Commencement Address 1997

It had the ring of classic Kurt Vonnegut, a bit of advice for college graduates: "Ladies and gentlemen of the class of 1997: Wear sunscreen," it began.
The essay went everywhere by computer, from e-mail to online discussion group, even to the novelist's wife, who loved it. Except for one thing - Vonnegut never wrote it, never delivered it as a commencement address.
The piece was actually a June 1 column for the Chicago Tribune by Mary Schmich. How it got attributed to Vonnegut remained a mystery.
Vonnegut learned of the work's existence when his agent told him a magazine wanted to reprint the speech he gave at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. "I thought about it and said I didn't think I gave any talk like that, but I wished I had," he said. "I finally realized a hoax was going on." ........
At 74, he shuns computers and the Internet, sticking with his typewriter. The hoax has left him more convinced. "So some jerk infected the Internet with an outright lie. It shows how easy it is to do and how credulous people are," he said.
Schmich has been inundated with calls and e-mails from across the country and Europe. She tried to trace what happened. Two friends she sent the column to swore they did not pass it on. A colleague at work sent it to a friend.
Schmich said she has not been able to decipher whether the mix-up was a simple mistake or a hoax. "Not only did they invent the author for it, they invented it as an M.I.T. graduation speech," she told The New York Times. Putting Vonnegut's name on her writing, Schmich wrote in a later column, "would be like sticking a Calvin Klein label on a pair of Kmart jeans.")
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97:
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 pm 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.
But trust me on the sunscreen.