“Seeing into the future? Maybe. But the real vision is daring to look closer—at now.”

—Extra E(Ad)dition for a NY Times Essay that didn’t exist on this day in 1947.

The world at large knows fully well that I’m always walking around with something rumbling around in my head. Half a paragraph. A misplaced metaphor. An idea that swears it’s a New Yorker masterpiece if I’d only give it five quiet minutes.

Today, though, it’s something else. It’s a song. If you’ve been around as long as I have—seventy-eight years today, thank you very much—you probably know it, especially if you like high notes of hope and courage.

It’s “I Can See Clearly Now,” released by Johnny Nash in 1972. It hit the Billboard Hot 100, Billboard Adult Contemporary charts, and Cash Box. I’m not surprised. From the moment those opening bars roll in, with that bright, easy rhythm that feels like sunlight tapping at your window, you’re already halfway to feeling better about the world. And then the lyrics land with their uncomplicated hopefulness:

“I can see clearly now, the rain is gone… It’s gonna be a bright, bright sun-shiny day.”

It’s a song that doesn’t pretend to be profound. It is profound because it’s simple, clean, declarative, and certain. The rhythm carries you forward. The lyrics lift you up. It’s optimism set to a beat you can sway to. It’s a three-minute promise that whatever clouds you’re carrying won’t last forever. The doubts that pile up like storm fronts won’t last. The troubles that cling like a stubborn fog won’t last. The little fears that hover just above eye level won’t last. Even the big ones that black out the sky won’t last.

Nash calls them “obstacles in our way,” but we all know what he means. Heartbreaks. Hesitations. Heavy thoughts. Anything that dims the day before it even begins. His song doesn’t erase them. It dissolves them, one bright measure at a time.

So for three minutes, the rain really does feel gone. And even if the sun isn’t shining yet, you believe with full, uncomplicated certainty that it’s on its way.

So there you have it. My. First. Clue!

And somewhere I hear a chorus of readers asking:

Clue to what, exactly?

All right, if you insist, I’ll go ahead and tell you what I was going to tell you anyway.

Like I said, it’s my birthday. You’ve probably already marked your calendars, because I do tend to make a fuss every year.

And yes, I’m talking about my birthday presents. Or rather, my presence.

Every year, I receive lovely gifts, but the silliest, most ridiculous one always comes from me. I buy myself something special—something utterly frivolous—and I wrap it in the most over-the-top paper I can find. Then I write myself a card declaring, in no uncertain terms, how truly spectacular I am.

Because guess what? I am spectacular.

Guess what else? You are, too.

This year’s gift? Well, it’s so far out there I’m not sure I dare tell you what I’ve done.

But I will give you another clue or three, like the one I just gave you.

Vision. It has to do with my eyes.

“Good God, no! I’m not having cataract surgery!”

Why, you’ve got some nerve even thinking such a thing—let alone blurting it out for the world to hear. Maybe in a few years I’ll blurt it out myself, but not this year.

Any guesses? None? Oh, come on. You can do better than this.

All right then—one more hint.

Glasses!

And to that clue I’ll add a question: Do you remember those 3-D glasses we used to wear at the movies? The cardboard ones with one red lens and one blue? The kind that made the screen come alive and sent spaceships flying toward your popcorn, dinosaurs roaring in your lap, and your best friend ducking beside you like it might all be real?

Those gloriously goofy things that made the world look both ridiculous and absolutely amazing at the same time?

Try to remember. You can, I’m sure.

I sure did when I opened the mail not too long ago and saw what I saw. I saw the future coming right at me. Really. Right at me.

I knew immediately: this was it. My birthday splurge.

Might I have a drumroll, please, before my big reveal?

TRRRRRRRRRA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA—WHAM-BLAM-KA-THOOOOOOM—FWOOOOSH-CRACKA-LACKA-VROOOOOM—TSSSHHHH-KA-SHIIIIIIINE!

And now, My Dear Readers, I am pleased to announce that I treated myself to …

… a pair of sleek, impossibly cool Ray-Ban Meta AI glasses with dark gray frames and purple transition lenses. They’re futuristic enough to make James Bond fumble for the manual. They gleamed like they already knew my secrets. The ad promised, “Experience Meta AI like never before,” and I swear it winked at me.

And yes, I bought them.

I didn’t need them. I just got new glasses in June. But I wanted them because something in me knew this was more than eyewear. This was foresight.

So brace yourself (and maybe pour yourself a dram of Bunnahabhain): I have officially joined the ranks of the cyborg chic.

I’d love to tell you I can see clearly now, to croon along with Johnny Nash, but the truth is—literally speaking—I can’t see much better.

Figuratively? Metaphorically? You bet! I can see better and farther than ever.

I’ve been writing about artificial intelligence since the early chatbots of 2021. I’ve talked about robots, about ChatGPT, about how this strange partnership between humans and machines is unfolding faster than anyone expected—certainly faster than most people are ready for.

And I, for one, don’t want to be left behind blinking in the dust.

I want to experience it. I want to learn from it. I want to understand where it’s leading us—not from the sidelines, but right in the thick of it.

So these glasses aren’t just a frivolous birthday splurge. They’re my passport to the next chapter. They’re literally my lens on the merging of human curiosity and machine intelligence.

That merger is coming, you know, when man and machines become one. It’s called the Singularity. A year or so ago, it was projected for 2037. Now I think futurists will be lucky if it waits five. And if that’s true, then I plan to be ready. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to be resistant. I want to be curious. I want to be awake. I want to be willing to see.

I’ve spent seventy-eight years watching the world evolve in ways my childhood self could never have imagined. And yet, here I am, ready to keep moving forward.

My Ray-Ban Meta glasses are just a step in that direction: a gift to my future self, a wink to the present, and a promise that I’ll keep exploring what’s possible. Because for me, this isn’t just about sight. It’s about vision.

There you have it. Now you know. This seventy-eighth birthday gift might be my best ever from-me-to-me gift. These new AI glasses don’t just sit on my face—they announce something. They say I’m still moving forward, still curious, still willing to step into whatever’s next and report back with a grin.

I didn’t just give myself a gift. I threw down a gauntlet. Johnny Nash didn’t promise perfect vision; he promised guts. These AI glasses may not sharpen every detail, but they supercharge my curiosity. Maybe that’s the real clarity: strapping on the future, stepping into the frame, and letting life rocket toward me in full, outrageous 3-D.

If the future wants to come screaming at my face, fine by me. I’ll meet it head-on, glasses gleaming, ready for the light—and absolutely ready for my close-up, grinning from ear to ear.