Dear Mom

I am pretty mad at my mother this morning. I know I should move on from the things that happened when I was just an adorable spunky little girl, but she gave me some seriously bad advice. 

I remember it well. As she tucked me into bed that nervous night before the first day of first grade…(eyes go crossed as mist descends)

.

 

Me: Mother dear, you are so judicious, what words of wisdom can you drop like pearls on my pillow on the eve of Mrs, Crandell’s first grade class?


Mom: (Wrinkling her beautiful unwrinkled forehead with intense wisdom-gathering) 
"My darling daughter, remember this: Life is not a popularity contest."


I fell to sleep dreaming of riding the big yellow bus, repeating those words over and over…life is not a popularity contest, life is not a popularity contest, life is not a popularity contest.


But I woke up this morning to news that Barack Obama has won the Nobel Peace Prize. Geez Louise! I knew I should have tried the popular route. After some fierce googling I came up with the advice little Baracky got before he went to first grade. It went something like this:

Popular!

You gotta be popular!

Better learn the proper ploys

With the girls and boys

Little ways to get adored

Figure out how to promise all

When you’re playing ball

Anything they want to hear.

To be popular

You need to look over seas!

Need to hang with the right cohorts

Continental sorts

Like France and Italy

And soon those kind of guys

will give you the Nobel Prize

‘Cause you’re so popular!

So thanks a lot Mom, if I hadn’t listened to you and had concentrated instead on being popular, I could have cured cancer and warts by the time I was thirty.