August 21, 2026 — We just dropped off my daughter at college. Preparing a daughter to go to college as a freshman is akin to planning a moon landing: vast amounts of equipment must be purchased, staged, and then packed into a single vehicle. The equipment must cover life in an environment yet unknown, and allow for habitation over a defined period. I could go on and on with the analogy (including references to the similarity with NASA’s budget), but it’s late as I’m writing this.
My son’s freshman moving experience could not have been more different: “What do you need for school?” “I don’t know. Stuff” “What stuff?” “I’ll figure it out ….”
Moving in went smoothly. (Getting the vehicle there was anything but smooth, but that’s another story.) We landed the capsule, and within 3 minutes, some young men from Kappa Alpha fraternity grabbed a cart, put everything in it, and took it to my daughter’s room. Gentlemen: I salute you. You did in 5 minutes what would have taken me a heart attack (or a lot of swearing) moving in Southern Heat. I will gladly buy any KA gents a beer if you come across me at an airport.
My daughter is the last child to head off to school. We are officially “Empty Nesters.” At this point, I began to wonder why we hadn’t had one more child. It’s a strange feeling. “So what happens next?”
The college staff gave us some advice: It isn’t good-bye. It’s “see ya later.” We still have a lot more life together. No, we don’t get to see you every morning sitting on the couch eating breakfast. No, we don’t get to hear you every evening practicing your vocal lessons. We get to see you from a little distance taking that one small step for man …
“See ya later” works. My wife and I can handle “see ya later.” Kudos to the college for sharing this secret with us. Thank you for making the tears a little more bearable.
Ted Kittila, Attorney at Law 