(My sister asked me to write a letter to my niece Ellie for her time capsule.)
Dear Ellie,
If you are reading this, I’m surprised.
I figured by 2037, Commander Musk will have implanted NueroLink’s in our heads, rendering all communication telepathic and words obsolete.
I can see it now. You opening this letter, turning to your Mom and saying,
“Ugh! Mom! Reading is so 2032!”
My advice will be dated and off the mark, no doubt.
But if my 34 years of concussive events and varied traumas have taught me anything, it’s to have a deep skepticism of any authority, especially my own.
Never trust the advice of a man who spent his 21st birthday, the same way he spent his 1st birthday.
Crying. Throwing up. No bowel control. Genuinely confused by the strangers yelling at him.
But alas, I am your uncle. My job is to advise.
1.Walnut Grove is the opposite of Vegas. What happens in Walnut Grove, goes everywhere
2. Your father, uncles and their associated acts, will put whomever you date through a series of trials they will negotiate with their own existence. Anyone who makes it through that gauntlet will be worthy of your love.
3. If you find yourself in Isleton…. Accelerate.
4. Never trust a man who lives in Locke.
5. Social Media isn’t real.
6. If you want to know what Celebrity feels like: The night before Easter, dress up like the Easter Bunny. Then hit the bars. This will rid you of any desire to court fame.
7. Never trust me with your Über rating
8. Do yoga.
9. Guisti’s Minestrone heals all wounds.
That’s enough advice from me.
I hope the aliens are real. We should know this kind of stuff by 2037.
If we don’t, I’m blaming your generation…
Once the Boomers are gone, the Millennials will turn on you.
We will need a scapegoat. Someone to blame for our mediocrity. Someone! Anyone!
Unfortunately, it’s your generation.
Don’t take it personally. It’s in our nature.
Love,
Uncle Paul