Just like when i was a kid, my friends are getting older. Everyday.
And when they have birthdays, i ignore them, mostly. Except with some regularity Facebook reminds me that i should be taking this day seriously. So i write a quasi snarky love letter to these people. Here is a recent one to Keenan
Forget birthdays. Instead i meditate on the long productive arch of your life. i know no one else who can build buildings with only chocolate chip cookies (okay, they were really good and fresh baked and all). Someone who sees that the joy of living in community is integrally tied with your ability to clean up messes you had nothing to do with making. i see a man who designed a home school curriculum which if employed nationally would not only end all wars and poverty but would result in fantastic bizarre playground construction from coast to coast. A man who successfully fights entropy and keeps old mills from falling to the river with some combination of cheerful intent, crafty asking for help and endless fortitude. You are a community hero and we are lucky to have you.
He is the son of a CIA turncoat who would come to Twin Oaks for a visitor period perhaps 30 years ago now and never left (tho he travels extensively).
I met Keenan years before i lived at Twin Oaks. He came to visit us at Paradox House in San Francisco. He installed our shower curtain over our weird bathtub. We called it “the Keenan” for years after he left. Most people who called it that never met him.
And this is a bit his legacy all manner of unusual things which he created which other people use and enjoy, often without even knowing he is responsible.
Happy unbirthday my friend. And many returns of the day.