Henrietta Hay's Column

Dear Every-Grandson,

This is your grandmother speaking! Next to your mother and father, I am probably the person who loves you more than anybody else in the world. I have watched you grow and have followed your activities with pride. I sympathize when you are sad and cheer when you are happy. And as hard as I find it to believe, you are now ready to graduate from high school. You are 18 years old and are convinced that you can now say, "Today I Am a Man. " You are also convinced that you will live forever.

I don't often lecture you, but I am about to. I want you to live to be old and contented and maybe a little crotchety. I wish for you a happy and productive life. I do not want you to die at 18 because you do something unbelievably, incredibly dumb. Do I worry? Of course I worry.

I do not want you to get stinking drunk, climb into a car with five other teenagers and drive across the railroad tracks in front of a train. I do not want you to allow one of your "friends" to drive that way. I do not want you to get within 100 yards of a car that is going to be driven by a "friend" who has been drinking. I do not want you to drink alcohol at all. It has caused more misery and destroyed more lives than heroin and cocaine. And, in case you hadn't noticed, at your age it is illegal.

There. I said it. You can fire me from the grandmothers union, but please, not before you think about this.

Recently six teenagers from Heritage High School in Littleton were killed instantly when the car they were in was hit by a Burlington Northern coal train. The bodies were so badly burned that when rescuers arrived, they could not determine how many people had been in the car. The bodies were identified by their dental records.

When the results of the autopsy came in, it was reported that the alcohol content in the driver's blood was 0.318 percent. A 150 pound person would have to consume 16 drinks one right after the other to reach that blood-alcohol level. The driver's level was close to that of a drunk in a coma.

But he got behind the wheel, five of his "friends" went along, and the other hundred kids at the kegger stood by, probably cheering him on. And he drove right onto the railroad tracks in front of the headlight of an oncoming train, in spite of the flashing red crossing signals. He had his last drink that night, as did five other teenagers.

When you were born we looked at your tiny body and thought, like all parents and grandparents have always thought, that we could protect you from harm. Even then we knew better. Now we are panic stricken. We cannot protect you any more. We can pass laws, arrest the adults that give you the kegs, erect crossing gates, give you driving lessons and tell you about the dangers of teenage drinking. But we can't force you to listen. You have to figure it out for yourself. Ultimately you have to take the responsibility for yourself.

OK, so you are saying, "But Grandmother, you just don't understand." You're damned right I don't. I don't understand how kids can do this kind of thing to themselves.

I am not judging your morals or your values. That's for you to do. I am telling you not to kill yourself before you have lived.

Kids your age have always been convinced that they are invincible. Hard as it may be for you to believe, you are not. Did the kids from the Heritage High School kids send you a message? Did you hear it?

A 19th century poet named A. E. Houseman wrote a poem called "To an Athlete Dying Young".

"The time you won your town the race

We chaired you through the market-place;

Man and boy stood cheering by,

And home we brought you shoulder high.

"Today, the road all runners come,

Shoulder-high we bring you home,

And set you at your threshold down,

Townsman of a stiller town."

I love you. Grandmother.