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Sara and I are going to Lubbock tomorrow (our last hoorah before baby #2 arrives) for the weekend, and we’re leaving Nate behind. While, statistically, you’re safer on a plane than you are in the ocean or in a car, it’s still scary having the two of us leave as eggs in the same basket, so to speak.

While we have a will (which hasn’t actually been signed by witnesses, which we might need to work out pretty quick), and he’d be left with good people, as a parent, I feel driven to impart both pieces of wisdom and information about me that only I’d know.

With that in mind, if we do die, here are the things I’d like to say:

• It’s okay to cuss. It doesn’t make you a bad person. Just watch where you do it, because it’s not always appropriate.
• If your grandpa (on either side) or your dad is any indication, you’re going to be a fan of alcohol. For better or worse. If you read this, then I might as well start you off ahead of everyone else. Stella Artois. Delicious.
• There’s a good chance you’re going to think differently from other people. Not wrong or right, just different. As a result, if you decide to get into software, you’ll think of data structures differently than most people.
• Your dad wasn’t religious. At all. To the point that he’d change almost any view, given sufficient evidence.
• Your mom was religious. We disagreed about things in that area, obviously.
• I don’t care if you turn out religious or not, but I do want you to be skeptical of everything. There should be a quasar in your head whenever you encounter a new idea or a belief system, critically evaluating it. There’s nothing wrong with searching for the truth. Nothing is sacred, and nothing is beyond questioning.
• Always remember that even if people are different from you, they don’t deserve poor treatment. You’re lucky to live in a time where your smarts reward you socially and economically, but this wasn’t always the case. Act accordingly, and try to leave the world a little better than you entered it.
• Lord of the Rings is a fantastic trilogy, but Big Fish reminds me almost too much of my relationship with my dad.
• Your dad’s favorite TV show, at the time of this writing, is House. Not counting football, which he obsesses over.
• The degree you obtain in college doesn’t matter too much, except that it opens doors to new jobs. What you should really try to learn in college is how to think, how to get along with new people, and how to study. You won’t need to study until then. This has as much to do with you as it does with the terrible public education system.
• From at least 13-15 months, you were a hands down daddy’s boy.
• Never stop reading. It’s really easy to get out of the habit, and by the time you’re old enough to surf  the 15-year-from-now equivalents to present day Reddit or Digg, you’ll have distractions abound. Read books anyways. My favorite book of all time is Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. Sam Harris comes in a close second (The End of Faith, Letter to a Christian Nation).
• In the business of running a house, your mom was the manager. She kept everything in order. She knew what you liked to eat, when you would want to nap, and when you’d want to go to bed. She kept the house in order, and my biggest responsibility was to bring in money. I wouldn’t say one was harder than the other, but both of us worked incredibly hard to make sure you had everything you’d ever need.
• Your mom and I loved each other very much. We started dating in high school (look out for the hotties in physics classes) and had only enjoyed good times since. It only makes sense that you’re absolutely perfect, given that context.
• We didn’t agree entirely on how to parent you. I wanted to breed independence while she wanted to nurture you. Both are healthy motivations, and at least thus far by all indications you’re doing great.
• Lastly, we loved you. Very much. You brightened our day, but at the same time made it harder. I think it was through the ubiquitous new responsibilities that you made us better people, and we loved you even more for it. While you got up too early more mornings than not, it was always a great sendoff to work to see you waving bye. And it was fantastic getting to come home and have you pounding on the door (before I walked in) because you heard the garage open.
• So, we love you. Go out and enjoy the world. It’s beautiful, and we’re thrilled that we were the ones who got to bring you into it. If you’re reading this, we’re sad that we didn’t get to see you impact more of it, but there’s little doubt that you’ll make your mark with enough time. If you choose to have kids, I hope they’re overwhelmingly horrible and astoundingly beautiful at the same time. That’s a truism, though, and you’ll realize that if you have them.