Grab the Talmud With Your Diploma

My dear niece,

The tradition of elders giving advice to recent high school graduates tracks back to days long before there was anything like high school or graduation. Here's a little secret about why adults do the advice thing:

A lot of it is covering our own behinds. So when you bang into a wall or tumble down a hill, we can say "I told you so." After all, we remember how much attention we paid to our elders' advice when we were your age. And we realize, sadly, what limited value such advice is, even if you pay the closest of attention. In the same way that reading an encyclopedia about swimming can't really prepare you for that first plunge, words are no substitute for experience.

On the other hand, I dimly recall how some of the advice I got may have kept me from whacking a wall quite as hard as otherwise. So I'll exercise my Uncle's Prerogative and deliver some suggestions. Knowing full well, that you've probably heard them all before.

Thinking back to when I walked across a stage for my high school diploma, through the lens of the years I can clearly remember what I was the least prepared for:

Until now, your identity has been decided in part by you and in major part by the expectations of the people around you. When you leave the bubble, that second half vanishes. Where there is nobody around you who knows you as "the girl who...," you are suddenly free -- required, in fact -- to construct your own identity.

It's an incredible power. But with great power comes great responsibility. No time like the present -- with one final summer before you head for college -- to be thinking about who you want to be and how you want that campus of strangers to know you. This is your first chance as an adult to create nothing but first impressions.

You surely won't want to start from scratch. Your family and peers have offered you examples -- some good and some less so -- that I believe you've watched and noted. And you've already tumbled down a few hills.

That many of those tumbles have been #firstworldproblems is not to denigrate their seriousness to you, or to say that you won't be able to lean on their lessons. It's usefully humbling to become aware while still young that nobody is invulnerable. (But you can be sure you'll make friends who had it worse. So don't be too proud of your humility.)

What you've learned from your experiences is part of what goes into the toolbox of deciding your essential values.

For many people, religion provides another big section of that toolbox. I know that you know more about your faith than I did at your age. When my dad -- your Popoo -- died that early morning two years ago, you were the one at the bedside who suggested saying the Shema. Dad's relationship with doctrine and dogma got more tenuous as he got older, but he never lost respect or affection for the tradition. I know he would have been happy about your prayer at that moment, even as he would have wished to have spared you the experience.

(I betcha that actually having witnessed a death will be unusual among your new peers. Reality like that can ground you better than a thumbdrive filled with letters like these.)

So what does Judaism have to offer to you now? Lots of applied values. The Talmud directly addresses three relevant questions: Who is wise? Who is strong? And who is wealthy?

A wise person learns from all people. A strong person successfully battles temptation (aka the evil inclination). And a wealthy person is one who is happy with what they have. (Interestingly, I can find no Talmudic reply to the simple question "Who is happy?")

You'll have plenty of opportunity to cultivate wisdom, strength and wealth when you get to college. And beyond. Dip back into Judaism for good food for thought. Whether or not you believe any particular item of faith should not prevent you from taking advantage of thousands of years of smart people arguing about the best way to live a good life.

Here's a warning from me: Popularity should be a secondary gain, never a primary goal. You have all the qualities you need to find enough people who share your interests and passions. You need to remember that through the inevitable lonely times. I remember temptations. And I remember seeing terrible crashes that kept me from giving in.

Hm. A word about recreational chemical substances. Many decades ago, the comic strip Doonesbury had a plot line where a couple of the main characters got caught with pot. They got off on a technicality, but the last panel of the last strip in the series has always stuck with me. I recall it was something like: "It may be right and it may be wrong, but it sure is illegal." Don't be stupid. Seriously.

And oh yes, what about love and all that goes along with that? If an encyclopedia about swimming is poor preparation for a pool, every word ever written about love won't give you the equivalent of a blind woman's sense of color.

It's likely to happen. It's likely to be overwhelming. In fact, if it happens, I hope it is overwhelming. The best you can do is decide in advance what really matters to you. If the guy asks you to violate those essentials, I pray you have the strength to escape as quickly as possible. You will not regret it.

That you've had it pretty good thus far means that you have the resources to approach the next stage of your life as an adventure and not as a terrifying step off a cliff. You have the potential for greatness. Get out there and fulfill it. Have some fun, too.

And don't forget to send dispatches back to the folks you've left behind. See you on Facebook?

Love,

Your Uncle Jeff