Hey Bean, it's your Dad,
I was thinking about my eighteenth birthday a bit today. My eighteenth birthday wasn't very impressive, to be honest. There wasn't a big party, and my only present that year was a shot of Jack Daniels in the back room of a seedy bar in a bad part of Toledo Ohio. My mother, who said that one of her greatest wishes was to have me with her on my eighteenth birthday didn't even buy me a present, make me a cake, didn't even cook me a special dinner. I was a messed up kid who had bragged about having been kicked out of the state of Utah because of bad behavior (which actually was true in a way), I had no real prospects for life, no ambition for anything. I was a beaten dog who didn't have the ability to think past the immediate moment. The day I turned eighteen no one told me they were proud of me, no one told me that I had a bright future. The day I was eighteen I didn't have college acceptance letters to choose from. The only thing special I did that day was going to the post office and sign up for the draft.
If I had to write a letter to myself for the day I turned 18 knowing what I know now, it would have said something like this:
Congratulations kid, you are an adult, now go sign a piece of paper that says if your country gets in a war you can be told to go be a soldier whether you want to or not. You can't buy a beer, but you can go die for your country. Welcome to adulthood, it doesn't get any better than this. Aren't you glad you are an adult now?
That's what it would have said, and that's exactly how I would have felt. Like there wasn't any point in being an adult. I didn't feel like I mattered, and I didn't feel like life mattered. I hope you feel different. I hope that we have done enough for you that you know you have real options in life. I hope you can see that you do matter, that life does matter. It's not always going to be easy but never believe that you don't matter, because you do. In fact, I know that you will have a lot better birthday than I did.
We are going to take you out to a fancy dinner. You are going to be toasted, you are going to be told how amazing you are. You will be told how proud we all are of you, how special that day is, how special you are. You will have that rite of passage that is so important. You will know that you have crossed a threshold and that you have the support of your family. You will know that you are loved, wanted, cheered for. I will be so proud of you and I will be proud of myself too.
I will be proud of myself because I have given you a better chance than I was given. While you still got a long road ahead and a lot of chances to make mistakes, you at least have prospects. While I do believe you could get by fine with raw talent, you aren't in a position where you will be limited to that like I was. Instead, you will have so many opportunities because you have a solid family and have built a solid foundation going into adulthood. I was a big part of that. I was there for you more often than not. I was a presence, I was a teacher, I was a father. Out of all the things I did for you, the thing I think is most important is that I never stopped believing in you.
The set of determination in your jaw, the hard-earned wisdom in your eyes, the quiet grace you display, all of those things I have been a part of shaping. The college acceptance letters, the trips to foreign countries and to summer camps, I have been a part of making those happen. Make no mistake Bean, you did the work to get where you are, but I did the work to make sure you could get there. Life is yours to make what you will Bean. However, I am damn happy that you're turning 18 with more than a shot of Jack Daniels in the back of a seedy bar to mark the occasion.
I love you Bean. Thanks for hanging out with me for a bit again. I hope I shared something useful, or if not, that at least your smiling. I will talk to you again tomorrow.
Love,
Dad.
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