B: Has been to Florida and back, where he helped his parents move. They closed on their house. They await their new digs within a few months. We couldn't be more pleased by how smoothly it went.
Bryan met the new owner of his parent's house, a man who came by every single day to. . .to what? Check up on the house? Probably, he was just excited about it.
This man is wealthy. In addition to making refurbishing plans for the house (which shall serve as a guest house to his big house on an adjoining lot) he and his wife are also busy outfitting their new jet. The pilot they have hired to fly the jet wanted the job, but couldn't take it because his house in Las Vegas was underwater on its mortgage.
The rich man wanted this pilot, and not another, so he bought the guy's house at the underwater price.
My question: Has anyone shared the Gospel with this guy? For what will it profit him to be so wealthy--nice though he may be, philanthropic, even--to have so much of the world and yet have no redeemer of his soul?
G: Some her friends on the cul-de-sac are walking around with cell phones now. I do not know if they are operational or just toys. I don't want to know.
Gemma saw this, then sat down one evening for a fit of industry. Out of paper, she fashioned a laptop, cell phone, holder for both with additional pockets and a wallet that fit into one of them.
It was so cute. And I was so proud. My mother did the exact same thing when she was Gemma's age--minus the laptop and cell phone. Just paper and glue! This is all their little minds need.
J: He went grocery shopping with me last week, which included a swing through the PX to check for any outrageous post-valentine's sales.
We found, instead, a two-pack of light sabers marked 75% off. This made the price of these really great. I said to him, "But you already have a light saber."
He looked at me with a certain expression, the words for which will come a few years later, the thought of which seemed to be there. "You can never have too many light sabers. . ."
Then this expression changed and he got strategical about it, "Then we'll have one for Gemma."
Fair enough.
Even better, now there is enough for someone to fight him while he's holding two. You would think this would be enough for him to defend himself. But while I was going after him, and had him backed into a corner. He dropped one saber and shot his hand out at me with a great grimace and squinty eyes.
I paused.
"Force push!" he shouted at me.
Geez.
Finally, something on a completely different track, it's something serious. Something you should prepare yourself for. It might mean something to you today, or one day. . .
A new child started coming to Cubbies. I'll change her name to Kayla. She is now in a loving foster family (seeking to adopt her), having come from a horrible, horrible, unspeakable background of abuse.
Her new father told us a remarkable story:
When Kayla joined her new family, her new parents told her about Jesus. He asked, "Do you know who Jesus is?"
Kayla is 4 years old. She thought for a moment and said, "Oh. . . He must have been the one who kept it from hurting too much, but I never knew his name."
Monday, February 28, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
B, G and J Day: What We're Good At
Haven't had one of these in a while.
B: This Sunday was especially busy. We hosted a pizza-party potluck at the church immediately following the Cubbies meeting. The event was fun, and as Bryan and I are trying to create more opportunities to get to know our volunteers, the party served its purpose.
[It has been pretty neat to see how Bryan and I work as a team in these circumstances. Bryan does nearly all of the set-up, nearly all of the take-down, and nearly all of the details administration.
I do all of the talking. And some trouble-shooting during the actual club meeting. And all of the e-mail writing to parents and leaders. But mostly: the talking. The joking around. The chit-chatting. The finding-out-how-you're-doing. . .
I'm really good at my job.
And because I'm an extrovert whose batteries charge up with human interaction, I really like my job.]
It was 7:30 by the time we got home from the pizza party. We got the kids in bed by 8:00. We were positively wiped out--Bryan from all the work and I, from. . .well, I'm not sure why I should have been tired.
We watched a movie together. (Knight and Day, which was a very fun movie with a great plot--not at all sure why it tanked at the box office.)
By 10:30, we were both in bed and talking about the day. About the party. How things went. About the ministry. About what we might do differently.
At 11:15 there was a pause in our conversation, and Bryan let an enormous lion-yawn out and asked, "So, are you ready to pray now?"
I said, "Oh! Are you ready to go to sleep?"
He blinked up his heavy lids and nodded.
"Were you ready to go to sleep 45 minutes ago?"
He kind of nodded again.
"Then why have we been talking all this time?"
He half-smiled and said, "It's after a party. I knew I would need to talk you down."
What a helpful guy.
G:
Speaking of AWANA, every year, we do an adopt-a-club fund-raiser. The children in AWANA (from pre-K through high school) earn money to give to children in Zimbabwe so they can have an AWANA club, too.
