Hello, again.  Happy Campus Sustainability Day.  I’m proud to be speaking at Longwood this afternoon, discussing the great green strides this school has achieved — efforts which have been made possible, for the most part, due to my largess.

In other news, my daughter tried to kill herself.

Kids — one minute they’re learning to walk, and the next minute they’re scarfing down a Tylenol parfait and sending you disturbing texts:

“i wnt u 2 no tht i <3 u … :  )”

Jasmine sent that to her mother, who forwarded the message to me.

I admit, I’ve never been very good at understand this texting; I had to ask Gerald, my intern, to act as decoder.

“It says ‘I want you to know that I love you.  Smiley face.’” Gerald said.

This may sound pedestrian enough — but I know from experience that any time Jasmine is texting smiley faces to her mother, you better look the hell out.

Luckily, Jasmine also posted a few of her fond farewells on Facebook, which her RA spotted.  Jasmine was found in bathtub, slowly fading away, typing into her laptop with one hand and texting with the other.  She was rushed to Southside, had her stomach pumped, and has been slated for release today, having suffered no permanent damage.

She seems to be a lot happier.

What about me, though?  How am I supposed to feel that my daughter didn’t even bother to send me a farewell text?  She could have at least CCed it to me!

“I was going to text you,” Jasmine said.  ”I was going to text you after Mrs. Duncan.”

So.  It seems that in my daughter’s absurd hierarchy, her middle  school swimming coach ranks higher than myself.

That’s how I’ve come to this realization:  furiously shoveling money onto an invest does not guarantee superlative dividends.

Just because I have provided Jasmine with an enviable life doesn’t mean that she will appreciate it.  Kids don’t appreciate money; they appreciate human interaction.

Thus, from now on, I will be visiting my daughter every weekend.  If I find myself in Irvine on Friday, I will  jet back to Farmville in time for Saturday brunch.  This may sound extreme, but I love my daughter: she is one investment I don’t want to see self-destruct.

Hope to see you around campus today.

Hello, my name is J. A. Anders.

You may call me Mr. Anders.  Hah!

As you may or may not know, Longwood and I have quite a history.  Back in 1982, when my net value surpassed ten million dollars, I saw in this college a prudent investment opportunity:

A smart fellow named Warren Buffet once said, “Someone’s sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago.”  Well, today I have returned to this campus for the first time in over twenty years, and while those around me are soaked in sweat from the heat and humidity, I myself feel the heart-quelling cool of shade.  That’s right!–the shade of Money Well Invested.

I remember when a damn street ran through here!  Look how pretty it is now!  Hah!  Goodness me.  I could not be happier to be sending my daughter, Jasmine to this college–excuse me, University.  I told Jasmine that I hope she looks up from her Sidekick long enough to realize what a vivacious, inspiring school her father is paying for her to attend.  I also told her to watch out for the boys, especially that cunning group from my Alma Mater, Hampden-Sydney!

"Be careful with those boys, Jasmine! They haven't lost their edge!"

Anyway, have a safe and exciting first week of class.  Be social, but don’t drink to excess–especially on school nights!  Hah!  And always be at the very least courteous when dealing with the Longwood Police–or, as we used to call them in my day, the Longwood Faux-lice.

See you at Parent Week.