Five-twentythree.

For some reason I've always thought of Karls birthday in numbers. I know my own is August 26, my brother's October 20, the few birthdays I know, in fact, I think of as a month and a day... except Karl's. As long as I knew his birthday, I knew it as 5/23.

It's a day that's coming soon, and I thought I should share some thoughts. I'm organizing a little get together (or a big one - who knows? maybe organizing isn't the right word) in honor of Karl. It means some planning and come cleaning, and a little stress, but it's worth anything to get Karl's collection together in one place. If you knew him and spent birthdays with him in the past, I hope you'll be able to come. We'll have brunch at Circle K Sunday, and likely some sort of get together Saturday afternoon/evening. Details to follow.

There is another date that may draw people together, and it's not too far off either. That one, August 22, has an inescapable sorrow, so I plan to let it be more subdued, and more personal. Last year I planned my own day of remembrance, and invited others to participate as they wished. This year will likely be similar.

But his birthday, I hope, will stir happier memories. There's a hundred stories I hope Elliot will know by heart, and be heartily sick of by the time he's a sulky teen, but deeply appreciative of as an adult. He won't know them if you don't come tell them. There's even more that he probably shouldn't ever hear, but still I hope he'll want to.

I want everybody together, remembering Karl the way he was happiest and most alive - in a crowd of family and friends. I think he would prefer to look down on us laughing together. Not, of course, that he would want us crying alone, but I think we share our grief better in small groups, in quiet moments, through our writing, or by any means we each find to hold on and let go at the same time.

So please join me for official or unofficial time together next weekend. Let's remember him laughing so hard at his own joke that nobody else could understand what he was saying, remember him falling asleep in the bamboo, remember the mad Scotsman, the exuberant storyteller, the brilliant teacher, the loving and devoted friend and father...

When you think of him, on 5/23 or any other time, please indulge me in remembering him at his best and brightest, lighting up every heart in the room, and let that glow illuminate the darkness of his absence.