Dear Snowflake

By Dave Buffington

If you’re a high school senior, I’m about to tell you a whole lot of stuff you probably don’t want to hear.

A bunch of mean, ugly, nasty things your overprotective dad, overworked mom and over-regulated teachers don’t have the guts to say.


Buckle up.

May marks the start of the senior silly season, and during those months, at least a couple of you are going to die because you’re stupid, selfish or both.

You’ll drink and drive.

You’ll play with guns.

You’ll think life is hopeless because you caught your boyfriend with another girl or because the girls in school were mean to you.

You’ll think you’re invincible right up to the millisecond before your car connects with the telephone pole.

And then I’ll get a call.

Probably at some ungodly hour when I’d rather be watching hockey.

Which will really make me mad.

Because I’ll be the one who has to walk a mile through a muddy field to get to the crash scene. I’ll be the one who has to listen to your wailing mother. I’ll be the one who has to look into the empty eyes of your father. I’ll be the one who has to distract them from the fact that 18 years of bills and diapers and sweat and tears were just destroyed in an instant of idiocy.

And it is idiocy.

Nothing in life is forgotten faster than high school after you graduate. No one will care about your grades anymore. Your high school friends will be scattered across the planet. And you’ll quickly figure out that the potential population of boyfriends and girlfriends is not 300 or so classmates but 3 billon or so attractive adults.

In short, that diploma you’re holding is nothing more or less than a blank slate. Write something new and cool on it.

Not something stupid.

And speaking of stupid … if you do get drunk, don’t get into your car. Just open your Uber app. Or call me. My number is 979-4085. Driving you home will be less work than dealing with all your friends who are begging me not to run the photo of your car wrapped around the telephone pole.

Guess what? I’m running it.

I’ll run it because it’s news.

I’ll run it as a warning.

I’ll run it because I’m mad.

And I’ll be mad because I love you.

ePaper Edition
2017-05-11 digital edition
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Graduation 2018

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