Opening a time capsule

In 2010, my first novel was published. I made a time capsule that year, to be opened on January 1, 2020. Which is today.

Here are a few highlights from past me musing on the future that has become the present (if you can follow that):

"Will everyone just do everything by computer in 2020? Will cash money disappear?" While the digitization of everything has continued, cash is still around. For now.

"I hope that by 2020, I have several more books published." I don't know if three more, for a total of four, constitutes "several," but I can't complain.

"I worry that bookstores and libraries will disappear, and that everyone will expect to get stories online, for free." Not yet. So far, bookstores and libraries are making the most of the fact that they do more for communities than just supply reading material. (I'm thankful that they still supply reading material, too.) But people read more and more on screens, and writers still have that age-old problem of how to make a living writing.

"I hope to keep hiking and traveling." Check.

"I hope that by 2020, I have been to Japan, and maybe Hawaii, or back to Europe, as well as seeing more of the US." Check to all of that, except Japan.

"I also hope to find more balance in my life." Ha! Dream on.

"I hope environmental problems haven't become too devastating, especially global warming." Again, dream on.

"I hope the world is more peaceful ..." Sigh.

I can't imagine what 2030 will bring. Hey, I can't even imagine what the rest of this year will bring. I do know my interests have shifted farther from my personal ambitions and toward the health and welfare of the world more generally. I know I'm comfortable with a lot more uncertainty than I used to be, although I'm still more into planning than spontaneity.

I wish you all well, whatever this year and this decade bring us.