Kelly Hopper's Mom Letter for Mr. Billie 2005
Dear mom, I'm trying to accomplish three things by sitting down to write this letter. One, I don't want to be sidetracked trying to make a bunch of jokes. Two, I don't want you crying by the end. And three, I want to save up to 30% on car insurance by switching to Geico.
I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, in fact, we never have. Freshman year I was
three inches shorter than you, and then boom! I was 6'2". You wanted me asleep by 9:00, I wanted to stay up talking to hot babes on the internet until midnight. You wanted me to read a classic every week, I wanted to watch Instant Classics on ESPN. Through it all you've always been able to point me in the right direction, and that's made me the successful, college-bound Mr. Billie candidate you see today.
I'll never forget the countless cupcakes for holidays in every class, or the thousands of hours teaching me to read, count, spell, write, exercise with Mrs. Stevenson, hypothesize with Mrs. Hladky, synthesize with Mr. Adams, and derivatize with Mr. Swanson. Cancel that, I never did figure out Calculus.
Remember the time when I counted to a thousand in the car on the way to Montana when I was three? You were so proud of me. How about the time I stole your razor and shaved off all the hair on the back of my head in the shower. I can't say you were that angry at me. It's amazing that I still have all four limbs. I'd make a joke about Steve here, but I want to keep playing baseball.
Dad, thanks for keeping score and watching every game I played in the ten-plus years that I've played. I needed someone to listen to all those billions of sports statistics that I constantly spewed. Oh, and the nicknames were great even though they often cost me a lot of public humiliation. Who can forget Pacific Ratfish Boy, or Turkey Boy, or my personal favorite, Yellowfang. That's probably the reason I brush my teeth so much nowadays.
I'm off to the East coast in a few months, and I think I'm going to do OK. You taught me how to set goals, and you know the only reason I'm going to get a 4.0 the first semester is to get my PlayStation 2. We've embarrassed each other more than our fair share of times, be it "my son got a 1570!" or my afro during the basketball season, but we all came out of it all right.
I know I wouldn't be half the student, half the athlete, or half the man I am today if it weren't for the love, support, and guidance of you mom, and dad. I love you more than I'll ever let on.
Your son,
Kelly