A visit with Cashel...
Cashel arrived. Or, perhaps, to be more accurate, I should say Obi Wan Kenobi arrived. Cashel was completely in the fantasy world. Leaping about with his invisible light saber, running by us manically, making light-saber sounds, checking himself out in the mirror.
Maria said to me at one point, "I guess I have been wondering lately: .... Is there such a thing as too much Star Wars?"
This brought up a memory for me. When I was 9 and 10 years old, I became so obsessed with the movie Oliver that I was actually experiencing a semi-psychotic break with reality. I would sit in our den at the Paul Avenue house, listen to the whole thing through, pick up the needle, and place it back at the beginning again. Over and over and over and over. It bordered on being an unpleasant experience, to be quite honest. I ACHED. My heart ACHED. I would sit with my ear right next to the speaker, literally pressed up against the speaker, dreaming myself into the world of the musical. I couldn't even really have a conversation about it. Nobody could touch my level of obsession. Well, nobody except my friend Betsy Hall. We would dress up, and act it out. She was Nancy, I was the Artful Dodger. We were CRAZY.
This was the ushering in, for me, of my dream-world, my fantasy-world, which I still live with today. I am truly the greatest "fan" you will ever meet. I am as loyal as a battered wife. I don't care if the object of my desire makes a bad film, puts out a crappy album, whatever. I will wait, loyal, faithful, for them to return to greatness. But Oliver was the first. And, again, it was almost a painful experience. No matter what I did, no matter how close I sat to the speakers, I couldn't get inside. I couldn't FULLY express how that musical made me feel.
And here is a vivid memory: I was in the den, sitting with my ear pressed up against the speakers, staring at the album cover, lost to the world, listening to the musical for probably the tenth time through, and suddenly the door opened, and my mother peeked her head inside. Her face was very kind, a bit tentative, and apologetic. And she said, with utmost gentleness: "I don't think we're gonna be able to listen to Oliver anymore, okay?" She said it as NICELY as she could. Now, as an adult, I imagine her and my father sitting in the other room, and they hear the first strains of the overture start up for the tenth time in a row, and the two of them saying, "Oh my GOD, I can't take it anymore!!!"
My whole head got red. So red I felt like it would explode spontaneously off of my neck. Reality crashed into my perfect dream-world. Silently, embarrassed, I took the needle off the record. And sat there, blankly, wondering what the HELL I was going to do with myself NOW.
Ha ha ha ha.
Anyway. Cashel's obsession with Star Wars has been raging on unabated for a couple of years now, and it shows no sign of stopping. Funny: I saw the damn movie in its original release, and I have to say that MY obsession with that film pretty much continues on to this day.
I hung out with Cashel in his room for a long time. He was playing feverishly with his Star Wars action figures, letting me know what was going on, informing me of things bluntly: "This is the assassin droid." "Anakin has the dark side in him, but then he goes back to the light side." I would ask him questions and he would answer me forthrightly, after giving the matter some thought.
"Cashel, which one of the Star Wars movies is your favorite?"
Brief moment of contemplation, then matter-of-fact statement: "Attack of the Clones--" (Of course, because he just saw it!!) "And then Phantom Menace."
I nodded. "I think my favorite is Empire Strikes Back."
He glanced at me briefly, took this in, kind of couldn't deal with it, and then went back to playing.
He was singing the Star Wars theme, as he played. I joined in at one point. But I guess I got TOO into it, because he said to me, "Stop."
I said, "You don't want me to sing?"
He said, "Well ... no ... because ... I am trying to concentrate."
Aha. Good to know. I backed off.
Then would come the random questions. "Why did the Senator turn the cameras off in her room?"
I said, "Well, I think she is so used to being stared at, and watched, that she just got sick of it. She wanted some privacy so that she could sleep. I mean, how would you feel if your whole life, people were looking at you like this --" I shoved my face right up against his face, with big staring googly eyes. Cashel burst into laughter. I love how he laughs, because he literally shakes his whole body. Like that moment in "The Night Before Christmas" where Santa laughs like a bowlful of jelly. Cashel is definitely a bowlful of jelly.
I was then put through rigorous Jedi training. Obi Wan Kenobi was quite a stern taskmaster, I must say. I had a light saber, and I was practicing my moves. I was going in a very Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon direction. Obi Wan Kenobi then froze me like a statue. Told me sternly to not move, because he had to go have an important conference with another Jedi master. Cashel then walked away, leaving me there. Frozen. He was outside the room and I could hear him having a pretend conversation about important galaxy matters. Which was hysterical.
He also said to me, in a tone of huge generosity and open-mindedness, "Girls can be Jedi Knights."
"Phew! Glad to hear it!"