Every year, the Cubbies bring in the most money. This is not because they earn the most. It's because their parents put all their loose change into a jar for the better part of the year and change adds up.
By the time children are in Sparks (e.g. K-2nd grade), parents figure the children should be earning the money for their collection jars. Historically, they've never earned more than the Cubbies' parents drop wantonly.
(The other levels are technically in the competition to bring in the most. But their enrollment numbers are nowhere near as big as the younger levels.)
So.
Gemma really wants the Sparks to win this year. She currently has $42.25 in her jar. I do not know how she's gotten that much. Something about that girl's efforts to earn money just. . .multiplies. It's weird.
Every day, she asks me for a job to do to "earn money for adopt-a-club," and I think of something. And pay her a quarter here, a quarter there.
The other day she got the bright idea to hunt up loose change all over the house. She checked couch cushions, nooks, crannies. She got down on her belly and made a sweep under the washing machine, where she found a dime.
And she found a "strange black thing." She showed it to me.
Hooray! It was the remote control to my camera! I thought I had lost it on the mountain where I broke my ankle over two years ago. This was the last place I'd used it, and having not seen it since, I figured it fell out of my pocket as I lay, howling, and that it was long gone.
I high-fived Gemma and thanked her. This was truly a great find. Did I pay her any reward money? Well. No. She had already found a dime.
J:
Still enamored with Star Wars.
I've decided to start making hay out of it. For instance, I challenged them both with the question, "Darth Vader is very powerful and everyone fears him. But whose slave is he?"
They were both stumped.
Until I reminded them that he calls the Emporer "Master," and he does the Emporer's bidding. He was a slave to him.
This rocked their world a little.
And then came the hay: "People think that they want to be free of what God says is right and good and they think they can live how they want to and by what they think is right and good. But, really, every person has a master, and if the master isn't God, then their master is sin, and they are a slave to it."
We'll find out later whether they get that.
On a different day, Star Wars again came up in our conversation. Joshua had a question about midi-chlorians, of which Annikan Skywalker had an astoundingly high concentration in his blood stream. Midi-chlorians, those under 60 plus Helen may know, are the biological presence of the Force.
When I saw this in Episode I for the first time, I found it very satisfying. Finally: the Force explained. It did not correspond to a Biblical view of spiritual reality, but why should that bother me? Star Wars was never meant to be a Christian allegory.
I pointed out to the kids, "The interesting thing about Star Wars is that a lot of the parts of it are just like what we know is true from the Bible. But some things are different. For instance, in Star Wars, everyone is born as a good person and people on the Dark Side are those who have chosen to go to the Dark Side. But what does the Bible say about all people?"
Answer: All have sinned. All. Have sinned.
"And that's why everyone needs a Savior." Long pause. "Can you think of anything else that's different?"
Long pause.
Josh was ready with one: "In the Bible, no one has 4 arms like General Grievous."
B: This Sunday was especially busy. We hosted a pizza-party potluck at the church immediately following the Cubbies meeting. The event was fun, and as Bryan and I are trying to create more opportunities to get to know our volunteers, the party served its purpose.
[It has been pretty neat to see how Bryan and I work as a team in these circumstances. Bryan does nearly all of the set-up, nearly all of the take-down, and nearly all of the details administration.
I do all of the talking. And some trouble-shooting during the actual club meeting. And all of the e-mail writing to parents and leaders. But mostly: the talking. The joking around. The chit-chatting. The finding-out-how-you're-doing. . .
I'm really good at my job.
And because I'm an extrovert whose batteries charge up with human interaction, I really like my job.]
It was 7:30 by the time we got home from the pizza party. We got the kids in bed by 8:00. We were positively wiped out--Bryan from all the work and I, from. . .well, I'm not sure why I should have been tired.
We watched a movie together. (Knight and Day, which was a very fun movie with a great plot--not at all sure why it tanked at the box office.)
By 10:30, we were both in bed and talking about the day. About the party. How things went. About the ministry. About what we might do differently.
At 11:15 there was a pause in our conversation, and Bryan let an enormous lion-yawn out and asked, "So, are you ready to pray now?"
I said, "Oh! Are you ready to go to sleep?"
He blinked up his heavy lids and nodded.
"Were you ready to go to sleep 45 minutes ago?"
He kind of nodded again.
"Then why have we been talking all this time?"
He half-smiled and said, "It's after a party. I knew I would need to talk you down."
What a helpful guy.
G:
Speaking of AWANA, every year, we do an adopt-a-club fund-raiser. The children in AWANA (from pre-K through high school) earn money to give to children in Zimbabwe so they can have an AWANA club, too.
