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I just watched a video of my son, Andrew, posted with his buddy, Theo from Minnesota, who is also an exchange student, and they are singing their hearts out specifically to their parents from across the globe. For me there is something about hearing singing, especially lone voices, that makes me very happy, and to have it be my own boy, well, that is fantastic.

When I was young I always said my kids would have to play piano, or sing, or dance, or somehow have an outlet for expressing themselves besides just talking. I worried about whether anyone would be listening to their talk, because no one was in my childhood, even though I knew it would be me who potentially might not be listening. So to me, it seems wildly important that kids have some kind of art because unless you are a writer words are inadequate to express the inevitable frustrations of life. I insisted my kids take piano lessons for at least five years because I know that that’s enough to really learn how to play. Being Andrew, after the piano lessons he moved on to learning drums and then guitar, and then singing and athletics, and eventually to flying away to live with people in another world.

Seeing Andrew so far from home, locating a guitar for himself, and a buddy to sing with, and serenading us across the internet could not be sweeter. In so many ways it tells me that he is fine and doing well and loving life just as I hoped for him.