kindergarten – Letters to Will

Dear Will:

Sometime in the late ‘80s, the writer Robert Fulgham published an essay entitled “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” It was a remarkable little piece, down-home and introspective, filled with simple but profound counsel. Perhaps you remember it:

Share everything.

Play fair.

Don’t hit people.

Put things back where you found them.

Clean up your own mess.

Don’t take things that aren’t yours.

Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.

Wash your hands before you eat.

Flush.

Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

Live a balanced life—learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.

Take a nap every afternoon.

When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together. . . .

That essay was published long before the Internet and yet it still managed to go “viral,” as we say today. I still remember hearing it for the first time from the pulpit in the Westwood chapel in a talk given by a man named Michael Grilikhes. Imagine. It’s been over 20 years. . . .

Fulgham’s essay came to mind the other day while I was reading with my family from the third chapter of Luke, where we find the only record of what might be called the Gospel of John the Baptist. You’ll recall that John preached on the shores of the river Jordan, calling all to repent and be baptized. Like Fulgham’s, John’s counsel was profound in its simplicity (Luke 3:10-14):

10 And the people asked him, saying, What shall we do then?

11 He answereth and saith unto them, He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise.

12 Then came also publicans to be baptized, and said unto him, Master, what shall we do?

13 And he said unto them, Exact no more than that which is appointed you.

14 And the soldiers likewise demanded of him, saying, And what shall we do? And he said unto them, Do violence to no man, neither accuse any falsely; and be content with your wages.

Do you sometimes feel like living the Gospel of Jesus Christ is just too hard—that there are too many commandments and precepts and expectations? I think John offers a simpler view of the same thing. Six basic principles to live by: Say you’re sorry. Share. Be fair. Don’t hurt others. Be honest. Be content.

Six basic principles. Think how the world would be different—scratch that—think how your life would be different if you and those around you adhered to those simple teachings. The thought itself is so intriguing that my family and I have decided to take up that challenge and see how it might improve our lives together.

I’m excited to give that experiment a try. Why don’t you join us?

Dear Will:

Last week I found out I have to fly to Korea—one of those glamorous business trips during which you spend as much time going and coming as you do working. Should be awful.

Then I found out it is worse than I thought. The only way to get there in time for the meetings is to leave mid-day on Sunday, September 5. And when I arrive it will be Monday night. Labor Day will have disappeared altogether.

Cheer up, they told me. You get that day back on the return. That’s nice in theory, of course, but the truth is that I will have lost a 3-day weekend that I’m never getting back. And on Tuesday, while I’m schmoozing Koreans in Busan, my five-year-old Seth will be attending his first day of kindergarten. There’s something else I will miss that no crossing of the dateline will ever give me back. Let’s just say I’m not happy.

Seth, to his great credit, will hardly notice. The excitement of his new adventure will surely not have worn off by the time I drag back home on Wednesday night, just in time for . . . Back to School Night at Luke’s high school. I anticipate that the teachers I meet that night will find me charming if but a bit unkempt and maybe catatonic. What is it they say about having only one chance to make a good first impression? Luke’s teachers are sure to be dazzled.

Originally we had planned to spend Labor Day at the San Diego Zoo, but instead we’re going down on the Saturday before. No big deal except it means that I will miss my beloved UCLA Bruins’ opening football game, which I will tape and now watch—what?—a week later. Or probably not at all.

What a rough life I lead.

In contrast, my wife just had her third knee surgery last week. Afterward, the doctor informed her that her cartilage is so badly deteriorated that within a few years she will likely have to have knee replacement surgery. Elsewhere, a dear friend is facing a tragic divorce (is there any other kind?) after nearly 30 years of marriage. And another good friend has seen everything he has lived and worked for taken away from him after a series of bad choices and horrible decisions. His life is a wreck.

And here I’m complaining about jet lag and a trip to the zoo. Makes me so ashamed I’m tempted not to send this letter. But by now you probably know me well enough that my pettiness doesn’t surprise you. So . . . instead I shall take deep, cleansing breaths and try to maintain a little perspective: my kids are happily enrolled in excellent schools; my work is going so well that somebody on the other side of the world wants to pay for a couple of days of my time; and I live so close to one of the world’s great zoos that I can do it in a day trip. And besides, my Bruins are supposed to lose, so maybe I’ll be glad to have missed the game anyway. I’ll still miss that first day of kindergarten, but such is life. Right?

Here’s hoping that my miseries are always this profound—and no more so. And hoping that all is well with you.

Letters to Will

Tag: kindergarten

Six Basic Principles

Jet Lag and a Trip to the Zoo