Congratulations, Dr. Weir!

My oldest son, Peter, successfully completed his work to earn a PhD in neuroscience yesterday at the California Institute of Technology.

I got the news in a text message from him while I was in a business meeting in San Jose. I held my emotions in check, given the environment, but inside, I started remembering him as a child -- happy, precocious, strong.

Such an athletic little boy, but always also insatiably curious.

Always has loved the outdoors, whether hiking, playing sports, or surfing off the coast.

Fearless -- as an athlete.

Relentless and persistent, when solving problems, in math or science.

Caring, sweet, big-hearted about people.

My oldest son, Dr. Peter Thomas Weir. I could not be prouder.

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Take Your Kids To Work Day

For as long as I've been a father I've taken my kids to work with me from time to time. Every one of the six has visited my office (when I've had an office) and they've all also went on at least one business trip with me somewhere in the U.S. The older kids also traveled with me (and their Mom) overseas.

These days, of course, I don't have a conventional job. I work for myself.

That doesn't stop me from taking the kids to work, when an opportunity arises.

Tonight, one did, so I did. I took my youngest son to a demo featuring startups down at Stanford. These are groups of people who have a much better chance than most to become successful, which in our society's value system, means rich.

He listened to all of the presentations and had some interesting comments about their companies and products.

Being a parent, these days perhaps more than before, means exposing our kids to as many of the new options as possible. Who knows whether they can become entrepreneurs; whether they have the urge to go in that direction, or the perseverance to do so.

But I figure the least I can do is open a window on this new world for my kids, by taking them to the virtual office whenever I can.

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A Few Good Things About Today

I met with one of the young entrepreneurs I've gotten to know over the past few years this morning at a cafe near my apartment, while my teenaged sons slept in. Now school is out, they are luxuriously experiencing the early days of summer, truly one of life's great fantasies, if you are young (or a teacher).

Through the eyes of my children, I've been enjoying this time of year for some three decades now. As they get excited about not being required to be somewhere and do something, my mind drifts back to my own childhood, and how I felt once the end of the school year rolled around.

I was a dreamy kind of child, lost much of the time in my own head. Sickly by the age of nine, I probably lost some of my social ability to connect with other kids during a long stretch when I had to stay in bed, and learn from a tutor, as opposed to teachers at a school.

I'm sure I was lonely, not being able to play with friends, but I also developed a powerful fantasy life, imagining everything from entire leagues of sports teams with multiple teams playing whole seasons, to a newspaper covering politics (from a conservative perspective), to a strange world of interconnected pathways through the cornfields that stretched far beyond the backyard of our house on the outskirts of Bay City, Michigan, to the train tracks to the south.

***

My entrepreneurial friend has an idea for a digital magazine. I hope we can work together on it. I decided today to take some of my dwindling pool of resources and invest them in the company he runs. Because I believe in him and that the company he heads will be very profitable over the coming years. It was a risk that others had advised me not to take, but I made the decision to take this risk.

Life isn't always best-lived in a risk-averse mode. Sometimes, we all have to step out of our comfort zones and try new things.

Today, despite grave financial pressures, I chose to take a risk because it gives me hope in someone and something. It connects me to the future, which I also experience through my children and grandchildren.

Since our part of the future, once we are old, is limited, my real motivation in making this investment is on their behalf -- my kids and their kids. I very much want to generate some wealth for them over the next decade or so, while I can reasonably expect to remain healthy and active.

***

By the middle of today, it was time for the first of my two showdowns with the IRS, which is auditing my ex-wife and me for the first year we were divorced, 2009.

When the notice of her audit arrived, she cried. When mine arrived, I exploded in anger and broke a ceramic planter out back.

That is one measure of the difference between a man and a woman.

I assured her I would help her handle her audit. Today we met at the federal building and met her auditor. He was a likeable fellow, middle-aged, with a friendly smile and what I think was an Oklahoma accent.

After less than an hour, we'd resolved everything. It appears she will owe little, if anything, in back taxes plus fines. If she does have to pay, it's because one of the companies she freelanced for in 2009 failed to send her a corrected form, covering $750 in income that she apparently earned in 2009, even though they never paid her until 2010.

IMHO, that company, based in New York, should pay for their error, and not her.

But one way or another, this first part of my two-part Orwellian nightmare this auditing season appears close to being over.

***

You know the best part about today, a sunny day here in San Francisco?

Thirty-six years ago I became a Dad. And it doesn't get any better than that!

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Happy Birthday!

On this Memorial Day, our family celebrated my oldest daughter's birthday with a yard-clearing party. We made lots of progress and had lots of fun.

Happy Birthday, Laila!

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I Miss the Campfires

Three days away from my first confrontation this year with the IRS. Wednesday's meeting is on behalf of my ex-wife. Having prepared diligently these past two months, I hope the outcome is favorable to her.

It's a holiday weekend, obviously. Here, in the Mission, Carnival seems to have lost some of its luster. The crowds didn't show up this year, maybe because the weather was unfavorable.

I'm happy they didn't. The noise, the litter, the drunken groups shouting outside -- all are welcome to take their action elsewhere.

(Spoken like an old man who likes his peace.)

It's also Memorial Day.

This was a very special holiday in my family when I was growing up, though it's never achieved any sort of similar status with my families out here on the West Coast.

Back in Michigan, it was one of the three magical summer weekends; the other two being the Fourth of July and Labor Day weekends.

Our family would pack up our camping gear and head to the lakes and campgrounds we favored. My Dad and I would fish; my sisters and I would swim; the whole family would hike and pick blueberries; and we'd eat around campfires at night, often with large groups of friends.

Looking back on it, we were "rich," even though by financial measures, we were poor. My parents never let us feel poor, and they knew how to squeeze the best out of whatever resources we had.

Theirs was a generation that had lived through the Depression and WW2. They'd known far greater deprivation and challenges than what we were dealing with in the 50s and 60s.

The problem with Baby Boomers like me is that we got used to a better standard of living, and have had trouble adjusting as the U.S. economy sheds its advantages during a broader globalization that is helping much poorer, more desperate people around the globe improve their circumstances.

All in all, these are good and necessary adjustments.

But for those of us caught in the vice grip of falling income, higher costs, age, and the loneliness of living in the "Facebook Age," i.e., the age of virtual friendships as opposed to the real kind, let me tell you much more important things have been lost, perhaps irretrievably.

Or maybe these are just the sad musings of an aging man, living alone, yearning for more connections to ward off the shivering of time, with its relentless assault.

Somehow, "liking" something on Facebook just can't compete with story-telling over S'mores around a campfire with friends and family.

I officially now am missing the old days. I guess that is either a sign of old age, senility, or both.

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