"You are very welcome to this sad, tattered and abused old world."
July 10, 2013 1:49 PM Subscribe
"We have not learned, even, to live with our fellow man. Instead we have perfected more means to annihilate him -- to wipe him (and ourselves) from the face of the Earth." A 1974 letter from Lieutenant Colonel Clyde S. Shield, lead test pilot for the Manhattan project, to his newborn grandson.
For those who have trouble with the handwriting or otherwise need it in text, I transcribed it:
**************************************
I doubt this letter will mean too much to you now -- you can't even focus your eyes, yet, but maybe, years hence, it may mean something to you. So, I hope your father and mother will keep this for you until it does mean a little more to you.
You may or may not get to know me -- your grandfather -- that is in someone else's hands. But just in case you do not -- I'd like to leave a few ideas with you. Ideas, I may say, that I tried to germinate in your father's mind with varying degrees of success.
To begin with, you are very welcome to this sad, tattered, and abused old world. We really haven't done a very good job of preserving it for you. On the contrary, we have plundered it of its wealth of minerals and oils, polluted its streams and even the very air we depend on for the very breath of our lives -- and we've done this with our eyes wide open and with the knowledge that we were doing it! How we explain this, I really don't know except to say that I, for one, am sorry for it.
We have not learned, even, to live with our fellow man. Instead we have perfected more means to annihilate him -- to wipe him (and ourselves) from the face of the Earth.
We produce record crops of grains and other foodstuffs, but still much of the world goes to bed on empty stomachs and thousands starve to death every day.
It's a strange and confusing world we leave to you. I only hope you can do a better job with it than we have done.
But, in spite of what I've said, there is much in life to enjoy -- to relish. There is also much that can be done to make life worth while and living worth the "candle." There is a rich heritage of literature and music that awaits your investigation -- it's there for the taking -- in the libraries of the country and in the archives of the museums. There is poetry and prose -- enough to fill all the hours you can spare to listen to them and more knowledge, on eery conceivable subject, than you can assimilate in a lifetime. It's all there just waiting for you to ask for it or to seek it out. Don't overlook it or pass it up for less important or less meaningful pastimes.
Most important of all is ability to savor life, to tasteof it in as many variancies as you can -- while you can. Life never looks so short as when you look _back_ on it. Unfortunately you cannot do this until it has passed you by. So, as you go through life, don't overlook the "Lily in the Field," the newborn puppy, the fledgling bird -- for they are as much (or more) of life than the tall buildings, the shiny automobiles and the possessions we tend to place so much importance upon. If you can do just this much -- life will be more meaningful for you.
When your Dad was born I was busy playing soldier, World War II was history -- but recent history -- and in which I had a small part. But then I lacked both the knowledge and the wisdom that comes from experience. Now, at 56, I think of what I might have done -- and didn't. But all of us are blessed with "20/20" hindsight.
If I could package (with ribbon) those gifts that I would most like to give you, I would. But how do you package integrity, how do you wrap honesty, what kind of paper for a sense of humor, what ribbon for inquisitiveness?
But, since there is no way I can give you any of those things, I can in this year of your birth, wish that you will find some wisdom and some guidance from these words, and, perhaps my wish for a bright new life for you will, eventually, come to reality. At least I hope so -- with all my heart.
Love, Grandad.
posted by KathrynT at 2:47 PM on July 10, 2013 [22 favorites]
**************************************
I doubt this letter will mean too much to you now -- you can't even focus your eyes, yet, but maybe, years hence, it may mean something to you. So, I hope your father and mother will keep this for you until it does mean a little more to you.
You may or may not get to know me -- your grandfather -- that is in someone else's hands. But just in case you do not -- I'd like to leave a few ideas with you. Ideas, I may say, that I tried to germinate in your father's mind with varying degrees of success.
To begin with, you are very welcome to this sad, tattered, and abused old world. We really haven't done a very good job of preserving it for you. On the contrary, we have plundered it of its wealth of minerals and oils, polluted its streams and even the very air we depend on for the very breath of our lives -- and we've done this with our eyes wide open and with the knowledge that we were doing it! How we explain this, I really don't know except to say that I, for one, am sorry for it.
