything but they’re hardly entertaining unless you’re one of those people who like to go on and on about various excremental experiences. Even a toddler has a big leg up, cognitively speaking, over a baby. I won’t go into the whole first grandchild syndrome but let’s face it kid, sometimes nothing beats coming first.
And now you’re the first to graduate the hell that is high school. For that, you have my admiration. That you’ve managed to do it without deep psychic scarring, a substance-abuse problem, becoming a gang member or morphing into one of those airhead math-is-hard chicklets is testament to your deep inner strength probably more than your nurturing environment, not to discount a nurturing environment but really, how many nicely-nurtured buds do you have who seem destined to be trailer park losers?
I don’t know if high school is as bad now as it was in the Dark Ages when I served my sentence there but from all indications, it’s probably worse. The only major obstacles I had to avoid were drugs, alcohol, jocks and indifferent teachers. From what I hear and read, you’ve had it even worse. Well Nicky, and this is the good news, university is much, much better.
Or, like so many things in life, it can be just as bad… or worse. It’s pretty much your choice though. Well, choices really. Lots of choices; all yours to make. It’ll be a refreshing change from what’s gone on so far in your life, which has mostly consisted of having other people make choices for you.
On balance, while it would have been nice watching you grow up and getting to know you better, I don’t regret having been absent most – all – of your life. Between the abysmal Age of Reagan, Bush the First’s Thousand Points of Light and Bush: The Sequel, it’s not like I really felt comfortable south of the 48 th Parallel. With Patriot Act I & II laying waste to the Constitution and Bill of Rights, hell, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to get across the border later this year to congratulate you in person.
But look at it this way, you’ve avoided 18 years of me giving you totally un-asked for advice.
Because of that reprieve, I feel completely justified laying this avuncular rap on you now. So here goes.
First, go to school away from home. Yeah, I know, you’ve already decided to do that but don’t waver; stick to your decision. Nothing against your folks; they’re nice enough people. But life’s easier – that is to say it’s easier to find your own life – once you’ve escaped the pull of parental gravity. Trust me, the lure of getting your laundry done for free isn’t worth it.
Don’t be too quick to decide what you want to major in. True, time is money, honey, but this is your life. You’re probably too young to really know what you want to do and besides – this is the good part – university isn’t about getting a job; it’s about getting an education… only part of which takes place inside the classroom. So enter through the portals of higher learning with an open, inquisitive, self-motivated mind.
Don’t look on all the Intro to Whatever courses as dull, meaningless, feedlots of learning. Yes, that’s largely what they are, you and 600 of your closest friends crammed into an amphitheatre being taught by a grad student or, worse yet, watching grainy videotapes of some professor sleepwalk through a course she’s taught several dozen times before. But overcome the mundane. Take a seat in the front row. Take as few notes as possible and listen to what’s being said. If you find it interesting, head to the library and find out more about it because – second really good part – that’s where the bulk of your formal education will take place. Not the classroom or lab.
While we’re on that particular topic, befriend a librarian. He or she will be invaluable and save you so much time you won’t believe it. The Internet is cool and fast but it is to a good library what carob is to chocolate – a pale substitute. Let the librarian teach you how to play the library like the fine instrument it is and it’ll repay your efforts manifold times for the rest of your life.
Take hard courses. Take enough science to either know you hate it or love it; the world doesn’t need another psychologist. Take a broad smattering of humanities; if nothing else, they’ll make you much more interesting to talk to at a cocktail party. Get involved in radical politics. Hang with liberals; hang with conservatives; engage in something you think you don’t believe in; avoid groupthink. Find your inner artist. Avoid sororities.
And, how to say this, um, about romance. Consider university as strictly catch-and-release. There’s nothing more pathetic than married student housing unless it’s married students themselves. As much as it pains me to say this, any guy you meet at university who says he wants to marry you is just looking for someone to do his laundry. Drop the loser like a bad habit. Better yet, phone the local FBI office and tell them you think he’s part of a sleeper cell; they’ll get rid of him for you.
And I would be remiss if I didn’t share with you the single best "Drop Dead, Loser" line I ever heard. Unwanted advances come with the territory of being a gorgeous woman, which you are. Some guys won’t take no for an answer. Look those guys softly in the eyes and tell them, "Thanks anyway, Sugar, but I’ve already got one a**hole in my pants."
Don’t ask me how I know about that line.
While all this is going on, have fun. Find something you’re passionate about and make it your life’s work. Well, at least your early life’s work. Phone home, eat good food and don’t drink until you pass out. At least not often.
Sincerely,
Your absent but only uncle.
