Dear Jimmy,

This is the email I would have been writing you. I haven't heard from you since December 22. Yes, it's driving me out of my mind. But I am determined to let you live your own life. Be your own man. A man who should CALL HIS MOTHER ONCE IN AWHILE!! Even if he has nothing to say. So I'm writing here instead.

Nothing's really happening here. Randy buys whatever crap he wants, I hold myself back so we don't just spend ourselves into oblivion. I get to be the adult. I'm tired. I want a life of my own, but I guess I'm too afraid to go after it.

The Year of Being Happy?

I haven't heard from my son in three weeks. I guess that's not a big deal. But one of the days was Christmas. I guess I royally messed up his life. I should have told Randy and Sandy to knock it off, but I was too timid. It's only been three weeks, though. I, in all probability, am making way too much out of it.

I wanted to save the money. Now one or two guitars, some gun stuff later and I'm already down a thousand dollars. I know Randy would tell me I could buy whatever I wanted, and that would be true. But someone has to be the adult. Someone has to put the brakes on their spending. I wish it didn't always have to be me, but there you go.

I wish I had someone to talk to. I guess that's why I still have this. It's not big, or witty, or important, or well traveled, but it's important to me. It gives me that place I can dump all my worries, troubles, what-have-you, without hurting people, without looked down upon.

I still wish my son would send me an email. If just to say, "Kiss my ass".