Thursday, April 03, 2003

Barenaked Birthday

People relate to birthdays in different ways.

For some, it’s a celebration, a moment of anxious anticipation, with presents and parties and triumphant transition into what is perceived as being an even better age than the one just passed. For others, it’s a time of avoidance and dread. Of forever being 29.Or 39.

But what happens to someone’s birthday after they die? Jewish tradition - and general human nature - both place great importance on commemorating the day of one’s passing. All the more so when it is dramatic and tragic, as it was in the case of Marla Bennett’s death.

And so, on July 31, 2003, a year after the attack at Hebrew University in which Marla was killed while eating lunch with friends, there will be memorials and poems and speeches. There will be trips to the cemetary and articles written in the San Diego newspapers.

But Marla’s birthday will be remembered by only a few family members and close friends. Even if not immediately, this is what will happen in time.

Why I am I raising this point now, so many months in advance of her yahrtzeit, the one year anniversary of her death? Because Marla would have turned 25 yesterday. And she adored birthdays. Her own. And others.

On her meticulously annotated calendars, she marked the birthdays of all her friends and family so as to never miss an important date. No one escaped a card or call or email from Marla on his or her birthday.

Adam Arenson was a close friend of Marla’s. They went to pre-school and high school together. They dated. One of Adam’s most cherished memories of Marla has to do with birthdays.

“I had this terrible migraine,” Adam explained. It was prior to a big youth group convention he was participating in. And then one day, “Marla appeared with a tape: the first two albums from the Barenaked Ladies." For those of you who are not familiar, the Barenaked Ladies are three clothed Canadian guys who sing quirky pop-rock.

“Marla popped the tape in," Adam continued, "found a lyric she loved, and sent me home with stern instructions: ‘listen in the car, listen doing homework, listen going to sleep.’ Well, it worked. The migraine was banished…and I was hooked on the Barenaked Ladies.”

Shortly thereafter, Adam received a note from Marla concerning his “Birthday Surprise Supply List.” On it was “a sleeping bag, toothbrush, swimsuit, towel, magazine, and a can of Mr. Pibb."

The day of Adam's birthday arrived and Marla came to pick him up. They headed out onto the road. Where to, Adam knew not.

“After a stop at the local deli for sandwiches, Marla pulled out a walkie-talkie and radioed some code, and then another car with some of her friends sped into view. With a nod, both cars drove north and hit traffic.”

At that point, Marla’s friends in the other car radioed back that they needed to “secure the car. And so, in completely stopped freeway traffic, they jumped out, searched the floor of our car, and took a few pictures faux-running alongside us Secret Service style. I was then instructed to put the swimsuit over my head and the towel over my ears." Apparently they weren't going to the beach. It's still not clear what the Mr. Pibb was intended for.

“We entered a parking structure. And I had no idea where we were until we stood under a theater sign announcing a Barenaked Ladies concert. I don’t remember the name of the place, but I’m sure the ticket stub is still on Marla’s high school collaged corkboard. Needless to say it was a great concert and the best birthday present I ever received.”

I am repeating this story today because it so beautifully capture's Marla's essence. Bubbling, full of life, always giving to others. Especially when it came to birthdays.

People who loved Marla often ask when confronted with various situations “what would Marla have wanted?” or “what would Marla have done?” We can never know for sure, but I am pretty certain that she would have wanted us to continue celebrating her birthday and not just focus on the day of her death.

Marla only had 24 birthdays to enjoy. One of the greatest tragedies in losing Marla is that we will never know what fun adventures she had in store for her next 50 birthdays. And for those of her family and friends.

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