Darth Disney

My brother recently took a trip to Thailand. It was a glamorous trip, something like I would have very much wanted to do in an earlier life, myself--before kids.   Sunset beaches, great scenic wonders, age-old architecture and artifacts...It was by all counts a great trip, and I know he enjoyed it.

This winter,  we took one of those once-in-a-lifetime vacations like my dad used to take us on when we were growing up.  I will be writing about aspects of that vacation for a long, long time. For this post, I am going to address just one tiny facet of the Disneyland experience. Since I am a Star Wars fan, I was one who went into mourning when Disney bought the rights from Lucas. I did not see how any good could come of that. As we wandered around Disneyland, I noted that Disney has the rights to just about everything, and that list is growing. (I'll write on that again sometime when I feel more political.)

When we did find the Star Wars presence at the park, the force was not strong with us. It was the third day in Disneyland, and it was raining. It rained so much, they canceled the Jedi Training Academy! Like Clark Griswold, I found such a closing intolerable, and I hunted down the nearest Jedi robe-wearing teenaged Disneyland employee to give her a piece of my mind. "Rain? Rain trumps Jedi?" I said. "Well, when it lets up, will there be another show?" To which, the Disney Jedi curled her lip and reprimanded me: "We don't do shows, sir. This is a training academy...but stick around, because some of us are already in costume so we're going to do pictures."

We now have a good number of pictures of our kids with punk kid Jedi Knights, Storm Troopers and Darth Vader. Those are all keepsakes that made that day less drab. However the best picture of the whole day, perhaps the whole vacation, was the one below, however, for it documents my lovely daughter in her truest form, hissing and snarling at Darth Maul.

If one is unfamiliar, hissing and snarling are Ellison's way of repelling strangers. She does this subtly sometimes with just a hiss under her breath or a growl only the animal kingdom can hear. With Darth Vader and others, she gave her best Navi hiss, but when she encountered Darth Maul, it was a hiss/snarl-fest. (She was NOT at all afraid, which is what some people interpret from the picture. Maybe he was.)

I can't wait to blow this up to poster size for her 18th birthday party!

O' Cap'n, my Captain

This picture is one of my favorites for it captures three big influences on my life. I've written elsewhere here as to how Shatner is my surrogate father. Stewart's got a great command of stage and screen--heck, even his voice overs are powerful.

But Nathan Fillion--that man IS the captain of choice. Mal Reynolds. Part pirate, part captain, underneath it all a Sargent and sailor and in spite of himself, a swell guy. Throughout the series, Firefly, he says variously that he's a bad guy, a rascal, a mean old man, destined to a special hell...but in my books, he's the imperfect hero we all want to be.

If the scene above were real, not photoshopped or a joke in a wax museum, I am certain both of the Star Trek captains could take direction from Mal. I know I do.

A Tradition

Now, I'm not going to review my whole 500 posts to see if I've written on this, but I'm sure that I have, and I'd venture that I've done it more than once. Back then, I bet I whined about not having much in the way of traditions, but I'd like to revisit that.

Last week I shared a workshop at iTRAC on digital autobiography, and in that setting, I shared a tradition my family had at Christmas: watching slideshows and 8mm home movies.

It was a great tradition that I did not then appreciate, of course, being a kid. The added value was not the popcorn or the movie itself; it was instead the folklore, the family narrative, the voice-over provided by a chorale of familial voices laughing and chiming in on that time my cousin covered herself with talcum to be a ghost or how I once said "boobs" at a Thanksgiving gathering. Almost all those voices have been stilled now by mortality, and in that era none of us thought to record them. (I sure wish we would have!)

The tradition lives on, at least that of storytelling. Every night I am called upon to offer up a long short story. I've been doing this nightly for over ten years now. I'm unschooled in storytelling, but I've learned a lot on the job. What gets a laugh. What's memorable. What gives the kids bad dreams...and I'm wanting to up my game as they get older and read the works of "real" storytellers like Mark Twain.  I hope to take several workshops on storytelling in the future.

Often our stories are collaborative efforts. My wife is amazed at how I build stories from ingredients. I will solicit the kids for one ingredient each, then I spin it into the story in a significant way. They might offer, for instance: pirate, chickens, uncle and underwear. I cannot get away with something like "Your uncle became a pirate and drew chickens on some underwear which he then flew as his flag." 

And, lesson learned from the 8mm days, sometimes I record the stories as they're told, or I "can" a story by recording it in advance, saving a few up for when I might be on the road or something. These are digitally recorded and stored up to someday give the kids' kids. 

Reboot

With what now do I amuseth myself these days?

Unfortunately, too often it's work by day, home economics by night. In the years this blog went dormant, I gained some mastery of exercise, animal husbandry, and I'm well into writing my first young adult literature novel. I've gotten traction and a team of experts to help in the arduous task at work of faculty development. 

But home/free time amusement? I like entertaining questions my kids raise, like the other day they were razzing me about bird seed. If you plant it, will it grow birds? If birds eat it, aren't they then cannibals? Even in asking this, they were giggling, all of us knowing how ludicrous it was, and at the same time knowing I would give the subject exhaustive coverage in over-the-top speculation.

 I comb over home improvement books like bridezilla does the latest issue of Bride's magazine. I lay awake at night debating over cantaloupes or watermelon in the garden of the year. I imagine myself at the helm of a wicked cool roto-tiller that would make even Tim Taylor envious.
 

 And thanks to a friend who's not shy at calling me out to help me improve, I'm spending ample time circling the horsepower around the idea of going public. He suggested I have lots to share and that I'm doing a disservice to others by keeping it to myself. That may sound like a license to blather, but I hope to put it to better use.

 There's no way I can resist returning to my good ol' blog now, especially when coupled with this article on Showing your Work. Here's to a fresh start!