Since she is on the brink of adolescence, and then adulthood where she will discover all the disappointments we blame on "growing up" - I want to say to my little sister: don't lose your young, hopeful, optimism.
Before you become grossly self-involved and self-loathing like the rest of us, I want it in writing that once, when you were very young, you saw only the good in people. You believed wholly your elders and peers, went wherever you wanted and did whatever you needed because they could think of nothing better than to be with you.
It would be alright with me if forever you believe we act unselfishly and love without reserve.
But you won't, and we don't because we are a childless people. We have both forgotten what it is to be a child, and we have none of our own. We are a confused group of kids who act and think with our interests as our sole motivators.
Isn't that the point of our "roaring 20s?" Yes, to some extent, it is. We must go through this tumultuous growing period in order to know ourselves and know what works for us.
But it doesn't have to be that way - not always.
We can still be reminded by the very young or the very old that there is more to life than serving number one. Parents know this; which is why we are not parents yet, thank god. We can be reminded that we are part of a world larger than ourselves when you, little Ann, shove us out of that limitless world called, "Me."
It happens in the most unlikely events, like the time I was home recently, taking out the recycling from the night before. I was in the garage, brooding over which ex-boyfriend to hook up with tonight.
You cornered me on your scooter. "We're going to play racquetball! Please come, please come now. I need my exercise." But Ann, I had plans to smoke weed with friends, then watch a movie or something.
Nope. You have different plans. We must play racquetball at the YWCA for an hour to get your daily hour of activity in. No, tomorrow won't work. No, you did not have gym class today. Racquetball wins. Ann wins.
As she should, too. Isn't racquetball a positive, healthy activity, for Ann and myself? Whatever happened to old-fashioned, sober fun?
Author and poet Naomi Shihab Nye said she loves to write for a middle school audience because it is refreshing to act "that honest, that bewildered, fresh and nutty" as a 12-year-old.
And what confidence!
Like the time Ann strutted in to the liquor store - she was supposed to be waiting in the car - to catch me red-handed buying alcohol underage. Before I even knew she was behind me, Ann announced for the entire store to hear, "It says children wine over there!" "Ah! Get out of here!" I screeched, as I escorted her past the neon sign that read, "Chilled wine."
The point is, Ann, we all do stupid things. We do not always act as the upstanding young citizens we portray when we are with the very young or the very old.
If you, my dear sister, are able to love and be loved without reserve, there may still be hope for us. Or, at least, we can learn from you and carry ourselves with more of the honesty and innocent confidence you so forcefully exude.
I want to thank you for holding me to such high standards and for making me into the most rewarding role I could be now - your big sister. Thank you, Ann, for the numerous times you prove to me I have more than a responsibility to myself.
Kate E. Matthews is a senior in the School of Communication and a columnist for The Eagle. You can reach her at edpage@theeagleonline.com.
