As he nears his 45th birthday he has a message for his 13 year-old self about mistakes, parents, sexuality, and science.
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I wish I could convince you that one day that thing that you hide from everybody won’t be as scary. You aren’t a wimp, a sissy or any of the other things you hear from the other kids sometimes.
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I wish I could tell you all the mistakes you will make so you won’t make them. I wish I could tell you about all the successes you will have so that you will believe in yourself. And I wish I could make it so you don’t hate that part of you that scares you so much. You’re not disgusting. You’re not “wrong.” I know that part of you is so very confusing. I wish I could convince you that one day that thing that you hide from everybody won’t be as scary. You aren’t a wimp, a sissy or any of the other things you hear from the other kids sometimes. I could tell you that you will end up being stronger and tougher than so many others. But, I know you so well and I know you wouldn’t believe me. It is hard for you to avoid seeing yourself through their eyes sometimes, isn’t it? I know that it hurts, but I promise that it won’t always.
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It’s cold today. March of 1984. NYC. You are sitting in the Howard Johnson restaurant on the corner of 43rd Street and Broadway in Times Square. You are with other kids from your eighth grade class. This trip is your parents’ bar-mitzvah gift to you. You’ve already been to Boston and Philadelphia on this trip. Next stop Washington DC and then back home to Santa Fe. And you’ve had a wonderful, spectacular, eye-opening time. I can tell you that you never, ever lose your love for travel. You never, ever lose your sense of joy at being shown something new.
You’re just a kid now. You’re allowed to see them as parents. You don’t see them as mere mortal human beings with problems and demons for a long time.
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You have straight mousy brown hair cut into a bowl cut. You are skinny and you look younger than 13. Your face is sweet and young and innocent. The puffy, navy blue down-feather parka you wear threatens to swallow you up. Earlier today, you went to Macy’s and spent some of your bar-mitzvah money on clothes. You bought red pants and an oxford style shirt with navy stripes. You end up wearing those bright red pants at a state-wide science fair. I won’t tell you what happens at the science fairs, but those red pants end up being seen by a lot of people. I want you to cherish the science projects. This is not a good time for you at home right know. I know it’s awful. You worry about your mother and you don’t understand your father. There is lots of fighting. Lots of sadness. But, you have to find those little moments in the sun and remember them. Life is not extremes. You will learn that you can have wonderful things and sad things happening in life at the same time. And you will eventually get very good at seeing both. Actually, I think you already know that. In fact, I think that the 13 year old Jack knows that better than the 44 year old Jack. You’re good at being optimistic and positive. Your grandmother has said to you, as long as you can remember, “Jackie, there is a silver lining in everything. You just have to look for it.”
The reason to cherish the science projects is that they are something Mom and Dad work with you on as a team. Mom helps you with the experiments and Dad takes you to the science fair competitions around the state. They may be tearing each other apart bit by bit, but they love you desperately. In fact, it will take you many years to really understand your parents. But, that’s OK. You’re just a kid now. You’re allowed to see them as parents. You don’t see them as mere mortal human beings with problems and demons for a long time. And that’s fine. For now, I just want you to believe me when I say they want the best for you with all their hearts. They would both give up a lot for you. They have both given up lots for you. That’s what parents do. Usually silently. You are cherished and loved even when they are a bit too occupied with their broken relationship to tell you. They’re going to make a lot of mistakes and bad choices. You must believe me when I tell you that it is not your fault. You aren’t making it bad and you can’t make it better. The only thing I can tell you is this: You end up being ok and their love for you is without boundaries.
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So there you are sitting in Howard Johnson in NYC and you’re about to go see “Cats” tonight. You know every word to every song. You have listened to the cast recording on the yellow Sony Sports Walkman your Grandpa and Aunt got you for your bar-mitzvah. I can picture you after school at the house in Santa Fe. You wear that red windbreaker and like to walk to the grocery store on the corner to buy candy bars while singing songs from “Cats” to yourself. Yes, the other kids are listening to Van Halen and you are listening to musicals. I know it is the first stereotyped trait that you express. You know that most boys don’t like musicals. Actually, in a way you’re pretty brave. When kids tease you at school when they find out all your tapes are musicals and not rock bands, you ignore them and listen to what you want anyway. You think your mom and dad know your secret or suspect, but they don’t. To them, you’re just a sweet kid who happens to like musicals.