Every year, the Cubbies bring in the most money. This is not because they earn the most. It's because their parents put all their loose change into a jar for the better part of the year and change adds up.
By the time children are in Sparks (e.g. K-2nd grade), parents figure the children should be earning the money for their collection jars. Historically, they've never earned more than the Cubbies' parents drop wantonly.
(The other levels are technically in the competition to bring in the most. But their enrollment numbers are nowhere near as big as the younger levels.)
So.
Gemma really wants the Sparks to win this year. She currently has $42.25 in her jar. I do not know how she's gotten that much. Something about that girl's efforts to earn money just. . .multiplies. It's weird.
Every day, she asks me for a job to do to "earn money for adopt-a-club," and I think of something. And pay her a quarter here, a quarter there.
The other day she got the bright idea to hunt up loose change all over the house. She checked couch cushions, nooks, crannies. She got down on her belly and made a sweep under the washing machine, where she found a dime.
And she found a "strange black thing." She showed it to me.
Hooray! It was the remote control to my camera! I thought I had lost it on the mountain where I broke my ankle over two years ago. This was the last place I'd used it, and having not seen it since, I figured it fell out of my pocket as I lay, howling, and that it was long gone.
I high-fived Gemma and thanked her. This was truly a great find. Did I pay her any reward money? Well. No. She had already found a dime.
J:
Still enamored with Star Wars.
I've decided to start making hay out of it. For instance, I challenged them both with the question, "Darth Vader is very powerful and everyone fears him. But whose slave is he?"
They were both stumped.
Until I reminded them that he calls the Emporer "Master," and he does the Emporer's bidding. He was a slave to him.
This rocked their world a little.
And then came the hay: "People think that they want to be free of what God says is right and good and they think they can live how they want to and by what they think is right and good. But, really, every person has a master, and if the master isn't God, then their master is sin, and they are a slave to it."
We'll find out later whether they get that.
On a different day, Star Wars again came up in our conversation. Joshua had a question about midi-chlorians, of which Annikan Skywalker had an astoundingly high concentration in his blood stream. Midi-chlorians, those under 60 plus Helen may know, are the biological presence of the Force.
When I saw this in Episode I for the first time, I found it very satisfying. Finally: the Force explained. It did not correspond to a Biblical view of spiritual reality, but why should that bother me? Star Wars was never meant to be a Christian allegory.
I pointed out to the kids, "The interesting thing about Star Wars is that a lot of the parts of it are just like what we know is true from the Bible. But some things are different. For instance, in Star Wars, everyone is born as a good person and people on the Dark Side are those who have chosen to go to the Dark Side. But what does the Bible say about all people?"
Answer: All have sinned. All. Have sinned.
"And that's why everyone needs a Savior." Long pause. "Can you think of anything else that's different?"
Long pause.
Josh was ready with one: "In the Bible, no one has 4 arms like General Grievous."
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Force Photos
I am no further beyond the realm of Star Wars this week than I was last week.
To whit:
1. A reader of this blog used precious moments of her life to track down General Grievous and update the rest of us as to his unique genesis.
2. Even before this back story (thank you Helen, I am so much better off now that I know), a certain mini-DVD made its way into our home and on it was a 10 minute collection of light saber battles from all the Star Wars movies, including the animated Clone War features (which we have never seen).
(And I'm not sure I want to. . . One of the battles featured all female characters, the good and the bad and they all looked very mean and kind of grotesque and I was thinking, "A chick fight? In Star Wars?"
Then again, perhaps this is the answer to a certain woman I am related to who expressed her irritation with the franchise and disinterest in it because, in her words, "There were no good women in those movies."
"There was Princess Leia," I objected.
"But what did she ever do?"
"Well how about Queen Amadalla, the elected sovereign of Nabu?" (And, hey Star Wars, how can a sovereign be 'elected'?)
But this relative was not going for it.)
Well.
On this mini-DVD of light saber battles was the moment where Obi Wan takes on General Grievous and, Josh was right, General Grievous does have 4 arms. The battle ensues and Obi lances off one arm. Joshua says, "Now he has three."
Obe takes off another. Josh says, "Now he has two."
But before any more arms get cauterized off, the mini-DVD cuts off the scene with a "To Be Continued" heading. Josh says, "But General Grievous does die."
Really, Josh? How is that possible when General Grievous is just a cyborg? Was he ever really living?
