Dear teenage me in the letter jacket with no letter

My daughter Emily has asked some friends to write a letter to their teenage self. She asked me, too. She has a new book, Graceful, for teenage girls. Even though I was a teenage guy, her book would have helped me. Here's my letter. 

Dear teenage me in the letter jacket with no letter,

Hi. You don't know me but I know you. Real quick, since you've got to get those groceries in the house:

The jacket is okay, but when you see the fluorescent orange socks at J.C. Penney, do NOT buy them. If you buy them, don't wear them. Same for the mock turtleneck and the dickey thing. If you do go crazy and have to wear them, do not wear them all at the same time. The black Converse high tops you get are okay, though--you can do those all your life.

Repeat after me, timeless not trendy . . . timeless not trendy.

And a bit more while Dad tinkers with the Instamatic . . .

You know how you feel guilty because you dilly-dally with your homework and read everything in your American history book except your assignment? Don't feel guilty. You're not lazy. You spend an extra hour on your homework--that's not lazy! You just like to follow your curiosity. Get used to it--you're going to do it the rest of your life. Satisfying curiosity is a good habit to get into.

If you're going to dream about being a major league ballplayer, please do something about it. Practice and try to get better. Don't just dream--this is a bad habit to get into.

Pick something to study in school. ANYthing. Just get going. You can change later. Whatever you pick will be better than never picking. Maybe your dad's right about that art stuff.

Learn to play golf now. You can enjoy it the rest of your life.

Keep picking the banjo. Seriously! You will not regret it. It may not seem cool but it can be whatever you make it later. If you just can't do it then pick another instrument.

Start journaling now. It will get you in the habit of paying attention to things and it will help you get better at writing to be understood. It might be forty-five years, but you'll be glad you did this.

When you meet that girl at the summer job after high school graduation in five years, don't break up with her twice for stupid reasons. She might not take you back the second time like she did me. Risky, buddy. Don't chance it.

Watch out for that first beer. There's a whole bunch more hiding behind it that will sneak up on you.

Consider starting a business.

Enjoy having hair on your head.

And that dog you're staring at? Don't get in his face when you snuggle him in that chair he sleeps in at the bottom of the stairs. If you do, wear a hockey mask. Trust me on this.

On second thought, ignore this letter. Tear it up and pitch it. The road you're on is the one marked out for you and it's a good one. No matter which way you go, it's a train wreck that God puts back together his way. I don't want you to miss a thing.

Your friend,

Gary

----

YOU can write a letter to your teenage self, too, and link up with everyone else writing letters this Friday. Here’s the place for the letters. And HERE’S the place for the book.

Comments

[Nester]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have no words.

You really wore a dickey? I thought those were just for Saturday Night Live skits!

LOVED this!

And you are so right about the Converse

[Dawn Martin]

That last paragraph is wonderful. So wise and true. Thanks for sharing this!

[Rebekah]

Holy moly! That last part got a sob out of me. That's truth right there.

[Gary]

Nester - Wore the dickey. And the orange socks--and pants were shorter then so you know, more glory.

[Gary]

Thanks Dawn!

[Gary]

Rebekah - I'll bet you'd keep your same journey (or most of it) too, wouldn't you. Thx

[Pam]

I love the way you write and how you're supporting Emily in hers. Love this idea of writing a letter to my teenage self. I scribbled away paragraph after paragraph while sitting in my front porch rocker yesterday. I left it tucked away in my journal, though and think that's where I'll keep it for now. Thanks for sharing yours : )

[Gary]

Pam - Thanks - and I double dog dare you to show it to someone!

[STACSMIT]

This was a very cool letter. I read your daughters' blogs and also I read your daughters first book. This was written so well, you have a nice way of writing and this letter seemed so at ease, I could imagine you talking to your teenage self. Thanks for sharing!

[emily freeman]

Your blog ate my comment I left earlier. I basically said you're a great writer and I only wish your letter was longer because I pretty much didn't want it to end.

And also I think you should make Mom write a letter. I'm dying to know what she would say.

[Gary]

Thanks Stacy!

[Gary]

Em -- chomp chomp. Thanks for the encouragement. I told your mom - she says she wants to write to her 30-year old self. I told her to write to her teen self warning her about her 30-year old self :)

[Natasha]

This letter made me smile. :)

[Joanna]

I hope you're going to participate in '31 days' again this year! I have tried numerous times to write you an email to express just how much Scary Hope meant to me. But I can't find the words. Your blog during '31 days' last year kicked off a wonderful year of scary hope for me. I still don't have any answers or conclusions, but the journey thus far has been life giving. Can't wait to hear what you might have to say this year!

[Gary]

Joanna -- thanks for the kind words! Glad you see scary hope as a wonderful journey cuz it sure is. Yes I'm doing 31 days this year, and I hope you are too.

[Online GED Diploma]

I love watching old pictures

[Alyson Cooney]

I've been biting my tongue for some time trying not to tell you that I don't think those were groceries. I think they were bags of Easter booty. I don't believe I was ever dressed in red velvet to go to the grocery store. You would think I would have something more philosophical or inspirational to say about your post, but the bags are what was on my mind.

OK, that and I'm waiting for a new post.♥