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That’s Life will be written this week by Jinny’s daughter, Adele.
Both my sons, Jamie and Chuckie, are Star Wars fanatics. Since Jamie is 21 and Chuckie is 10, this means that I have lived with lived with roughly 20 years of Star Wars stuff. Fortunately, I liked it enough not to have been driven crazy about a decade ago.
I blame Jamie for Chuck’s obsession. After all, when your big brother is 11 years older than you are, you are bound to point yourself in any direction he is going. Hence, the Star Wars mutual love. Jamie isn’t as enthralled as he once was, having fallen victim to the hazards of growing older and up. But he has passed the torch to Chuck, who carries it with enthusiasm.
Along with Star Wars, Chuck is a Lego fanatic, which means that he has a large collection of ingenious Lego creations in the Star Wars genre. Last weekend we had to go out and buy shelving to put in his room just to hold his variety of Star Wars Lego stuff, which is forever growing larger. I have come to the conclusion that the Lego guys are among the greatest Engineering geniuses on earth. If we put them to work in the non-toy world, they would undoubtedly design everything from fabulous architectural masterpieces to space ships capable of flying to Mars. Chuck, who possesses a creative mathematical mind, is able to construct Lego creations at a rate of speed which makes me feel hopelessly stupid. While I’m still looking at the pictographs in the instructions, he already has the thing half way to completion. I don’t help anymore. It’s too embarrassing.
Along with his Lego collection, Chuck has numerous vehicles and Action Figures from the Star Wars Universe. When I go into his room, they confront me from the aforementioned shelving, usually brandishing some nasty looking weapon in my direction. And it never seems to end. There are more different style vehicles in the Star Wars world than produced by all the major car companies combined. I cannot even imagine how much money I have given to George Lucas over the past 20 years. I may have single-handedly paid the production costs on at least 3 of his movies. George is not my friend.
Chuck has kept me updated on the final installment of the Star Wars Saga, due out in theaters in May. He seems to know all about it despite the legendary Star Wars secrecy rule. The other day he was giving me the lowdown on the plot.
“I hate to tell you this, Mom, but Padme Amadala dies in the movie,” Chuck informed me.
I had no idea why he thought this might be bad news for me. It took me a moment to even remember who she was. I recalled that she was the main female character.
“Not a surprise,” I told him. “She’s the only woman with speaking lines in the movie. She has to die. Does she die in some big battle?” I asked him.
“Nope,” he said, “Childbirth.”
“Childbirth?” I asked indignantly. No glorious Jedi battles where she gets to be all heroic and brave for our lone female. She gets to die of childbirth in a galaxy far, far away.
“Yep,” answered Chuck, the incredulity of the situation obviously escaping him.
“And Anakin gets in a fight with Obi-Wan and gets his arm and legs cut off. He also gets horribly burned by lava and his lungs are destroyed. But the Emperor saves him and that’s how he gets his Darth Vader outfit”
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “This all takes place in a world where they have space ships that can travel faster than the speed of light, and medical technology where the bad guy has his arm and legs cut off, is horribly burned, and looses the use of his lungs, and yet, not only survives, but is given completely natural looking new limbs, but Padme dies in childbirth? What the Sam Hill is up with that?”
“Beats me,” Chuck answered. “All I know is that’s what happens.”
“That’s insane!” I stated hotly. “And what’s with the severed limbs? I swear, in every movie someone gets something cut off by a lightsaber. No wonder women still die in childbirth, the medical world is far to busy working on better than natural prosthesis for all those Jedi who keep getting their appendages cut off.”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I don’t know anything about childbirth,” said Chuck defensively.
“Oh, of course not. But you know so much about severed limbs.”
“It’s a guy thing,” said Chuck as if that explained everything.
“No kidding,” I said. “I’m beginning to think that the entire Star Wars Universe is a guy thing. I don’t remember seeing any girl Jedi heroes.”
“There were some women Jedi,” said Chuck indignantly.
“Really? It wasn’t immediately apparent. They didn’t have any lines. And their fashion sense left a lot to be desired”
“Well, they only have so much time in the movie,” Chuck pointed out. “And Jedi don’t care about fashion.”
“No kidding,” I said wryly. “They all dress in the same potato sacks.”
Chuck sighed and shook his head. “I knew that you’d be upset.”
I hate it when he’s right.
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