And why does he wield a light saber (or 4), I thought those were the weapons of Jedi Knights.
Bryan clarified, "He was trained by Count Duku." Oh.. . I guess I should have read Helen's research earlier.
(Gemma, this entire time, is kind of watching, but mostly she is making Valentines with pink paper and fancy-edged scissors.)
Where did this mini-DVD come from, anyway? It was packaged with Joshua's light saber, which Daddy bought him a few weeks ago when they were out together.
3. We did not watch the Superbowl last Sunday, but I did watch some of the commercials online the next day. By far, this was the best of those I saw. The kids heard it and came running.
Gemma laughed hardest at the doll part.
Joshua laughed hardest at the car part.
Bryan laughed hardest at the husband's eyebrows part.
I laughed throughout the whole thing.
It's not that I want to counter-act the Star Wars with "something other," but I do have some photos I've been meaning to share.
The morning of our first snow, which was back in late November or so.
I took the kids to the "CandyLand" celebration that the MWR on Schreiver Air Force Bases hosts each year. Joshua chose to get a 'knight' for his face paint.
Gemma picked little bunches of holly at the corner of her eyes, but it had gotten smudged by the time we arrived home.
Here is a photo of me and Bryan on Friday night, on our way to the Second Annual JFCC-IMD awards dinner. Col. Putko is retiring in April (his wife, the other Col Putko, is as well), and he has been the driving force behind this event. So who knows if it will continue in his absence.
But I looked forward to it, and enjoyed it through and through. The people Bryan works with are nice and the food was, again, very good this year.
Also new to this year was the Air Force Academy band, playing live. Huh. It included 5 members, all enlisted personnel.
What is their deal, exactly? I wonder if they are part of the larger AFA Band, whose members are professional musicians for larger, full-concert performances. And then maybe a few of them moonlight with these other instruments and form up little bands that do these little gigs?
It's mysterious.
After dinner, they played a few pop songs, the first of which was Journey's Don't Stop Believin'.
The Major sitting next to me remarked upon the teenage boy at our table (e.g. the son of one of the guys Bryan works with--see? a family-friendly command!) by saying, "He probably has no idea what this song is."
And I said, "Oh, I'm sure he knows it from Glee."
Both remarks this young man both heard and objected to. "I grew up on the classics!" he insisted. And I remembered feeling like him once: that it was an assault on one's aesthetic pride to be accused of knowing only contemporary music, or knowing it at all.
He'll do OK, that one. . .
This was the dinner last year, long time readers may recall, when I met Esther, the woman who had participated in the Herceptin trials. She was not there this year.
Lisa, another b.c. champion was, though. This time last year, she was suffering through her 9 months of "tissue expansion." Her most notable comment was that she felt like she was "wearing hubcaps."
She's all restored now! And she looks lovely. A very sweet gal and it was a pleasure to see her.
Last year, I remember looking at myself, all dressed up, and feeling like I really looked nice, what with that great wig and all. Many of you saw the photos and said I looked great, too. I believed you.
Then I looked at the photo about 6 months later and thought, "Yeesh! I looked sick. And that wig looked like a wig!"
This year, I did not feel sick and I did not look sick!
My hair actually looked very nice in person, but in photos, it's so dark, it just looks like a helmet. You'll have to believe me: the short hair really works.
And after some deliberation, I decided not to wear any prosthetics, or socks, or other device to fill out the top of my dress.
It wasn't noticeable. Or maybe it was. But if it was, then I guess the thought of someone noticing would have been, "That woman has no breasts."
True statement.
But I'm pretty sure no one looked twice.
Finally, what was nicest about this evening for me is that most of the co-workers who knew about the cancer have moved on to new jobs, and most of the people I met that night were new. Presumably, no one even knew I was a breast cancer champion, and it was so nice to be, simply, Amy Ponce!, Superhero.
To whit:
1. A reader of this blog used precious moments of her life to track down General Grievous and update the rest of us as to his unique genesis.
2. Even before this back story (thank you Helen, I am so much better off now that I know), a certain mini-DVD made its way into our home and on it was a 10 minute collection of light saber battles from all the Star Wars movies, including the animated Clone War features (which we have never seen).
(And I'm not sure I want to. . . One of the battles featured all female characters, the good and the bad and they all looked very mean and kind of grotesque and I was thinking, "A chick fight? In Star Wars?"
Then again, perhaps this is the answer to a certain woman I am related to who expressed her irritation with the franchise and disinterest in it because, in her words, "There were no good women in those movies."
"There was Princess Leia," I objected.
