Radioactive

Star Wars Eulogy

In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril,  Amlodopine,  Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Brother Brother : Carole King



I left you last week, as we were on our way to the movies.  Stink Wars.  Apparently, Darles Chickens somehow colluded with George Lucas in a fantasy re-make of A Christmas Carol.  It was the most maudlin soap opera I have seen since Love Story.  You remember that one?  The hockey playing hero could not skate, and the message was that we never had to say ''sorry" to the one you love.  Trust me, that plan has some holes.  I just saw someone the other day say that the key to longevity in marriage was to wake up in the morning and immediately say "I'm sorry".  As humorous as that might be, my bride would not appreciate the sarcasm, so that falls on the scrap heap as well.

Any person who played any part in the previous movies, came back.  As ghosts.  Seriously.  Solo played Marley, Princess Leia played Christmas Past and Luke Skywalker played Christmas Present.  Even the current cast took turns dying and coming back to life.  At one point, the villain, Kylo Ren, dies and is brought back to life, with Jedi power, by Rey, the heroine.  Then she is killed and, and he, in turn, brings her back to life, with the same powers.  Then, for whatever convoluted reason, he dies again.  Good grief.

At the end, Rey is asked about her last name.  She could not simply be Rey, could she?  And as I have long since totally checked out of the plot, I am thinking, what is wrong with being known by only one name?  Cher?  Oprah? Superman?  Prince?  And the clincher.  Why was Yoda never asked, in previous episodes, the same question?  He liked the power of a single name. Not Rey.  She decided to take the last name of someone else.  She did.

This was the Titanic of the series.  It went down.  To the bottom.  Where it should stay, as an embarrassment to the series, never to be shown publicly again.  George Lucas, however, should be made to watch it daily, until the day he dies, as punishment for leaving fans like me, bitter and disappointed.  I don't know if my Fort Myers buds feel the same.  I'm sure I will hear.

Did I mention that this was a bad movie?  Well, it sadly was.  I love the Star Wars series.  We went with Paul and Donna, who had not seen any of the movies before.  I don't this made her a fan.  What was Lucas really thinking?   There was lots good about the movie, and it could easily have avoided the multiple references to its past.  Apologies not seriously offered to those who thought it wonderful.

That was my first and possibly last movie review.  Thankfully, I'm sure.

I receive numerous jokes and cartoons from friends on facebook and am grateful for them.  They let me escape from the daily grind, and give me chance to laugh out loud.  All by myself, like the fool I am.  And sometimes I hear from friends about their troubles and times of sadness.  And on those occasions, I typically shed a tear for them, again by myself.  Often, more than one tear.

 I am blessed to know so many people who are truly good.  Genuine, caring, considerate friends.  From those we have not seen in years, to those who share my daily life, each owns a piece of my heart.  When my little girl's name shows up on our call display, I break into a silly grin and I have to take a deep breath, before answering, so happy am I to have her call us.  And when I hear, by phone, or email, from old friends, I am similarly elated.  That adrenaline rush is exhilarating.  The power you hold over me is remarkable.  You should know that.  And I am but one of the people with whom you have contact.   I am positive you have the same effect on many others.  Your words are precious and hold tremendous meaning to those of us who love to hear your voice and read your messages.

With that said, a long-ago friend, who I introduced to you last week on my facebook post, sent me this note.  It is beautifully written and paints a picture of my life, and his, oh so many years ago.  I hope you enjoy.

                                                                 Les on the right

Hi back, Robin--

Well, well! So the rumours of you entering a witness protection program after a mis-spent youth are, as we see, unfounded. Thanks for the quick response. And yes, we should catch up after the (very few) years that have passed since that photo was taken ;-)  I've had a look at your recent blog that tells me that you’ve been fighting a battle over your health for quite some time. I have yet to know the details and, of course, I don’t know what you wish to share. But I certainly wish you the best!

Those vests— I wonder where mine is now, or what thin person would it fit. I’d forgotten that your mum had made those for us. We have… a picture… so, even if fame seems to have eluded us as a group, we can be proud of what we accomplished. Do you remember getting paid in pizza rather than cash at one of the Pizza places in Orillia? Or performing for a total of $40 ($10 each!) at Fern Resort? Like so many entertainment stars, we can say that we had humble beginnings; unfortunately, that’s where we stopped! Ah but we had fun. I wonder what happened to the copies of the songs you used to write for the group. My family is musical (well, 2 out of 3 kids anyway) and my daughter— she of the banjo curiosity— was interested in seeing them. You wrote quite a few of the songs we performed as I recall.

Do you know what happened to Graham Downard and Linda Barron? Another web search suggests that Graham, now retired, lives in Orillia but I have yet to follow up as he has no email listed anywhere. I have no idea about Linda although I seem to recall her heading for Toronto. And where are you located? Your blog suggests that you are in the USA. A story in itself, I suspect. My sister, Pamela (living in Sault Ste Marie), and I have relatives in Orillia but I very rarely get a chance to get back, not that I’d recognize the places now. And anyway, they say that you can never go back… which is certainly true of Park Street Collegiate. They bulldozed it and buried the pieces. Egad, do brand-new schools have such a short shelf life!?

I’m retired from teaching, having passed the chalk brush to the next generation of educators. I taught high school English in St Marys (near Stratford) for 32 years and got out before they replaced text books with ipads. My wife had no worries that I would be at a loss in retirement— or be a pain in the ass. I keep busy and since my heart valve replacement last September, I’m doing fine. You’ll see by the web site that we have a hobby, or for Gail, an obsession, with the world of pure-bred dogs, specifically the Irish Red and White Setter. It’s a relatively rare breed and we brought the first one to Canada in 1992. Fortunately, we have an old, large country farmhouse on 3+ acres to give them space. Right now, we have 10 dogs. Gail says running around a show ring keeps me in shape. I beg to differ…

We can share experiences as much as you’d like. My two sons are in the computer business in one form or another. When they try to explain what they do, my eyes tend to glaze over and they know it’s not sinking in. Where they get the computer genes, I don’t know. Gail and I muddle through. Yes, I’d like to reminisce and hear your story.

Best regards,

Les


And so we shall.  Thank you for your note.


I had best tidy up our last week for you.  Kat went off to work again on Tuesday, after a nice long weekend together.  We enjoyed dinners with friends, and bridge.   Our lives continue to be joyous and I am thankful for all we have.

Too many of our family and friends are in the midst of personal trials.  Know that Kath and I hold you tight.  Your job is to fight you battle.  Ours is to pray for your health to return.  Stay strong.

Last week, I asked what you found scary.  I suggested my answer to hear the words "cancer" and "melanoma".  My most recent pathology report was phoned to me last Monday, and it included both those scary words.  I have been clear for a longer period of time than I would have believed possible. That, now, has just ended.  My appointment to schedule the operation, will be next Monday, at Moffitt Cancer Center, and I will keep you apprised of that information, next week.

I intend to write next Monday, but if I am a bit tardy, hang in.  Tuesday, latest.

Your notes and calls are welcome, as always.

Be kind to each other and share your precious love.  See you next week.

jrobinmullen@gmmail.com