It's been a rather eventful weekend. Saturday evening, I attended a benefit concert featuring Oberlin students singing Broadway songs. I left at intermission, partially because I was tired and partially because a butchered rendition of The I Love You Song from Spelling Bee, a song near to my heart, left me disinclined to return.

On the way out to the show, I thought I saw what may have been alumni painting a rock. It said "Fear this!" and had "war" written in the middle. I thought that was pretty awesome if they were alumni. Then on the way back I saw that they hadn't been painting that, they'd been painting over it and it said "Many died for our freedom."

On Sunday, I got to sit on the stage in Warner Concert Hall for the entire Baccalaureate service in order to read four verses from Philippians. I felt a little silly. I read Philippians 1:3-5, and I was sad because I didn't get to read verse 6, which is something like "I am confident that the one who started a good work in you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ." I asked the Catholic chaplain why the reading didn't include verse 6, and she said "Let me see it and I bet I can figure out why." And then I realized it's because it drops the J-bomb (which, when dropped, by the way, does not explode but bursts into a puff of little flowers).

It seemed kind of silly to me that we were trying not to use the name Jesus when the service was so very clearly Christian. Rashid did read from the Qur'an to offer wisdom from a Muslim perspective on environmental issues, but that alone cannot make a service interfaith. The music was entirely jazz gospel hymns. Muslims never sing to worship God. They think it's a distraction. And have you ever been to a shabbat that picked out Christian gospel songs that didn't mention Jesus to use in their worship? It just seems like a bit of a useless pretense to avoid the name of Jesus.

Anyway, the music was great. Andy wrote some songs for it, but I honestly can't tell you how good they were because the performers and the guest vocalist could have made the Sesame Street theme sound great as jazz. In the excitement of the music, I think we totally skipped over Fred Lassen's closing prayer. He made up for it by doing a nice long invocation at commencement this morning.

After a two-hour nap following Baccalaureate, I proceeded to Steve and Mary's open house, where Heather KirkConnell told us about her work on Tent Watch. It was actually her job to sit in Wilder Bowl from midnight until 8 in the morning to make sure no one tried to steal the tent or, you know, light it on fire.

Sunday night was Illumination, which according to Steve Broadwell is the climax of the year for the town of Oberlin. They string up Japanese lanterns all over Tappan Square, and everyone comes out to mill around and listen to an orchestra and eat pie. He told me that it was the time when he gets to see all the people from high school that he really hoped he would never see again. It was pretty amazing, though I only made it through about twenty minutes before my body announced that it was time for bed. I've never seen my professors, classmates, and town friends all in the same place before. It never occurred to me that they all dwell in the same plane of existence, to be honest.

Sunday morning, I executed the plan that I'd plotted all week. At 8:00 in the morning, I tapped lightly on Stephen's door, then ran in and started jumping on his bed, shouting "STEPHEN! Wake up you silly sleepyhead! We're going to Candy Mountain. Candy Mountain, Stephen! It's a land of sweets, and joy...and joyness!"

I think he was really glad I did it. I then asked him if he enjoyed Illumination. He said he did, and he didn't see nearly as many people that he didn't want to see. He sounded disappointed.

I then went to the beginning of commencement, mostly to see everyone all dressed up, and especially the professors, in their academic regalia. I can only hope that I one day assume a profession that will allow me to wear a big, fancy, ridiculous robe. I saw one student who had a duck hat on underneath his motorboard. A professor I didn't recognize wore a pirate hat along with her academic robe. There were lots of pretty colors and fancy hats. I approved.

And then I drove back to Madison with my dad. I passed the time by reading him stories from David Sedaris' book, Me Talk Pretty One Day. I had to censor it a little. Some of the stories just aren't appropriate for parental ears.

And now I'm home. THE END.