We have not learned, even, to live with our fellow man. Instead we have perfected more means to annihilate him -- to wipe him (and ourselves) from the face of the Earth.
We produce record crops of grains and other foodstuffs, but still much of the world goes to bed on empty stomachs and thousands starve to death every day.
It's a strange and confusing world we leave to you. I only hope you can do a better job with it than we have done.
But, in spite of what I've said, there is much in life to enjoy -- to relish. There is also much that can be done to make life worth while and living worth the "candle." There is a rich heritage of literature and music that awaits your investigation -- it's there for the taking -- in the libraries of the country and in the archives of the museums. There is poetry and prose -- enough to fill all the hours you can spare to listen to them and more knowledge, on eery conceivable subject, than you can assimilate in a lifetime. It's all there just waiting for you to ask for it or to seek it out. Don't overlook it or pass it up for less important or less meaningful pastimes.
Most important of all is ability to savor life, to tasteof it in as many variancies as you can -- while you can. Life never looks so short as when you look _back_ on it. Unfortunately you cannot do this until it has passed you by. So, as you go through life, don't overlook the "Lily in the Field," the newborn puppy, the fledgling bird -- for they are as much (or more) of life than the tall buildings, the shiny automobiles and the possessions we tend to place so much importance upon. If you can do just this much -- life will be more meaningful for you.
When your Dad was born I was busy playing soldier, World War II was history -- but recent history -- and in which I had a small part. But then I lacked both the knowledge and the wisdom that comes from experience. Now, at 56, I think of what I might have done -- and didn't. But all of us are blessed with "20/20" hindsight.
If I could package (with ribbon) those gifts that I would most like to give you, I would. But how do you package integrity, how do you wrap honesty, what kind of paper for a sense of humor, what ribbon for inquisitiveness?
But, since there is no way I can give you any of those things, I can in this year of your birth, wish that you will find some wisdom and some guidance from these words, and, perhaps my wish for a bright new life for you will, eventually, come to reality. At least I hope so -- with all my heart.
Love, Grandad.
posted by KathrynT at 2:47 PM on July 10, 2013 [22 favorites]
Hey, hey Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song
'Bout a funny ol' world that's a-comin' along.
Seems sick an' it's hungry, it's tired an' it's torn,
It looks like it's a-dyin' an' it's hardly been born.
posted by entropicamericana at 2:50 PM on July 10, 2013 [3 favorites]
'Bout a funny ol' world that's a-comin' along.
Seems sick an' it's hungry, it's tired an' it's torn,
It looks like it's a-dyin' an' it's hardly been born.
posted by entropicamericana at 2:50 PM on July 10, 2013 [3 favorites]
What awesome penmanship!
posted by trip and a half at 3:07 PM on July 10, 2013 [1 favorite]
posted by trip and a half at 3:07 PM on July 10, 2013 [1 favorite]
I look at those words, then I look at what's happening, in Guantanamo, with Bradley Manning, with Edward Snowden, and I think it's not better than when he wrote, it's worse.
posted by JHarris at 5:10 PM on July 10, 2013 [2 favorites]
posted by JHarris at 5:10 PM on July 10, 2013 [2 favorites]
The Manhattan Project teaches two completely different types of people two completely different lessons.
posted by Johann Georg Faust at 5:27 PM on July 10, 2013 [3 favorites]
posted by Johann Georg Faust at 5:27 PM on July 10, 2013 [3 favorites]
What awesome penmanship!
It really is rather gorgeous. As is the letter itself.
His hand immediately reminded me of the Disney logotype script.
posted by snuffleupagus at 6:54 AM on July 11, 2013 [1 favorite]
It really is rather gorgeous. As is the letter itself.
His hand immediately reminded me of the Disney logotype script.
posted by snuffleupagus at 6:54 AM on July 11, 2013 [1 favorite]
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