To the Son I Never Had

Have we ever stopped to think what we could tell our children if asked what sort of legacy we, as a generation, are leaving to them? And what could we answer? That we are leaving them the biggest national debt ever accumulated? That we have been squandering their present, which happens to be our future? That we have poisoned their only home, spaceship, in the universe, that is, Mother Earth? Because, no doubt, we have been happily mortgaging our future, which is their present and, thus, not ours anymore? That we have been ethically callous, and that for that, "we are very, very sorry ." The author knows that, and asks forgiveness to "the son he never had," that is, the next generation, with the hope that our species, which also have the potential to redress the wrongs, will be able to do so. His recent essay, the one you have in your hands, is a last analysis of our failures, which will profoundly affect the next generation, together with an apology for the undesirable legacy we are leaving them. Now, you figure something to tell your children, besides being sorry.