With the first tear in the wrapping’s seam, I saw the two promised words in bold black font: ROCK BAND. And the imaginary choir sang Hallelujah like they do in movies when something magical or revelatory happens. Virtual guitar riffs and techno drum beats in my imagination made me want to dance. Multi-colored rhythm squares burst to the beat of my happy birthday song.
I was immediately blasted backwards in time to my 13th birthday, when I had gotten “The Jaminator” from my parents. This was an electronic guitar that looked a whole lot like the one from Rock Band, though a much more primitive form of it. For its time, it was hot and edgy. Well, sort of edgy. But anyway, I actually don’t even compare these two gifts because they are both electronic game-guitars. The similarity to which I refer is not in the gifts themselves, but in the experience of receiving them. In my memory, my thirteenth birthday was like all my others: Special. They were special because my family made them special. Because we had our rituals, we did my favorite things, and we were all together. We ate at the restaurant of my choice, which was always of the Mexican variety. We’d go pick up Nana, usually in the snow or on icy roads. We’d go out to dinner, and then we’d drive around the rich neighborhoods and look at the elaborate Christmas light displays. That particular birthday, I had strayed from my Mexican routine. I ate a mound of salad covered in Thousand Island dressing and extra croutons. I remember that, because that’s what I expelled after having to run – mid-meal – into the girls’ bathroom at Souper Salad. I had a flu bug or something, but refused to skip the drive to look at people’s huge, sparkling holiday homes after dinner. So I curled up in the “way-back” of Dad’s silver, hatchback corolla, and watched the twinkling lights from out the rear window, as my eyes swiped the sky with the revolution of the wheels.
As I stood there in Chris and Keely’s living room, turning 30 among a growing group of 19 and 20 year-olds who had come to share in my friend Marlena’s and my joint birthday celebration, I felt young in a way that almost exceeded actual childhood. This was because with this day, came the affirmation that age truly is a state of mind. And that within our spirits, youth is pure and eternal. We never have to grow up if we don’t want to. Ironically, this is one of the most spiritually mature lessons we can learn.
Chris and I ripped open the box and hurriedly took every individual part out of its packaging. The guitar said Fender Stratacaster on it. Its features were subtler – somehow more “grown-up” - than its predecessor from Guitar Hero. This was the brand new, highly anticipated game for Play Station 3: Rock Band, winner of several Video Game Awards including “Best Soundtrack” and “Most addictive game”. The box was loaded with parts, each one more exciting than the last! We unearthed a microphone, a neck strap for the guitar, a full drum set complete with kick pedal, and the coolest drumsticks ever, that have the Rock Band logo on them! We could hardly contain our excitement and wanted to play right then, but people were streaming in the door now, so we decided it would be best if we put it all back in the box and come back to it later.
The house filled with people, as yet unfamiliar to me, who all turned out to be really nice, cool, and fun to talk to. Marlena and I blew out the twenty-two candles on our joint cake, which represented Marlena’s tender years. But even though thirty candles wouldn’t fit on our small carrot cake, (my favorite), I was thrilled to be reaching this pinnacle age. A milestone. We both made wishes, and blew ridiculously on trick candles that went out but came back alive, as with the aid of some black magic, just seconds after.
The whole, black-lit garage was full of people…playing. This is what Chris and Keely’s house is all about: Play and Fun. Some played pool, some played foosball. The bumper pool and ping-pong tables were active. Darts flew toward the bulls-eye. The fish tank glimmered like a miniature ocean under a spinning disco ball, and music spun from the I-pod speakers. I kicked some unsuspecting young men’s butts at ping-pong, and they in turn flattered me like clumsy boys competing for my attention.
Marlena and I each wore beautiful leis made of tuberose and Plumeria. We had also each had a candy necklace attached to our smaller gifts from Keely, which we now wore around our festively decorated necks. I began talking to a girl named Gina about how the little candies on those necklaces are kind of gross, to which she suggested I try and get rid of them. I asked her to eat one, which she did. This gave me an idea. I decided I would work through the entire party circuit and attempt to empty my elastic string of rocky little sugar beads. I began walking to each person and every group of people, explaining that it was my birthday wish for each and every party-goer to eat one piece of candy from the necklace, and then tell me why they chose the color they did. It was a fun idea that quick became an obsession. Or at the least, a commitment I decided I wasn’t willing to leave unfulfilled. I thought it would be a cool experiment in human individuality. And it would be a fun way to get to know people. AND I could get rid of my yucky candy!
