In June of 2008, what feels like a lifetime ago, I was graduating high school. A good friend of mine, in honour of the occasion, made me two mixed CD's called Songs of Encouragement Pt. I & II. In my foolish exuberance of feeling liberated and not at all concerned about needing encouragement, I gave them a listen, but nothing struck me as applicable to my situation.
When over a year later the novelty of being a new graduate, and a University freshman, had long worn off, the idea of encouragement was much more welcomed. I popped the discs back into the CD player of my Daewoo, and this is what I heard:
Wear sunscreen.
What I was hearing was director Baz Luhrmann's studio adaptation of an article written by Mary Schmich in The Chicago Tribune in 1997. Her article, which was set to the tune of Everybody's Free (To Feel Good) by Zimbabwean songstress Rozalla, outlines a series of common (and not-so-common) advice we should apply to ourselves in order to lead fulfilled and happy lives. Obviously if you know me, you are familiar with my set of beliefs, and that I believe there are much greater resources and relationships from which to derive happiness and fulfillment, however her article is relevant nonetheless. Besides, what can pick you up faster than sound advice in the form of a pop song.
Now, years later, I still listen to this track from time to time, whenever I need to be reminded to -- pause, reset -- get out of my comfort zone, continue challenging myself, re-establish my priorities in life, and just provide myself with a little re-orientation. Even still will I get the occasional tear in my eye at some of the more sentimental points in the verse (embarrassing!)
Just in case you are the one person on the planet who isn't familiar with this article-turned-pop song, I have included it below for you to also love and learn from.
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 blindside you at 4 p.m. 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 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 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.
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'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.
he doesn't see me any differently than he sees you,
despite what you've tried to have me believe.
you love me just the same. i am not intrinsically less valuable than my male counterparts.
that night i cried, because the god i had always known didn't exist.
or so i thought.
but it only lasted a moment until he was there, reminding me that who he was, he still is and will be.
The song "The Way I Was Made" by Griffin House never fails to fill me with pride about my family every time I hear it. From the resilient Ukrainian farmers on my dad's side to the brave, and often stubborn, European immigrants on my mom's side, the stories of my heritage remind me where I came from and who I am. Anyone who really knows me will know that I AM my family, for better or for worse. My passion, my drive, my stubbornness, and my temper can all be traced generations back in time. Eventually I am going to write a post about the stories of my mom's family, and the generation that brought that side of my family to Canada, but for now I'd like to talk about my dad's family.
My dad's parents, my Baba and Gido, were both a perfect match and polar opposites. My Gido was determined, strong-willed, and obstinate, while my Baba was peaceful, peace-loving, and compassionate. I am incredibly proud of both of their characters. I'm also proud to say that I inherited many of my Gido's personality traits (again: for better or for worse).
Unfortunately, they both passed away (my Gido in August 2009 and my Baba on New Year's Day, 2011), but the legacies they both left on our family is everlasting.
For someone who has always been far closer to my Gido than my Baba in personality traits, it was both surprising and comforting, not to mention a source of pride, to hear the comparisons made between myself and her at her funeral.
Also unfortunate is the fact that I was able to learn so much more about what made my Baba so incredible at her funeral, and I thought it a shame for me to learn it upon her passing. One phrase that kept being mentioned was that my Baba was a "prayer warrior"; she was a woman who the people in her town would call upon in the direst of situations, and her and her prayer group saw many miracles. She was a faithful servant of God, and I can't remember a time that we entered their home without seeing her flipping through the pages of her well-worn Bible.
My Baba prayed for me everyday, she would always tell me on the phone. It was also such a comfort to me, and I always thought if God hears anyone's prayers, he hears my Baba's.
For my family of four specifically, my Baba's legacy is one of a faithful servant and a woman who truly knew how to love everyone, including her enemies. As a result, we've been trying to follow her example. I am my Gido through and through, and so learning to forgive, and to step down or back (even when I am right) to show compassion and mercy is something I am working on. Don't misunderstand, I am so proud of my Gido's personality, he didn't put up with anything from anyone, stood up for himself and his family, and was also an incredible man of God, but I know that it's important to strive to be both strong-willed and loving, determined and forgiving.
It was incredibly hard for my entire family to lose them, but I know that my Gido and my Baba, more than anyone I know, looked forward to the day when they met their saviour.
Also, both were so generous, and always gave all that they could to serve God, as well as to take care of their family. I remember something my dad said at their 50th wedding anniversary (that I saw on tape, I was only a baby!). The MC of the anniversary had been going on and on about how little my Baba and Gido had, and it had frustrated my dad that he was focusing on what little in life they had instead of celebrating them. So when my dad got up to make a speech, he said, "My parents may have not had much while I was growing up, but I never would have known it." Needless to say, I have incredible pride for my family, and I strive to become even a quarter of the person that my Gido and Baba were.
Xira, my Gido's aunt.
My Baba, the beautiful bride, and her brothers and sisters
My handsome Gido (left), and a friend
Baba and Gido
Baba, Gido and my young dad at their anniversary
My dad the troublemaker (right) with a friend
My dad (right) and his brother (notice the worn down pants and mischievous look!)
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