A few years ago, when both of my kids left for college, I wrote each of them a letter. Nothing fancy. Just something I hoped they’d find helpful once the room quieted down and the door had closed behind me. I slipped it into the top drawer of their dorm room desks and left it there.
Since then, I’ve revisited that letter every spring. Updated it. Rewritten it. Shared it. My kids have long graduated now, but the heart of what I wanted to say still feels true — maybe even more so. So, this isn’t just for them anymore.
If you're about to graduate, or love someone who is, these words are for you. Maybe they land. Maybe they stick. I hope they help.
Congratulations on your graduation. You’re about to step into the life that’s yours to build. You’ve probably heard people say, “Follow your passion.” I’ve said it too. It worked for me. I started in restaurants when I was a kid. I’ve never stopped. But it doesn’t work that way for everyone.
If you’re going into business, get good at something. Really good. Watch people who are better than you. Help them. Even if it’s for free. Learn something useful. The kind of thing people need. Passion helps. Usefulness lasts.
If your work isn’t about money, that’s fine. You don’t have to be rich to live well— or to be happy. If you want to teach, write, paint, raise a family, work outdoors, or serve people — and you love doing it — that’s enough. If it brings you peace and you’re proud of it, keep doing it. Be good at what you do. Live in a way that lets you sleep at night.
In your personal life, line things up right. Fun’s not the goal. It’s the reward. Make good choices, and the fun shows up where it belongs.
Spend the next few years figuring out what really matters to you. There’s no need to rush, but don’t sleepwalk through it either. Some of the best things in life — peace, joy, contentment — don’t show up at a party at 3 a.m. Learn the difference between pleasure and purpose. One fades fast. The other stays with you.
Faith, family, friends, food, and fun — in that order — have served me well. Get the first four right, and you won’t have to chase the fifth.
Stay curious. Ask questions. Learn how other people live. Don’t be afraid to change your mind. Certainty is overrated. Listening isn’t.
Bad things happen. That’s life. What you do after — that’s yours to own.
What happened to you may not be your fault. What you do with it is. My father died when I was six. My mother raised my brother and me on a Mississippi public school art teacher’s salary. She maxed out credit cards. She sold her wedding jewelry. She kept showing up. She kept moving forward.
She couldn’t control what happened to her, but she showed me how to respond — and that part was on her. That’s how I learned.
A friend once told me, “Just because your mama left you crying in the middle of the road at three doesn’t mean you have to stay there at forty-three.” He was right.
You don’t get to choose the start. You do get to choose what comes next.
You’ll fail. We all do. It’s normal. It’s good. Fail early. Learn something from it. Don’t wallow. Don’t make it your story. Let it shape you. Then get back to work.
Others will fail, too. Give them grace. You’ll need some yourself, eventually.
People respect steady hands. They follow calm voices. Be the one who shows up, not the one who complains. That’s what leadership looks like.
There’s no perfect path. But there is a direction. Most days, onward is the best one I know. After a setback, take one step. Then take another. That’s how it starts again.
Onward means you keep going. Even when it’s slow. Even when you’re tired. Even when nobody claps. That’s where strength lives. Quiet. Daily. Unseen.
Eat well. Sleep well. Walk a lot. Call your grandparents. Hug your parents and don’t let go first. Thank your teachers. Even the ones you didn’t like.
Don’t spend money trying to look rich. Don’t stare at doors that won’t open. Another one’s nearby. Move your feet. You’ll hear it open.
The best people aren’t trying to be better than others. They’re trying to be better than they were yesterday.
Look in the mirror once in a while. Ask: “Would I be proud to know this person?” If the answer’s no, do something about it.
Find one thing — outside your job, outside your family — that makes your town better. Pick up trash. Feed someone. Coach a team. Help a neighbor. One thing. Every week. Do that, and the world changes.
Don’t wait to “give back.” Most people didn’t get what they needed in the first place. Just give. Time. Effort. Grace. Give quietly. Give again.
The internet counts. What you post is part of who you are. Make it kind. Make it true.
If you think something kind about someone, say it. Call them. Text them. Don’t wait. You never know which words are the last ones they’ll hear.
Laugh when you can. Hug when you should. Don’t forget either one.
Stick with faith, family, friends, food, and fun. Learn skills. Be useful. Be kind. Do the work. Show up.
Then keep moving. That’s the job. That’s the life.
Onward.
Peposa
I learned this dish from Giuliana at Caffe Degli Amici in Tavarnelle.
I spent one morning in the kitchen there with Paolo’s mom, Giuliana and his wife, Elizabeth. They cooked, I tried to decipher. It was a blast. The recipe I was researching was Peposo, which is basically Italian pot roast with a ton of pepper. I backed off of the pepper.
¼ cup Extra virgin olive oil
5 lbs. Beef top round or chuck roast, cut into 2 inch cubes
1 TB Kosher salt
2 TB Fresh ground black pepper
1 TB Garlic, minced
2 TB Shallot, minced
1 TB Fresh thyme, chopped
2 cups Dry red wine
1 each 28 oz. can whole peeled tomatoes, crushed by hand
2 cups Chicken stock
1 recipe Polenta
Preheat oven to 225.
Heat
oil in a large roasting pan over high heat. Season the beef with the
salt and pepper and sear, leaving space between each piece to allow
proper browning. Work in small batches if necessary. Once all the beef
has been browned, add the shallot, garlic and tomatoes and cook for 4-5
minutes, stirring frequently. Deglaze with the red wine and continue
stirring until halfof the wine has evaporated. Add the chicken stock and
bring to a simmer. Place in the oven and stir every 30 minutes until
tender, about 3-4 hours.
It is best made a day ahead and reheated in the oven at 200. Serve over polenta.
Yield: 6-8 servings.
