Tuesday afternoon at 2:30, I watched my son Aaron march out of high school and into the world. What will he do? Who will he be?

He is a man already. He drives. He works. He decides. There are few people as honest as he is, whether the question is “did you spill this soda on the carpet?” or “does this dress look good on me?” He says what he really thinks, even if it is not a popular opinion. He commits. He keeps his word. He looks out for his family and friends. Okay, so sometimes he doesn’t notice things. (We all still tease him about the fact that he didn’t notice that his aunt was going to have a baby even when she was 9 months along and wider than she was tall.) He focuses on other things.

When he was younger, cousins and family friends and even sometimes his siblings would bicker over who got to sit next to him. I can see why.

Stamford tomorrow. My rating going in is 1713, near the middle of my field. The last two tournaments in Stamford have not been my best efforts. I hope to play at least reasonably well. I want to make sure I sleep enough and eat healthy food. Modest goals, but those two factors are more than half the battle.

My study recently has been haphazard at best: flashcards in the bathroom, at red lights, in odd minutes waiting in lines. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get back to a regular study schedule.

I like the way my life is going, though. So I’ll accept the random flashcard study for now.

At the end of Back to the Future, Marty wakes to find that life has changed. His dad isn’t bent over and scared of the world. His mom is, well, cute and happy. His brother is wearing a suit instead of a fast food uniform. His sister is less… slutty.

His dream car is in the garage. Good old Biff is outside waxing George’s car instead of thwapping George on the head.

In the theater, we are all thinking, “yeah!” Life has returned to the path it was originally on, before Marty’s parents were brought together by mistakes and guilt and cowardice. This is the way life was supposed to be.

But that, of course, assumes that there is a plan. That the universe wants us to have a better life, that our mistakes and evil deeds and, yes, teetering on a branch with binoculars outside the pretty girl’s house - that all these things interfere with what the universe intends for us. That there is a right path.

Apparently the universe also wants us to drive cool four-wheel-drive trucks.