Mr. Vonnegut was a genius but this advice about sunscreen did not come from him. In fact, he never gave a commencement address at MIT. This was an Internet hoax that spread like wildfire across the worldwide web duping everyone in its path, including Vonnegut’s own wife.
I don’t know who actually wrote the speech but I sure wish they’d delivered it to me when I was teenager frying myself with baby oil in the South Florida sun. Now, in damage-reversal mode, I’ve become positively religious about sunscreen. After trying just about every brand on the market I’m devoted to a product called Celazome Moisturizing Sunscreen SPF 30. I wear it every day and I slather it on my squirming children while we’re getting dressed for skiing. Celazome doesn’t sting our eyes the way other brands do and one application literally lasts all day. 
And now back to Kurt Vonnegut and the clever speech that he never gave. Here it is in its entirety. Enjoy!
Photo by Jill Krementz
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ’97:
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 blindside you at 4 pm 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.
Family ski trips require careful planning, herculean effort, and infinite amounts of patience. Bulky gear, freezing temperatures, sticker shock, and perils both real and imagined can transform even the most lovely, easy-going family into guest contenders for the Jerry Springer Show. As a ski resort employee I’ve witnessed some epic slope-side meltdowns and as a “ski mom” of strong-willed girls I’ve been on the receiving and giving end of a few Hall of Famer tantrums. But anyone lucky enough to experience a family ski vacation will tell you that the memories make it all worthwhile. Invigorating exercise, hilarious mishaps, spectacular scenery, and multi-generational camaraderie are just a few reasons why adventurous families return to the mountains year after year.
