Maybe you can help me. I'm a little bit jealous of my dear friend and former college roommate Darren Hansen. Somehow, as a Father's Day gift, his children managed to secure for him one of your handsome signed photographs. In case you don't remember the exact one, you included the encouraging words, "Dear Darren, reach for the stars." Would that you had the same faith in me that you have for Darren.
Maybe it's not that you have no faith in me, but that you haven't personally expressed it. I'm sure that were you to meet me, you'd see my potential and possibly fit me out with a Tesla Roadster—infinitely more reflective of my true self than my '99 Concorde (a beloved car all the same).
Elon, if you read this letter, please tell me what I need to do to earn your confidence. Do I need to earn a degree in physics? Start a new online payment system? Personally dig a tunnel from east to west in which to install that Hyperloop thing? Slingshot myself to Mars? Work with me. I really need the signed photo to upstage Darren.
I suspect, though, that I'm on the wrong track. I suspect that what really earned Darren that fabulous picture is that he is a good father and that he loves his four children. He always struck me as being one of the kindest human beings on the planet when we were roommates, and it's likely that being a dad has not transformed him into a greasy-toothed troll. I've watched him with his kids. He's playful with them and shows them affection. He teaches them and expresses pride in their accomplishments. I suppose it's no wonder that you would single him out for that framed prize.
I will continue to grow in my parenting, Elon. I will love my kids and wrestle with them. I will prepare them for adulthood while not despoiling the magic of childhood. I will listen to their needs and love their mother so that they have a stronger sense of security. Then, maybe one day, I will receive the coveted Elon Musk picture with such terrific hair (oh, the hair).