This is a letter to a friend, Caleb Pierce for his birthday in August.  A friend of his has commissioned us (Caleb's friends) to write a letter to him for his birthday to put in a scrap book.  I can't think of anything more sweet.

Why am I noding a personal letter for someone's birthday in a generally public place (I'm sure this will be found by Google)?  As stated by Mink, I paraphrase, everything2 is for people who like to write about their passions, among many other things.

Should the world know about a kind and heartfelt person?  Yes!
Should the world know about a talanted, smart and intertesting individual?  Certainly!
Hence, I am going to node about someone who fulfills these life categories to the brim.

Dear Caleb,
You have been, and I'm sure, always will be a wonderful friend.  The time I have spent with you has been like putting dog-ears in the pages of my book of life; whenever I flip back through the pages, the dog-ears make it so easy to read the words once again.  All of the memories I have associated with you have been great!  My first clear memory of you was at a swing dance held at school.  I was flabbergasted by your ability to dance.  You were dancing like the world was going to end the next day. 

I remember my favorite conversation with you, when we exchanged our ideas about everything, over lunch.  It was that conversation which solidified our friendship.  The most profound exchange of our conversation was our thoughts on the creation story offered by the Christian Bible.  Your idea is simple and carefree: This is how The Bible says it was done, that is what you believe, and that is it.  Simple, clean; no worries about which particle did what or when what did how or somesuch, The Bible has the answer.  My idea of creation is a little weirder.  I believe that God made a bunch of rules that particles follow, added some material to the universe, and then hit the "go" button.  I can't remember how long we talked about everything and nothing, but it seemed completely necessary and unnecessary at the same time.

Two other times I have deeply enjoyed with you were parties at your house.  The parties that one finds on or around a college campus are like shuffle board tournaments compared to your parties.  The breakfast for dinner party was great, and the end of it was fantastic (I do not mean to imply that I wanted to leave).  We sat around playing music and singing, and it reminded me how much I missed playing and performing music.  I will come by and play with my alto saxophone some day, although I need to start practicing again. 

The party where we played telephone pictionary, which I had never played before, was possibly the most hilarious party ever.  My card started with:

The chicken-piloted tank barrels down the road toward a pile of explosives; which are on fire.

And ended with (the contribution of Ingrid):

Red the Robin took his Self-Esteem class a little too seriously. He decided that he deserved nothing less than world domination, captured a tank from the U.S. Army, and conquered most of North America in a mere fortnight. "That just goes to show the power of positive thinking;" his proud counselor said.

I will probably start a collection of these, being the pack rat that I am, because they are so great.  I really hope to play this with you and everyone else again. 

Although I have known you for a relatively short time, you have profoundly affected me,  and I am thankful for that.  You have a viral sense of humor, an impeccable wit, a surprising knowledge of dance, and a sharp intellect.  I hope that you have a wonderful birthday, and that everyone's letters to you will warm your heart. 

Happy Birthday!


P.S. For your peace of mind, I still have your Virginia Western: School for the Homeschooled DVD; I still haven't gotten around to copying it yet, sadly.