I put the question out there to the partiers, and when asked to bite off one candy circle, the vast majority obliged and humored my wish. After getting through everyone playing and watching ping pong in the driveway, the girls playing bumper pool, the two guys in the garage playing pool, the other two guys watching the pool game, and half the people in the living room, I decided I should be writing people’s answers down! I would never remember them all otherwise, though some were so cool I will probably never forget them.
So I went to rummage around and get something to write on, when I got sidetracked. I mentioned – okay, bragged - to whoever would hear me that I had gotten Rock Band for my birthday, and expressed that I was dying to play! You know how it is, when you get the most awesome present in the world for your birthday or Christmas, and you want to play so badly you can hardly finish opening everything else! A bunch of other people shared my enthusiasm, and it seemed like we could’ve gotten a band together the size of E-Street. I asked Chris if he would try and hook up the game, jumping up and down and squealing at the mention of actually playing it for the firs time. But he suggested that Marlena wasn’t too keen on the party turning into a video game extravaganza. No worry; I understood. I was supposed to be working on my sociology project anyway! And I knew that whenever we did finally play, it would be well worth the wait.
I thought about ditching the candy project, but then with a second wind, went gung ho to the point of trying to hire an assistant to dictate while I wrote down people’s answers. I ended up going it alone, but with a strong resolve to finish what I had started. I found a pen in my bag, and the red envelope that held my birthday card from Star and Keely, and went back to square one. I combed over the garage and driveway again, asking everyone to tell me their color, repeat their answer, and make sure I had their name spelled correctly. I recorded everyone’s answers, intrigued at the patterns that emerged between them, and the differences that made each answer unique.
Gina had chosen blue because her parents had “chosen blue for her”. She was one third of triplet sisters, one of whose “chosen colors” was red, and the other besides her, pink. Apparently her parents used to paint her toenails blue when she was a very little girl. Kelana was the first of three guys to tell me they chose green, because it was the color of my eyes. I was among very smooth, and very sweet, operators. Another guy said yellow because it was the color of my hair. Well, close enough I suppose. The first to choose green chose it because both he likes trees, and he’s ‘horny’. Apparently green is the color of horniness. Was I the only one who wasn’t aware of this?
The various reasons I heard for people choosing white were the following: White reminded Kapena of Hawaii’s snow-capped mountains, Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. Ben said he chose white because it is the color of Heaven. When asked if he’d been, he said “No, but I know I have a place waiting there for me when I go.” While a couple of dudes scoffed at his seriousness, I appreciated his answer tremendously. White was a third guy’s favorite color of “panties”. Keep in mind these were mostly twenty year old guys whose brains I was picking.
Some people had two or three answers, and some changed their answer half way through my conversations with them. Janelle chose green because it stood out, it was the prettiest, and it was her favorite color. Both Liana and Chris chose yellow simply because it was their favorite color. Chris said that yellow is a neutral, calming color. And I learned that, interestingly, in his perception color correlates with sound.
James picked a color I can’t remember now, and for some reason failed to write down, because “God told him to”. Adam chose blue because it is the color of the ocean. I could certainly have used that answer as my own. John chose red because it looked the most like a potential color of actual fruit. He said the rest were neon and pastel, but the red at least resembled something that could be fruity by nature. Meanwhile, James chose red, metaphorically relating it to the “umbilical cord”. I liked his philosophical, and somewhat science-fiction-esque, answer. Shane chose his color based on the fact that it just happened to be “the first one in his mouth". When I asked Marlena to eat one of my candies, she said, “Only if you eat one of mine”.
Cheriess took a blue one. She was hoping blue would be the color of her soon-to-be-born baby’s eyes. She didn’t know yet if the baby was a boy or girl. They want to be surprised, she told me. I felt such happiness for this woman I had never met until now. One of the most interesting answers I got was that Elise chose orange, because it was “The 7th candy to the left of the knot”. My self-imposed rules of the assignment dictated that everyone was asked the question, offered a candy, and given the chance to answer. However, if anyone chose to decline, which some did, that was perfectly okay too.
