Denver

As you recall, we took the kids to that cabin a few months ago. Diana and I asked Elijah what he wanted to do while he was there. Go fishing? Hike? Brawl with some townies?

His reply was, “I want to see some stars.”

It hit me like a punch in the chest. My son had spent three years of his life on planet Earth without seeing an actual star.

I’d been so busy being a bigtime Chicago advertising jerk that I denying my sons their right to climb trees and catch wild animals and then get bitten by wild animals and then go to the hospital for twelve rabies shots in their stomachs.

So we decided to move the family to Denver!

Yep, instead of raising our kids to be gun toting Chicago gang members (I was hoping for Crips, Diana was hoping for Bloods), we’re going to raise our kids as pot addled ski bums.

I got a really great job at a small advertising firm not far from downtown Denver. There are enough good neighborhoods around that my commute will be less than 5 minutes. And, as everyone who I interviewed with said, “Brah, you’re like, 20 minutes from fresh powder. Brah. Brah.”

The move is not without its downside. We’ll be leaving our favorite people in the world, Uncle Steve, Aunt Pam, Finny and Rory. I’ll miss them with stabbing pains through my heart. But I’m hoping my time with them will move from several short spurts a week to long, luxurious vacations in the mountains.

And that goes for the rest of your guys. This is your official invitation. If you can drag your sorry butts to Colorado, you’re staying with me. And I’m taking you to…uh…that mountain where they do the skiing and stuff.

More details to follow.