A Letter to My Younger Self

After a few years of slogging in the standup clubs for peanuts, I kind of jerry-rigged my standup act to serve as a “motivational” talk for corporations and ladies’ conferences. The standup club which gave me my start – for which I will be forever grateful – paid $65/a WEEK for a 20-minute set Tuesday night, Wednesday night, Thursday night, two shows Friday night, two shows Saturday night and a Sunday matinee.

And trust me, those second shows on the weekend were a real treat. The people who were young enough to think a 10:30 comedy show was a good idea were already blind drunk and in the mood to heckle. And the older crowd who thought they would be able to stay awake until midnight after a long work-week were just mistaken.

We had to take tickets and seat people, too, and greet them when the show was over, just like the airline stewardesses. (“Buh- bye; buh-bye, thanks for coming…”)

If you look right into a person’s eyes and say “Thanks for coming,” it is almost impossible for them not to say, “Good show!” So there’s THAT!

The proprietor, bless his heart, and may he Rest In Peace, thought that Colonel Parker was missing the boat when he only prized a 50% commission out of Elvis. But, honestly, I am not resentful. Without that springboard, none of the rest of my success would have happened.

Willie Sutton said he robbed banks because “that’s where the money is.” Corporate banquets, and conferences paid $4,000 for one half-hour set to $10,000 for two different 40-minute talks within the three days of a conference. Hmmmm…six shows a week for $65.00 OR two for $10K? You pick which you’d rather do. Unless you were dropped on your head – daily – as an infant, you will choose wisely.

The framework for my motivational talk was how important laughter is to one’s physical and mental health. After a few health and science references, I just went ahead and did my normal comedy set. I might add that I could make the transition from club to corporate venue because my act was squeaky clean.

One clever type of architecture for a motivational talk was “what I would tell my younger self if I had the chance.” Mostly those talks included a lot of upbeat lessons learned like “Don’t sweat the small stuff” and “Everything is small stuff.” Well, NO, it isn’t. There are huge, heart-breaking, devastating things that happen to a person. But we’ll let that go for the moment. My take on this theme will be a bit less upbeat, but hopefully, amusing. Ready?

Hey there, kid. Why the long face? Did you end up going to The Prom with just a nice, male pal, not the guy you hoped would ask you? I bet you think I’m going to tell you that the hurt you feel now will not matter in the future. But some hurt, although muted, lasts a long time.

I have been loved and adored by a beautiful, smart, funny, kind, generous man for over sixty years – imagine that! – and it STILL hurts a little that I didn’t get asked to the damn Prom by my then-heartthrob.

But, hey, the guy you hoped would ask you to the Prom had a big problem with substance abuse in later life. Probably from vast surging regret for not asking you out. So, it turns out you dodged a bullet!

The future is going to be a crazy place, kid, and the key word for you to take to heart is “resilience”. There are going to be things you will not believe when I tell them to you, and I don’t mean just about technology which will knock your socks off.

For example, the day will come when you will stagger out of bed, having been kept awake for hours from a caterwauling cat in heat expressing the very same physical longing for a “date” that you may be feeling right now.

But, here’s the funny part: it will be 6:30 a.m. and you will think, “Holy Cow, I’ve over-slept and now half the day is already gone!” I realize your wonderful farm-girl mother believes that any slug-a-bed who “slept in” on Saturday until 8 a.m. was “just plain lazy” and probably also in a state of mortal sin.

But some day, trust me on this, you will eat supper at 4:30 p.m., go to bed at 9:00 and read for 10 minutes before falling asleep while the book slides to the floor. So 6:30 will, indeed, feel like a very late time to arise.

Moving right along, you probably should take more courses in Math and Science to become a more well-rounded, better-educated person. But, on balance, it honestly won’t matter much. Marry someone who can deal with the tsunami of Information Technology (yeah, that will be a thing) coming your way and concentrate on learning to cook. Cooking will take you far.

