Candlelight Vigil Birthday

So today is my birthday. Aunt Barbara put together a little homage to me, showing off several poorly chosen haircuts. I also popped up on Bonny's blog (with my fav pic with Ara & Ella, and being ridiculous at my Grandpa's funeral). Note about Bonny: you steal cookies she is saving in the freezer and she will never forgive you.

Birthdays are always a problem for young, single, self-effacing, humble men like myself. You sort of want to do something, but that means you have to organize it yourself, which feels odd. So sometimes, like last year, I do nothing (but Bob wrote me a song last year so it was fine, see down below). Once, I celebrated my birthday shooting guns in a sketchy part of LA. (Back when I was working and could afford to blow $500 on guns and ammo--I mean "invest" in guns in ammo.)

This year, while up at 4AM a few days beforehand, I thought: "What I really want is a candlelight vigil for my birthday." And so I planned it out and sent out an evite. 20-30 of my friends here in Palo Alto met up at the Stanford Memorial Church compline service at 9 PM--choirs of chanting monks in a (fake) candlelit atmosphere. At 930 we went out to have a candlelight vigil. Dressed in black I gave everyone a double-handed handshake: "Thank you for coming" I whispered. "Your support means a lot to me" I said to the next one. We then sang a hymn holding candles.

After the opening hymn, we had an open-sharing space for poetry, thoughts, and dance. People shared haiku poetry, odes to me, and other embarrassing thoughts. I think one of the best was from my dear friend Katherine who introduced a quote about a woman being force-fed in a prison by saying "this describes what it's like to be friends with Kaahl." Later on she followed up with this email:

I feel really lucky to have you for a friend. Although I dislike your arrogance, sulkiness, and generally argumentative temperament, I think that on balance, you're pretty all right.

Friends like these...

We closed by singing an irish drinking song--whiskey in the jar, ate cupcakes that Jenni graciously made for the occasion (despite a crazy work load). Many more sent notes and cookies and, in Bob's case, egg mcmuffins. Two of my nieces sent kind notes--Karolina a descriptive poem that spelled my name: Ka-pow, Awesome, Rules, Laughter, and Amalia told me I "rook" but I am "a little weird."

As I was walking across campus last night, a friend said thought it would have been even better if it were a surprise party. My response: "If I had someone in my life who both cared about me enough to plan a birthday party and weird enough to do something I would like, I would be married."

Drop Dead Karl, It's Your Effing Birthday by Bob Rawle