"But what did she ever do?"
"Well how about Queen Amadalla, the elected sovereign of Nabu?" (And, hey Star Wars, how can a sovereign be 'elected'?)
But this relative was not going for it.)
Well.
On this mini-DVD of light saber battles was the moment where Obi Wan takes on General Grievous and, Josh was right, General Grievous does have 4 arms. The battle ensues and Obi lances off one arm. Joshua says, "Now he has three."
Obe takes off another. Josh says, "Now he has two."
But before any more arms get cauterized off, the mini-DVD cuts off the scene with a "To Be Continued" heading. Josh says, "But General Grievous does die."
Really, Josh? How is that possible when General Grievous is just a cyborg? Was he ever really living?
And why does he wield a light saber (or 4), I thought those were the weapons of Jedi Knights.
Bryan clarified, "He was trained by Count Duku." Oh.. . I guess I should have read Helen's research earlier.
(Gemma, this entire time, is kind of watching, but mostly she is making Valentines with pink paper and fancy-edged scissors.)
Where did this mini-DVD come from, anyway? It was packaged with Joshua's light saber, which Daddy bought him a few weeks ago when they were out together.
3. We did not watch the Superbowl last Sunday, but I did watch some of the commercials online the next day. By far, this was the best of those I saw. The kids heard it and came running.
Gemma laughed hardest at the doll part.
Joshua laughed hardest at the car part.
Bryan laughed hardest at the husband's eyebrows part.
I laughed throughout the whole thing.
It's not that I want to counter-act the Star Wars with "something other," but I do have some photos I've been meaning to share.
The morning of our first snow, which was back in late November or so.
I took the kids to the "CandyLand" celebration that the MWR on Schreiver Air Force Bases hosts each year. Joshua chose to get a 'knight' for his face paint.
Gemma picked little bunches of holly at the corner of her eyes, but it had gotten smudged by the time we arrived home.
Speaking of Christmas-time. . . Here are Gemma and Joshua opening gifts that Aunt Helen and Uncle David sent down to them. Upon seeing his Iron Man helmet, Joshua immediately felt fierce. Upon seeing her master works set of Crayola art supplies, Gemma literally licked her lips.
Here is a photo of me and Bryan on Friday night, on our way to the Second Annual JFCC-IMD awards dinner. Col. Putko is retiring in April (his wife, the other Col Putko, is as well), and he has been the driving force behind this event. So who knows if it will continue in his absence.
But I looked forward to it, and enjoyed it through and through. The people Bryan works with are nice and the food was, again, very good this year.
Also new to this year was the Air Force Academy band, playing live. Huh. It included 5 members, all enlisted personnel.
What is their deal, exactly? I wonder if they are part of the larger AFA Band, whose members are professional musicians for larger, full-concert performances. And then maybe a few of them moonlight with these other instruments and form up little bands that do these little gigs?
It's mysterious.
After dinner, they played a few pop songs, the first of which was Journey's Don't Stop Believin'.
The Major sitting next to me remarked upon the teenage boy at our table (e.g. the son of one of the guys Bryan works with--see? a family-friendly command!) by saying, "He probably has no idea what this song is."
And I said, "Oh, I'm sure he knows it from Glee."
Both remarks this young man both heard and objected to. "I grew up on the classics!" he insisted. And I remembered feeling like him once: that it was an assault on one's aesthetic pride to be accused of knowing only contemporary music, or knowing it at all.
He'll do OK, that one. . .
This was the dinner last year, long time readers may recall, when I met Esther, the woman who had participated in the Herceptin trials. She was not there this year.
Lisa, another b.c. champion was, though. This time last year, she was suffering through her 9 months of "tissue expansion." Her most notable comment was that she felt like she was "wearing hubcaps."
She's all restored now! And she looks lovely. A very sweet gal and it was a pleasure to see her.
Last year, I remember looking at myself, all dressed up, and feeling like I really looked nice, what with that great wig and all. Many of you saw the photos and said I looked great, too. I believed you.
Then I looked at the photo about 6 months later and thought, "Yeesh! I looked sick. And that wig looked like a wig!"
This year, I did not feel sick and I did not look sick!
My hair actually looked very nice in person, but in photos, it's so dark, it just looks like a helmet. You'll have to believe me: the short hair really works.
And after some deliberation, I decided not to wear any prosthetics, or socks, or other device to fill out the top of my dress.
It wasn't noticeable. Or maybe it was. But if it was, then I guess the thought of someone noticing would have been, "That woman has no breasts."
