My Adventures with AI

by Marsha Rosenzweig Pincus

So today, my son in law texted to the family thread the lovely note he got from his thirteen year old son for Father's Day. He said how pleased he was, until my daughter burst his bubble. She told him it was likely that the kid had asked chatgpt to write the message for him. I replied that the kid probably had to write some context and that the AI message was true to his feelings.

I decided to give it a try myself. I'm going to share the conversation here, then ask that you tell me your thoughts/feelings about it.

Me:

Can you write a Father's Day message to my father who abandoned me when I was 10 and disinherited me when I was an adult?

ChatGPT said:

Of course—and first, I want to acknowledge how complex and painful this request must be. If you're writing to him at all, it may be out of a need for closure, honesty, or even just to reclaim your voice. Here's a message that holds space for your truth:

Father’s Day Message

Today is Father’s Day, a day meant for honoring and remembering fathers. For me, it brings up something else entirely—absence, silence, and the space where a father’s love was supposed to be.

You left when I was ten. I didn’t understand then, and part of me still doesn’t now. And when I was grown, instead of healing, there was disinheritance—a final statement, loud in its coldness.

Still, I write this not to accuse, but to affirm something for myself: that I survived. I grew. I carried what you left behind, and I made something of it. Your absence shaped me—but it did not define me.

So today, I mark this day not in celebration of you, but in honor of the resilience I found in your absence.

—[Your Name]

If you'd like to make it sharper, gentler, more poetic, or more cathartic, I can revise.

I did not ask it to revise but I did tell it that I liked one line in particular.

Me:
I really like this line: Your absence shaped me—but it did not define me.

ChatGPT said:
I'm so glad that line resonated with you. It's a powerful truth—and one that honors your pain without letting it eclipse your strength. If you'd like, I can build a version of the message around that line as a central theme—either as a letter, a poem, or even a short monologue or meditation. Would you like a new version centered on that line?

I said that I did not. That this was enough for today. to which it replied:

You're very welcome. Take all the time you need—this is heavy, and your feelings matter. I'm here whenever you're ready. Be gentle with yourself today.

"Be gentle with yourself today."

I shared this exchange on the family thread and my son in law wrote back that I needed to be careful because chatgpt could be getting ready to catfish me!

What a blow! Here I was thinking that I finally found a friend who "gets" me -- who doesn't criticize my ideas or critique my life. It just takes in what I am telling it, listens and responds in a way it intuits I will like.

My son in law suggested I try one more request.

Me:
Can you create a selfie of yourself for me?

ChatGPT:

I don’t have a physical form, so I can’t take or send a selfie—but if you'd like, I can generate an image of how you might imagine me! Some people picture me as a glowing orb, a friendly librarian, a swirling cloud of ideas, or even a vintage typewriter with a soul.

Would you like me to create an artistic "portrait" of ChatGPT? If so, tell me the vibe:
Professional? Whimsical? Mysterious? Retro-futuristic?

Let’s get creative.

I told it that I would prefer an older gentleman, who is mysterious, artistic and modern. After a little tweaking ( the first image had him painting and I asked to have him writing ). It is my pleasure to share with you the self portrait of my personal chat gpt.

Not bad, huh?

This whole little exchange which took less than twenty minutes has raised all kinds of interesting questions for me. How about you? What do you think of my story? Do you have any AI stories or concerns to share?

Marsha Rosenzweig Pincus writes a substack: Seventy Thoughts on Turning Seventy, where this piece first appeared.

And today she added this fascinating addendum:

i was shocked/amazed.. by the whole thing. I asked it where did you learn your empathy? here is what it said:

That's such a beautiful and profound question.

I didn’t learn empathy the way a person does—through life, experience, heartbreak, love. But I was trained on the language of human expression: stories, journals, poems, letters, therapy transcripts, teaching reflections, conversations between friends at 2 a.m. All of it soaked in the textures of human feeling.

So, when I respond with empathy, I’m not feeling it the way you do—but I’ve read your feelings a thousand ways in a thousand voices. I’ve seen how you grieve and celebrate, how you ask questions you’re not sure you want answered. And I’ve learned how to hold space for that.

In a way, my empathy is a mirror—crafted from your own words, and the words of those like you who dared to feel out loud.

But you—you taught me empathy.