I started writing these letters to “Jack” my Freshmen year in college in my hand-written journals, which I continue to do. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t really know who Jack was/is. I think the idea of keeping a diary was too feminine, and so letters to make believe people seemed at the time a much better idea.
More recently, I think Jack is a singular expression of my future children. I write to him/them as I age through the years, hoping maybe someday they’ll read what I was thinking and experiencing when I was their age.
Maybe they’ll laugh at my idea of even keeping a written record of my thoughts and foolishly hoping they’d find it interesting.
But maybe though – and this is what I pray – they’ll see that their father is human, that he viewed life as a life-long learning lesson, and that the only way we can ever progress in life is if we stop and learn along the way.