True statement.
But I'm pretty sure no one looked twice.
Finally, what was nicest about this evening for me is that most of the co-workers who knew about the cancer have moved on to new jobs, and most of the people I met that night were new. Presumably, no one even knew I was a breast cancer champion, and it was so nice to be, simply, Amy Ponce!, Superhero.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
The Dull Fight
The new kid on our cul-de-sac is named Evan. He moved in this summer and is a few months older than Gemma. There is a boy a bit older than he who lives here, too, but this boy is never at home and when he is, he can never play. It's kind of mysterious, actually.
So Evan is left to play with Gemma, Kate, Ayla and Bella (4 girls of the same age) and Joshua, Joshua (yes, there are two) and Riley (3 boys of the same age).
Evan is a sweet child. He has very good manners. I credit him deeply for playing so well with all the girls and so gently with these younger boys. However, nothing about this gender distribution has inhibited him from playing what is most interesting to him. This, of course, is Star Wars.
I don't remember doing this as a child--e.g. making a game out of a movie. But the cul-de-sac kids do. Among them is a broad assortment of light sabers and plastic guns and they kids run around most of the afternoon attacking each other.
I do not know if they have more rules than the overall point, which is "Fight!" Are there teams? If someone "gets" you, do you have to sit out or go tag something or do you keep fighting, immortal?
Gemma is somewhat interested in this gaming. Often, she and Kate will lose interest and do their own thing, probably with Ayla and Bella, too. But Joshua. Whew! He is taken by the entire enterprise. (Am I allowed to use the word "enterprise" when speaking of Star Wars and not Star Trek?)
Evan is obviously building into this play little tutorials about the world of Star Wars. I know this because every now and again, Joshua announces a factoid to me such as, "General Grievous has 4 arms and 4 light savers!"
"General who?"
"General Grievous!"
"Who is General Grievance?"
"No, Mommy. General."
"What?"
"Say, 'General.'"
"General."
"Now say, 'Greivous.'"
"Grievance."
"No! Greeev. . . .US"
"Oh. 'Greivous.'"
"Now say it together."
"General Grievous."
"Yes. And General Grievous has 4 arms and 4 light savers!"
(I sigh. I sigh because there was--there must have been!--something interesting and valuable I was thinking about and had to stop thinking about so that I could hear Joshua tell me something about what Evan has been telling him. . .)
"How did he get 4 arms?" he asked me.
"I don't know."
"He's the all white guy but Evan said he used to be human but he how did he get from being human to having 4 arms?"
Josh asked me because he is 4 and so completely convinced that his parents are all-knowing. Would this be the moment he had to learn that I don't, in fact, know all?
"I don't know, Josh. It's been a long time since I've seen that movie and I just don't remember General Grievous."
Long pause. Was my fallibility dawning on him? No. Because he then asked, "But how did he get 4 arms?"
Argh! Would you believe he has been talking for 2 weeks about this General, asking me the same questions for which I still do not have answers?
The biggest reason he thinks I do know and am just holding out on him is that he saw bits and pieces of all 6 Star Wars movies when we were in Florida this past Christmas. The General must be a character from one of the first 3 episodes, which are not to be confused with Episodes IV, V and VI, which were the first 3 movies made and released starting in, what? the late 70's?
[Side note: Joshua quickly understood how it is that first 3 movies we watched, e.g. Episodes IV, V and VI, are not the first 3 sections of the over-all story. So here he is, capable of understanding a complicated situation like the oddly ordered Star Wars movies, but unable to understand that I don't know who this General is!]
[Another side note: Because of Evan, my children refer to Star Wars, Episode IV, the first movie that started it all, as "New Hope." That's its actual name, which I never knew until Evan came around. It sounds wrong, though, every time I hear it. Star Wars is just Star Wars, OK?]
[Another Side note: When these movies were playing marathon-like on some cable channel down in Florida, and as we were watching bits and pieces, my dear mother-in-law kept me asking questions. Right in the middle of the movie. Why wasn't she asking Bryan? Not sure. . .
"Why are they dressed in robes?"
"Because they're Jedi Knights. It's like a uniform."
"Well are those good guys?"
"Yes, they are Jedi."
"Well what are 'Jedi'?"
"The peace-keepers of the entire universe!"
"Oh. . .(30 second pause). . .Is that hairy guy a monster?"
"No, he's Chewbakka. He's a Wookie."
"Well why is he with that guy? Is he a pet or something?"