You are NOT going to die tragically and young, no matter how hard you try. You are going to live far too long to die young. You are hoping to become a writer and I’m happy to tell you that that is going to happen! First, you will just TYPE words for a couple of decades. Don’t give up! That skill will not only pay the bills, but will enable you to write really fast when that opportunity arises at last.

Right now you pride yourself on learning grammar, syntax, all those things your excellent English teachers thought were valuable. Oh, they will come in handy for your columns. But, at some point, you will own a tiny phone that is NOT attached to the wall with a long twisted up cord. Well, hang onto your hat, because you will HOLD THAT MINIATURE PHONE IN YOUR HAND! Every waking minute of your day! Well not YOU, specifically. But most people. You will usually not even know where yours is. Which will annoy your future husband.

You will not only be able to take pictures with it – pictures that will not have to be taken to the drugstore or camera store to be developed – but you will have the ability to reach out and “text” people. If you use proper grammar – especially punctuation – you will only be mocked by your son. You will have 3-letter abbreviations galore and if that is too much trouble, just little pictures, including a little brown swirly picture that represents poo. I do not lie.

Oh, that phone will also have a video device on it and nothing will ever be secret again. The videos will be “uploaded” to something called “YouTube” on another thing called The Internet and you will be able to watch women fight at The Waffle House because the cashier was not allowed to give them an extra syrup packet. Sometimes gunfire will be involved, so better just to avoid Waffle House, which in any event, is always sticky. Also, get a gun.

On the plus side, I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to inform you that you will have your Mama and Daddy until they are in their mid-90s. Seriously! At some point when you are married and they are living in Florida, Daddy, at 70, will be diagnosed with both diabetes and prostate cancer on the same doctor visit! He will be very depressed and pessimistic about it.

For the next 20 years, when you call him in Florida and ask him how he’s doing, he will say, “I’m a goner!” But – spoiler alert! He’s not. He won’t even lose a digit or his eyesight from the diabetes no matter how much crap he eats. And his prostate cancer will just sit there, for over a quarter of a century doing nothing like a pretend conservative Senator.

There’s so much I could warn you about, but since I already know you’re going to do it anyway, it seems kind of futile. This must be how God feels a lot of the time. But there is one thing for sure: If a little garden gnome of a flak for the pharmaceutical industry tells you to take a pretend vaccine, DO NOT DO IT.

You’ve already taken the Smallpox vaccine – one and done – and you will never ever get Smallpox. You’ve already stood in line in the elementary school gym for the polio shot and then the oral variety – twice and done – and you not only didn’t faint or even cry, but you also never got polio. That’s because those were REAL VACCINES.

People will tell you that aging is a gradual “process”, but it will feel more like you are doing fine one day – able to bend over without feeling faint; able to look up without vertigo; able to lift the 20-lb container of kitty litter into your grocery cart and then the trunk; able to remember the name of that guy who was in that thing – and then suddenly, you can’t do any of that.

Embrace the catch-phrase of William Bendix in the television show, The Life of Riley: “What a revoltin’ development this is!”

But, when God shuts a door, we are assured, He opens a window which turns out to be a good thing. Because when your memory goes bad, and those synapses and neurons and protons, chromosomes, corpuscles and such – man, seriously, think about taking more science! -- that used to be employed in your Memory Factory are “laid off,” they do not just sit there collecting Unemployment. No. They are re-purposed to produce intestinal gas. So, the open window will come in very handy.

You are going to be very very lucky, young lady, and live an almost-magical life. So, do not stress over-much about the stupid Prom. You will meet so many wonderful, brilliant, funny, tragic, interesting, kind, generous, multi-talented people. Some you will know briefly and superficially; and some will roar through your life like a freight train. It will be a grand adventure, full of love and laughter, friendship, marriage and parenthood, near-poverty and wild success.

Oh one last thing. On March 8^th, 2016 -- write that down -- call Mama and talk for a very long time telling her in 100 different ways what a wonderful mother she has been. No particular reason. Just do it.