That he cherishes his family and knows how much they love him.
That, like his mother, he cares deeply about people and about the planet; that he shares her empathic view of the world and her oratory and literary talents.
That, like his father, he loves the arts as well as the art of sports; that he emulates his sensitivity toward others, his sense of self and his sense of humor.
That he loves broccoli and Mark Twain and Dr. Seuss and rejects Cocoa Puffs and PlayStation and thinks Heavy Metal is heavy metal.
That he greets disappointment with grace and resilience and handles success with elegance and humility.
That, like his father who was not allowed to play football because it was too risky, he never forgets it when his father doesn’t allow him to play football because it’s too risky.
That he finds his grandmother fun and hip, even though she doesn’t use Facebook and remembers the days when you had to watch TV in real time.
That he’s giving and loving and kind and is never the bully or the bullied; that he doesn’t run for President, not because he wouldn’t be terrific but because who needs the aggravation; that he enjoys great music and wonderful theater and intriguing places; and that he develops deep, meaningful and enduring relationships with others.
I wish for him, of course, the best of everything; and a peaceful world to go with it.