"No, he's like Han Solo's best friend. They are renegade partners."
"How does that guy understand him, though?"
"Because he speaks Wookie!"
Finally, after, like, a lot of this, she asked, "Do you know all this because you're a big fan of this Star Wars?" and I answered, after brief thought, "I think I know it because I'm an American under the age of 60."]
[Another side note: There was a headline in an English-language Korean newspaper shortly after we moved back to the States. The article was about the yearly tight-rope walkers competition in Seoul, which, that year, crossed the River Han in the heart of downtown. (I'm not sure if the competition always locates there.) The headline read, Skywalker Crosses Han Solo. So, really, it's not even just an American thing, is it?]
Back to, eh, let's see here. . . Ah, General Grievous.
Joshua is desperate to know about this character. And we have been spending our family movie nights making our way through the episodes. Return of the Jedi was the Friday before last. Josh asks often when the next movie night will be, for then we shall watch Episode I, Phantom Menace.
(Which happens to be the first movie Bryan and I watched together in a theater. And that happened a few weeks after our wedding! What a risk! Imagine if he had been the type of movie-watcher who wants to talk and comment throughout the whole thing! But he's not. A narrow miss indeed. . . .)
When we were flying home from Florida, Joshua got tired at one point and lay on his seat, head on my lap. He held his two hands in front of his face, pointer fingers extended, and started slashing them against each other, making light saber noises with his mouth. Bryan tells me that he was like this as a child--fascinated by martial action.
As far as the cul-de-sac goes, and in the movies, and in his imagination, it is all very, very exciting.
This boy doesn't know a different category of conflict awaits him in adulthood. After the excitement of a bout with cancer, for instance, comes the bout with an old vehicle that keeps breaking down--not everything at once--just piece by piece so that you pay to repair it only to have another piece break a month later and is it good money after bad or is it sensible to nurse it along until such a time when you can responsibly buy a replacement? There is no glory whatsoever in a conflict like this.
Or even the bonafide wars of the world. Joshua has been asking lately, "Is there a war in our world right now?" and I tell him that, yes, there is, since soon after the Garden of Eden, there has always been a war going on somewhere on this planet and that right now, there are 2 wars going on that Americans are fighting in, Bella's Daddy is fighting in it right now.
He is stunned by this. Every time he asks. How could there be a war somewhere? He looks around. Doesn't seem like there's a war happening. Where are the red lazer flashes, and exploded Death Stars and get-a-way pods and star ships that travel at the speed of light?
Not here, Josh. Enjoy Episode I. Later episodes are not nearly as interesting.
So Evan is left to play with Gemma, Kate, Ayla and Bella (4 girls of the same age) and Joshua, Joshua (yes, there are two) and Riley (3 boys of the same age).
Evan is a sweet child. He has very good manners. I credit him deeply for playing so well with all the girls and so gently with these younger boys. However, nothing about this gender distribution has inhibited him from playing what is most interesting to him. This, of course, is Star Wars.
I don't remember doing this as a child--e.g. making a game out of a movie. But the cul-de-sac kids do. Among them is a broad assortment of light sabers and plastic guns and they kids run around most of the afternoon attacking each other.
I do not know if they have more rules than the overall point, which is "Fight!" Are there teams? If someone "gets" you, do you have to sit out or go tag something or do you keep fighting, immortal?
Gemma is somewhat interested in this gaming. Often, she and Kate will lose interest and do their own thing, probably with Ayla and Bella, too. But Joshua. Whew! He is taken by the entire enterprise. (Am I allowed to use the word "enterprise" when speaking of Star Wars and not Star Trek?)
Evan is obviously building into this play little tutorials about the world of Star Wars. I know this because every now and again, Joshua announces a factoid to me such as, "General Grievous has 4 arms and 4 light savers!"
"General who?"
"General Grievous!"
"Who is General Grievance?"
"No, Mommy. General."
"What?"
"Say, 'General.'"
"General."
"Now say, 'Greivous.'"
"Grievance."
"No! Greeev. . . .US"
"Oh. 'Greivous.'"
"Now say it together."
"General Grievous."
"Yes. And General Grievous has 4 arms and 4 light savers!"
(I sigh. I sigh because there was--there must have been!--something interesting and valuable I was thinking about and had to stop thinking about so that I could hear Joshua tell me something about what Evan has been telling him. . .)
"How did he get 4 arms?" he asked me.
"I don't know."
"He's the all white guy but Evan said he used to be human but he how did he get from being human to having 4 arms?"