You look at Jeff and tentatively reach out to take his hand. And yes, I see what happens next when nobody else does.
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It is chilly out there in Times Square and you look warm and happy inside the restaurant. I see you smiling and laughing. You’ve become good at hiding your pain at a very early age. I wish you didn’t have to, but it’s not such a bad thing to get out of the way. Everybody needs to learn that we can handle pain. It is important to know that being in pain is sometimes part of life. I know your pain is different. You hurt because your family is a sad place. Many kids have to deal with that. But, you and I both know about the other thing that hurts and is scary and confusing and that nobody knows about. I know your pain is so silent. Don’t worry. That part won’t always hurt. Knowing all that I do about you, I am proud of who you are at 13. You’re a good person. You have a good heart. You’re a sincerely nice little guy. I know it’s hard to be as sensitive as you are. It’s hard because when you see other people hurt, you feel bad. This is another thing about you that makes you feel different. The other boys your age don’t seem to be as sensitive. I know. It’s hard to feel different. But, being sensitive is a good thing. Hold on to that ability to care, to love, to extend yourself. It’s not girly or wimpy. Only a strong man can cry for another’s pain.
Now you’re coming out of the Howard Johnson, spilling with the other kids onto Broadway in the cold evening winter air. The adults who are in charge of the trip make everybody hold hands with a partner while we walk up Broadway to the Winter Garden Theatre. You are so nervous because you are standing next to Jeff. The adult leader tells you to take the person’s hand next to you. You look at Jeff and tentatively reach out to take his hand. And yes, I see what happens next when nobody else does. Jeff looks around because he doesn’t want to hold your hand. I know you have confusing feelings about Jeff. He’s handsome. And you don’t really even understand why you notice that, but you know, somehow, not to tell anyone. But, other kids always know, don’t they? I see you reach out for Jeff’s hand and Jeff doesn’t move. He makes you reach out and take his hand from his side. He doesn’t offer it to you. I know how desperately confused and scared and alone you are right now. I know how embarrassed you are. But, I’m proud of you because you grab his hand because that’s just what has to be done. Period. It’s another lesson you learn. Sometimes there are just things you have to do in life that are confusing and scary. One day, there will be fewer scary things. I almost want to tell you that you will get stronger and less scared a long time from now. But, ya know, at your age with the things you are dealing with at home and inside you, I think you’re already stronger than most 13 year-olds. You just don’t know it yet.
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As the lights dim and the overture begins, the look on your face puts tears in my eyes. Tears of happiness because I can see how excited you are. I know this, to you, is magic. You are amazed. You are enthralled. But, Jack, what you really are at this moment is at peace. I don’t know why. But, you are. And the little zing up your spine that you feel when the audience goes quiet and the overture starts will last forever. You will always get that sense of peace when you go see a play or musical in the theater. It never leaves you. I don’t know why. It just…is. Cherish that. Sometimes we adults forget to let ourselves be excited. We forget to find those little things in life that give us zings up our spines. We forget that we have to make an effort and go out into the world and find things to excite us. We forget that life doesn’t just come to us. We forget to seek out the joys. Little things. Daily things. Try not to let that happen. Always be able to be amazed.
You are perfect just the way you are. And you are very, very, very loved.
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Time for me to leave you alone again. I love you. You are perfect the way you are. You know what I mean when I say that even if nobody else knows right now, right? Let me say it again: You are perfect just the way you are. And you are very, very, very loved.
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Photo: Getty Images
I read Jacks story when it went viral last year…….and I cried. I sent him a FR and he accepted! Through him………..I am able to catch glimpses of all of these countries he visits, and best of all……his stories of Babba! 🙂 Thanks Jack!
Touching xxx