Oh, boy.

My teenage self could have done with a lot of advice. Of course, I’m sure that’s the case with teenagers throughout history.

But, you know how it is; you can’t tell ’em anything.

But if I could actually get young Larry to listen to me, there’s a few things I’d tell him.

First and foremost: respect your parents.

As a teenage boy, I thought one of the most uncool things a teenage boy could do was respect his mother. I don’t know where I came up with that; I guess I thought that would make me some kind of a wuss. So I played the sullen adolescent role quite well around her, to the point that she wondered aloud to Dad what she was doing wrong with me that caused me to treat her the way I did. (He told me so.)

And then she died suddenly when I was 16, and all that sullenness gave way to deep, overwhelming remorse. I spent years regretting the way I acted toward her. I would have given anything, anything, for the chance to make things right with her, to tell her how sorry I was, and that I really loved her.

But I lost that chance when I lost her. And I carried that burden for a long, long time.

When you’re a kid, you think Mom and Dad will always be around. But, you don’t know that. So, young Larry, be good to them. They’re certainly good to you, even when you don’t think so.

The next thing I’d tell my teenage self: Take your education more seriously.

I grew up in a good school district, so the opportunity for a quality education was readily available. For me, though, school was good primarily for hanging out with my friends, laughing and joking my way through the day.

But learning? Forget it. I was gonna study just enough to regurgitate some answers on a test, and no more. Math, science, history…bor-ing!

Unfortunately, this was a habit I carried with me into college. And I wish I hadn’t. Young Larry, take advantage of the opportunity you have to acquire knowledge. It’s a chance not afforded to everyone.

But, probably the most important thing I would tell my teenage self is: be okay with who you are. Don’t be mad or upset or discouraged or envious over who you’re not.

I know this would be the hardest lesson for young Larry to learn, because the peer pressure at that age is just so intense.

I just wanted to be liked, you know? However I had to talk or act to accomplish that didn’t matter, even if it wasn’t who I really was. It was all about popularity.

Back then, I thought the only thing I had to offer was my sense of humor. I thought, if I could make everyone laugh, I would be accepted. I didn’t think I was good-looking; I didn’t think I was cool. I was certainly no big hit with the girls. I pretty much considered myself a zero.

Young Larry, if you don’t hear anything else I tell you, hear this: You’re not a zero. You have your own good qualities about you. Be proud of who you are; don’t be ashamed for not being someone else.

I know that’s a hard lesson, because it’s hard for a lot of grownups, too.

There’s probably several other things I’d tell him, but you know you can hold a teenager’s attention for only so long, am I right? But I would want him to know these three things, at least.

And one other thing: don’t be in a hurry to grow up. It’ll happen soon enough, believe me, and then it’s a rocket ship to middle age and senior citizenry. I know what I’m talking about, here.

Hopefully, my teenage self would take these words of advice to heart. That’s about all any adult can hope.

But, as we all know, the wisdom of age can’t always compete with the cockiness of youth.

Kids, right?