What are you up to now?

Dear FutureMe, Well, here it is almost ten years since this letter was written and mailed, by you, to you. Happy 50th birthday! You're probably already reflecting a bit on the past, and thinking that now maybe you finally are, really, old. Well, just like when you turned 40, the answer is no. You're just older than you were yesterday. So, where are you now? Still married to Joyce? Any kids yet? In a few day after this letter is sent, you'll be heading to Cayo Coco for the second time and your first wedding anniversary. You're going to give her the matching other side to her wedding set. She thinks you couldn't afford it, you sneaky dog. Speaking of dogs, do you still have Mollie? If she's gone, and no one's looking, go ahead and cry a little. You would have ten years ago. How long did Romeo live? That horse went through a lot with you, I hope you did the right thing when the time came and let him pass with his dignity, then I hope you took the day off work. I'm choking up a little just thinking of him gone. You probably are too. It's OK, you know. Really. Now, go look out some of their photos and remember them. What about Mom and Dad? Today, in 2005, I still can't imagine them gone, but I don't hold out much hope that they'll be there for you now. I can only hope that when they passed it was peaceful and painless. I hope you had the guts to wear your kilt to the funerals, and that you or Ian were able to find good pipers. They will, from my perspective, deserve no less. Now, go look out some of their photos and remember them. What are you doing for money these days? You're still at Mitchell's in Dec 2005, and hoping to find work with that new 2nd class ticket of yours. The Colonsay mine might phone this week, if you're lucky. Were you? Now, on to the business at hand. At the time you sent this, you were beginning to be aware that there were some things you did in your past that you wish you hadn't. Sure, some of the reasons seemed pretty good at the time, and maybe a couple of them were, but it's never too late to make amends. You should contact Shawn. You need to let him know why you couldn't talk to him. You need to allow him to be very angry for what he'll see as a needless excommunication. You need to give him time to forgive you, and trust that eventually he will. I actually hope that you have already done this, as it is already heavy on your mind ten years ago. If that's the case, forward this email to him. Let him see. You should have, by now, found a way to be who you are and still be more amiable in the eyes of others. Everybody appreciates a smart man, nobody likes a smart ass. If this letter finds you near any sort of marital discord, and you're thinking the worst, I'd like to remind you that you've always had a self-destructive streak and you need to pull your shit together and think about what you're doing. You have thrown away more love than many people see in a lifetime. Why? Because you don't allow people to love you. Why? Because you don't fully love yourself. You'll never be perfect, Ken. Never. Fortunately, you don't have to be. She'll love you anyhow. Really. You should do the same. If you're facing any sort of life-ending disease, or have been rendered incapacitated by accident or illness, I hope you have found the strength to deal with it. At this point, I'm not sure I could. You've always thought that if you were seriously hurt to the point of partial or total handicap that you'd rather die. I hope you've found that there might be more to life. If you haven't, I hope you have good friend that will carry out your wishes in the event it's required. Call your brother. You don't do it nearly often enough. Call Brent. It's his birthday, too. If you have children, I want you to remember how much you were looking forward to them. 40 years old seems like too late to be starting a family, but I'm hoping it won't seem that way in 2015. Give them all a hug from their yet-to-be Dad. Teach them to be honourable, to play fair but tough. Teach them to enjoy science, old cars, a good book. Encourage them to love animals, for what you know they'll get back. Teach them to ride, even if you no longer own a horse. Remember how you always wanted to be around horses, but never got the chance until later in life? Let 'em have a head start. Keep playing soccer, if you can. I'm sure they can do wonderful things with knees in 2015. If you ever play rugby again, you'll still love it, and likely regret it. You don't have to play, you'll always be a member of that team. If you're lucky enough to be rich, I'd like to remind you that you were always going to be good to people that were good to you when you weren't rich. Follow through. You may be an athiest, but karma is still a bitch. If you're poor... well, you've been there before, and made it. In most ways, you never really were poor, just short of cash. Remember that. If this site still accepts email to the future, copy this one to a new message, add to it, and set it for another ten years. You always wanted a chance to go back and tell yourself a few things... this is the next best thing. Live long, Ken... and prosper. Me.