Dear Ethan

Just thinking about all the d-heads in the world who strap explosives to their bodies or go on murderous shooting rampages and take out a bunch of innocent people for no good reason other than their own self-absorption, and what a crappy place they make the world for everyone else.

I'm glad you show no signs of becoming such a person.

If you ever get to that point, please take a breath and call me...we'll walk the dogs to the deli and talk about life and love and girls and transgender people and Utopian societies and how PC your school is. You can use the F word as much as you want, and we'll work through it.

I hope you know that I don't care whether you become a doctor or a writer or a pro wrestler or whatever. Do what you want to do. Be who you want to be.

If you want to go to college, go to college. If you want to live with us when you're 25 and go clubbing every night (which is what you once said you planned to do), I'm actually fine with that. I'm so grateful to have you in my life that I really don't care about the details.

Just be cool to other people along the way, okay? Things will work out. Even if they don't they do.

I just found this old picture of you and Aaron, and it made me smile. Even when I'm 95, I'll still think of you like this. If your grandson visits me in the urine-smelling dining hall of my retirement home, I'll probably call him Ethan. He'll wonder what the hell I'm babbling about. When you're old you mostly just remember the things you loved most.

Happy birthday, by the way. You're a great son.