I am a Godfather. No, neither a Don Vito Corleone nor a Tony Soprano-type Godfather; but a Godfather in the eyes of, God. I am the male sponsor of the second son of one of my dearest friends. She named him, Jordan Maxwell. He's intelligent. And respectful. And tall. And lean. And athletic. And handsome. And mouthy. And he doesn't really know me. I moved away from New York when he was almost five years old. I flew back to visit with him two years later, when he was almost seven. Since then, I have never returned. He is now 14. And he doesn't really know me. I am the adult in this scenario, so I am the one who should've made sure he knows me. I have recognized and celebrated every one of his birthdays and Christmases since the day he was born; so he knows I exist and think of him often. But he doesn't really know me. 2010 is looming right over the horizon. I have made a pledge to myself that that is the year I will realize many positive career & personal changes in my life. And one of the most important changes is flying back to the east coast to spend quality, one-on-one time with my Godson. And this is so incredibly significant to me because he doesn't really know me. And -- I truly regret to say this aloud -- I don't really know him, either.