Josh asked me because he is 4 and so completely convinced that his parents are all-knowing. Would this be the moment he had to learn that I don't, in fact, know all?
"I don't know, Josh. It's been a long time since I've seen that movie and I just don't remember General Grievous."
Long pause. Was my fallibility dawning on him? No. Because he then asked, "But how did he get 4 arms?"
Argh! Would you believe he has been talking for 2 weeks about this General, asking me the same questions for which I still do not have answers?
The biggest reason he thinks I do know and am just holding out on him is that he saw bits and pieces of all 6 Star Wars movies when we were in Florida this past Christmas. The General must be a character from one of the first 3 episodes, which are not to be confused with Episodes IV, V and VI, which were the first 3 movies made and released starting in, what? the late 70's?
[Side note: Joshua quickly understood how it is that first 3 movies we watched, e.g. Episodes IV, V and VI, are not the first 3 sections of the over-all story. So here he is, capable of understanding a complicated situation like the oddly ordered Star Wars movies, but unable to understand that I don't know who this General is!]
[Another side note: Because of Evan, my children refer to Star Wars, Episode IV, the first movie that started it all, as "New Hope." That's its actual name, which I never knew until Evan came around. It sounds wrong, though, every time I hear it. Star Wars is just Star Wars, OK?]
[Another Side note: When these movies were playing marathon-like on some cable channel down in Florida, and as we were watching bits and pieces, my dear mother-in-law kept me asking questions. Right in the middle of the movie. Why wasn't she asking Bryan? Not sure. . .
"Why are they dressed in robes?"
"Because they're Jedi Knights. It's like a uniform."
"Well are those good guys?"
"Yes, they are Jedi."
"Well what are 'Jedi'?"
"The peace-keepers of the entire universe!"
"Oh. . .(30 second pause). . .Is that hairy guy a monster?"
"No, he's Chewbakka. He's a Wookie."
"Well why is he with that guy? Is he a pet or something?"
"No, he's like Han Solo's best friend. They are renegade partners."
"How does that guy understand him, though?"
"Because he speaks Wookie!"
Finally, after, like, a lot of this, she asked, "Do you know all this because you're a big fan of this Star Wars?" and I answered, after brief thought, "I think I know it because I'm an American under the age of 60."]
[Another side note: There was a headline in an English-language Korean newspaper shortly after we moved back to the States. The article was about the yearly tight-rope walkers competition in Seoul, which, that year, crossed the River Han in the heart of downtown. (I'm not sure if the competition always locates there.) The headline read, Skywalker Crosses Han Solo. So, really, it's not even just an American thing, is it?]
Back to, eh, let's see here. . . Ah, General Grievous.
Joshua is desperate to know about this character. And we have been spending our family movie nights making our way through the episodes. Return of the Jedi was the Friday before last. Josh asks often when the next movie night will be, for then we shall watch Episode I, Phantom Menace.
(Which happens to be the first movie Bryan and I watched together in a theater. And that happened a few weeks after our wedding! What a risk! Imagine if he had been the type of movie-watcher who wants to talk and comment throughout the whole thing! But he's not. A narrow miss indeed. . . .)
When we were flying home from Florida, Joshua got tired at one point and lay on his seat, head on my lap. He held his two hands in front of his face, pointer fingers extended, and started slashing them against each other, making light saber noises with his mouth. Bryan tells me that he was like this as a child--fascinated by martial action.
As far as the cul-de-sac goes, and in the movies, and in his imagination, it is all very, very exciting.
This boy doesn't know a different category of conflict awaits him in adulthood. After the excitement of a bout with cancer, for instance, comes the bout with an old vehicle that keeps breaking down--not everything at once--just piece by piece so that you pay to repair it only to have another piece break a month later and is it good money after bad or is it sensible to nurse it along until such a time when you can responsibly buy a replacement? There is no glory whatsoever in a conflict like this.
Or even the bonafide wars of the world. Joshua has been asking lately, "Is there a war in our world right now?" and I tell him that, yes, there is, since soon after the Garden of Eden, there has always been a war going on somewhere on this planet and that right now, there are 2 wars going on that Americans are fighting in, Bella's Daddy is fighting in it right now.
He is stunned by this. Every time he asks. How could there be a war somewhere? He looks around. Doesn't seem like there's a war happening. Where are the red lazer flashes, and exploded Death Stars and get-a-way pods and star ships that travel at the speed of light?
Not here, Josh. Enjoy Episode I. Later episodes are not nearly as interesting.
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