Day 30 - A Song that Makes You Want to Help the World, Help the Environment, End Poverty, Help Society, Etc.
This entry a part of the 30 Day Song Challenge
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Whoever came up with this challenge reserved the hardest for last, no? For the past month I’ve been racking my head for a song that fulfills such dictate, but truthfully, I don’t reckon there’s a particular song that elicits these reactions in me.
“Help the world, help the environment, end poverty, help society” — that’s a pretty tall order, wouldn’t you say?
I’m sure there are plenty of Michael Jackson songs that would suit the challenge, but I didn’t really follow the King of Pop. The closest I can get is a song that makes me want to be a better person — a better person for myself and a better person for other people. (So cheesy!)
Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen
Baz Luhrmann
Something for Everybody
(Released March 1999)
It’s one of those songs that I’d rather not listen to but end up playing anyway because the words are so spot on. It’s like a modern take on Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata. Oh, funny story: Les Crane’s spoken word version of Desiderata played on the radio one time and my first reaction was, hey it sounds like the sunscreen song! even though the former, clearly, was released first (1971 to be exact).
As you know, Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen was based on Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich’s article entitled Advice, Like Youth, Probably Just Wasted on the Young. Schmich wrote the column as though she were delivering a commencement speech. It’s as generic as it gets but a decade and some later, I find that the words still ring true.
I simply must post the lyrics, my favorite parts set in boldface:
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ‘99:
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 blind sides you at 4 p.m. 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.
I’m not the most positive and optimistic person in the world but listening to this song sortof reminds me to seize the day and drink life to the lees. And yes, it really does make me want to be a better person. Yet at the same time it makes me dread getting older because the song is clearly written for the young and stupid, or, at least, the young and confused. And that’s the thing: I won’t always be young but it’s a seemingly long way to wisdom and clarity.
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