So what's it like there in the future?

Dear Blog Readers from Another Time,

As this post is being written on Thursday, October 29, 2015, I am very excited to have the chance to communicate with you, the denizens of The Future.

I guess my main question is what life is like where you live in late December? How have things changed? For example, do you still have the Internet? You may not. You may have something completely different. In my time, the Internet was a complex digital network we used primarily to forward emails with non-factual political information to each other. And to swap pictures of cats. And, if I'm being honest here, videos of naked people. LOTS of videos of naked people.

I was also going to ask whether you all travel around via jetpacks, but I realize that's silly because the vision of universal jetpacks NEVER seems to come true, no matter how advanced we as a civilization become. This is confusing, though, because it doesn't seem like particularly complex technology. Maybe you're making strides in this area in your time?

What about sports? I and others like me are avid sports fans here in The Distant Past. I am particularly interested in Cleveland sports. Honestly, back here in October 2015, most Cleveland sports teams are dismal. The exception is our basketball team, the Cavaliers. Are they still competitive in your time? Is Lebron James still playing? Or did he retire? He was a very good basketball player. You may know of him.

Who is the president in your era? Here in October 2015 the president is Barack Obama. Many people here don't like him, which kind of makes me sad because, as much as I disagree with him on certain things, I do like him. I think he and I would get along well together. Is he still alive in your time? Did anyone ever figure out whether he was, in fact, a Kenyan Muslim operative? Or was that just something I read in one of the emails mentioned above?

Anyway, the very fact that you're reading this shows that this blog still exists, which is good, because I have a habit of blogging for several months at a time, then stopping because I claim I don't have any time, then starting up again saying I suddenly do have time, then stopping again, etc. But if my blog is still around in your era, it means something is going right in my life.

Of course, that's assuming I'm even still alive by the time this runs. You never know. I write these posts so far ahead that I may die tomorrow and no one will know because Scott's blog posts just keep showing up week after week.

Well, I appreciate the fact that you took the time to read this, especially if our society has changed so much by your time that we don't even speak or read English anymore. We may have moved on to an entirely new universal language, in which case I appreciate the effort it must take for you to translate these words in your head as you watch them on your advanced personal hologram screen or whatever.

Thanks for reading/deciphering. If you can, please keep the future as clean as possible, as we in this time all plan to get there eventually and would appreciate not having to clean up after you upon our arrival. Take care, and I'll see you soon.

Your pal from the past,
Scott

Pomp, circumstance and my little girl in an overpriced graduation gown

My daughter Elissa graduates from high school tonight.

Like millions of kids before her (and undoubtedly like millions of kids to come), she'll put on that cap and gown, have her name announced, walk across the stage, and sit back down an official high school graduate.

We have, of course, known this moment was coming since the day she was born. But it has only become real to me in recent days.

When you first have a baby, someone points out the year they'll graduate and everyone laughs because it sounds so distant. I remember thinking when Elissa was born in 1994, "Class of 2012! 2012? That's, like, the future. I wonder if we'll all have jet packs by then."

(NOTE: I didn't actually think that last part, but jet packs are for whatever reason part of everyone's vision of the future. There's even a band that calls itself "We Were Promised Jetpacks." I love that.)

Anyway, the class of any year that began with "20" seemed an awful long way away back then. And it was. But in the words of those immortal philosophers Smash Mouth, the years start coming and they don't stop coming. And the kindergartner evolves into the middle schooler, who in turn becomes the high schooler at an alarming rate.

And suddenly it's the day when your child graduates and you have absolutely no idea how that could have happened.

I'm not so much emotional about it as I am just plain amazed. There's no escaping the Universal Parenting Syllogism, which states:

All parents of high school graduates are old.

I am the parent of a high school graduate.

Therefore, I am old.

I have four more of these high school graduations to go and I'm sure they'll all be wonderful, but this is the first one and therefore it has its own reasons for being special. By the time Jack graduates, we'll be veterans at this. Of course, we'll also be in our mid-50s and likely older than 90% of the parents in attendance.

But first things first. Tonight we do it for the first time, and I'm so looking forward to it. Over the years I've coached many of the kids who will join my daughter on that stage, and had many of them over my house for play dates and sleepovers. I know most by name and can remember when they were...well, a lot younger than they are now.

And suddenly we're letting them loose into the world. Yikes. Nothing against any of them, but when you're 18, you're a baby. Seriously, you're almost a literal baby. I'm starting to think the secondary education system should extend into the 16th grade or so, just so these kids can get a little more seasoning, ya know?

But then again, we were all 18-year-old high school graduates at some point and we did OK, right? Some better than others, of course, but still, in the end, we were OK.

And that's seriously all I want for Elissa. I mean, bottom line, when I pray to God about her, I just ask that she be OK. Because "OK" implies a lot of things that parents want for their children: health, happiness, a fulfilling life. All of that. However she gets there, whatever God has in store for her, I just want her to be OK.

If Daddy can be on the receiving end of just one graduation gift this year, I think "OK" would be an excellent choice.