I didn’t have time to stop to eat others’ candies; or have discussions about the history of their love for blues or greens. I simply had to get each answer quickly and move on to the next person. I had told Chris at approximately 10:00pm that I was feeling ready to head back to Mark and Kelly’s down the street, where I was house and pet sitting. He had said, “No way can you leave your own party so early”. And then I had started playing ping-pong again and had forgotten about leaving. But by 11:30, I decided I would party until the clock struck midnight, and then make my exit within the first minute of my thirtieth year. All night long, it kept crossing my mind that my mom was thirty when she had me. I felt her with me so strongly on this night. Every time I looked in a mirror, or someone gave me a compliment about how great I look for “my age”, I saw and felt mom’s spirit in the core of me. In my mind, it was no mere coincidence that my gift was a musical one, which mom would have loved to see us play and enjoy! In the same vein, it is a game for which my nephew Aidan and I share a great fondness. My mom’s presence is written all over these connections.
I was still playing ping-pong, when I realized it was 11:46pm. I had put my pen and envelope down some time earlier, figuring I already had quite a list of answers written down, and that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I didn’t get every single person covered by the end of the night. But by 11:47, I couldn’t fight off the feeling that I really had to just bite the bullet and finish this. I apologized for backing out on the ping-pong match at a 19 to 17 (out of 21) score, but that I had to complete my mission before midnight. My opponent understood, and supported my doing what I had to do.
I made my way across the driveway, through the garage, into the living room, and…at last to the kitchen. I was stunned to realize that I had already gotten to each and every person in the room. I found Chris at the very end of the road, in the kitchen, and told him my good news. But wait! Just then, three more people walked in the door! I grabbed a quick bite of carrot cake and ran for my bag and fumbled for the pen and paper. But wait, WHERE THE HECK WAS THE NECKLACE?! I couldn’t find it! As the clock approached 11:58pm, I raced to finish my spin at this ball before some proverbial carriage turned back into a pumpkin!
I finally felt the sticky few rings of candy at the bottom of my backpack, and practically ordered the last two guys at the party to take their pick, and hurry! One of them chose orange because I was rushing him, and that’s just what happened. The other’s answer I don’t recall, because I was so crazed by the fact that the clock was now turning over to 12:00am on December 23, 2007. With seconds left to spare, I ate the second-to-last bite of yellow candy, and gave the remaining one to Chris, along with the rest of the necklace.
As I gathered my things, I thought about how I couldn’t pick just one favorite color candy of my own. On this night, I was really into the collective group of them as one, unbroken circle.
Chris, Jo Jo and Ginger walked me down the street to say goodnight. And Chris and I excitedly planned for the following day – my “real” birthday. He would work; I would spend the day on the beach at the Mauna Lani Lagoon and have lunch with Keely. He would come home and shower. I would have my birthday dinner with Dan and the Coffee Shack Crew. Then, after what would probably feel like a lifetime to a kid…we would finally get to play Rock Band!
we were immersed in cool, beautiful water all day long.
malio and chris "raced" up this "hill". it took them about 45 minutes. they weren't so much running as they were slogging. still impressive display of boyish testosterone. (If you look at the photo with a microscope, you can see them both dotting the hillside).
Before leaving for our Waipio Valley hike this morning, I asked Star if she had any “instructions” for Chris and me. As the last time we went there, she had given us the crude map - markered onto a post-it - that ended up guiding us to meet Linda, Goddess of the secret jungle Tree house. She had no particular mission for us today but to have fun; that was a given. But also, we knew we’d complete an assignment soon to be revealed. We always seem to.
A couple of blocks after the coffee shop, and approximately two miles from the trailhead, Chris engaged his new GPS system. We would be tracking our every move from that point forward, then could actually save the track lines from the day’s movement, and walk the very same path later on. We realized shortly after beginning our hike that such information would become very handy should we ever choose to do this hike again. Reason being, we realized after a mile or less of trekking, that we would have to pretty much blaze own trail.
