First, we'll take a glance at the skies. Although they feature two of three Star Wars kites I've found for Jack and Tommy, we only have two hanging. There isn't room for the Millenium Falcon right now, so I'll eventually set it up and hang it in the basement, until Jack grows tired of the two there already.At the edge of the picture is the Red Baron Triplane, part of a mobile, that features planes from World War I and World War II. These were Pop Pop's favorites as a child, so I make it a habit of supplying models of those for grandchildren too.
Tommy will get his eventually, but not until after the Zollingers get into their own house and don't have to move things again. The same goes for the Star Wars toys, although those remain in storage in my garage shelves waiting. A mobile set can be done later, but the Star Wars stuff--well, that just doesn't remain available forever.
I beg readers not to tell Lydia, because my daughter is not amused by the collection at this point.
And besides, I recognize that the boys now begin to have different interests in things that I loved too.
Tommy, like Pop Pop, has a love for dinosaurs and ancient mammals. I get those for him, but for Jack, it's not a big deal. I figure that the future might have more dinosaurs in Tommy's room than ships and figures from another galaxy. But Pop Pop can do both too.
In the electrical switch at the left of Jack is a night light: a necessity for any boy, who loves Star Wars. It shows a view of the heavens just at the side of Luke's X-wing Fighter.
This picture was an important one. After being nice on Christmas, while Jack pulled faces in every frame, Pop Pop told him that he would look like that permanently after a sound slap.
I would never slap a grandchild. That's something adults saved for their own children, but the threat is what sometimes makes things right in the world. And besides, when that doesn't work as Jack approaches the teen years, I can always use pictures like this to bribe his continued positive camera behavior--especially ones where he doesn't wear pants.
"I see Paris. I see Kalamazoo. I see Jack's bare kazoo." That works. In fact, it occasionally works now, although I use various places in the rhyme to be creative and obnoxious at the same time.
The threat did the trick. No more silly faces irritated me by ruining the moment. I figure that 25 years of teaching helped me develop ways of intimidating young minds into an environment, that was both efficient and acceptable.
Pop Pop still has his mojo.
And how can a boy's man-cave exist in a faraway galaxy without a Wampa rug? We will soon hang it on the wall.
It's a remaining slice of Pop Pop's redneck impulse to put animal heads and skins on the wall as trophies.
And yes, there is a whole bed spread thing with pillows with ships and a Star Wars Theme, but like Tommy, Jack has a Pirates of the Caribbean blanket too.
It comes in very handy on cold nights in Idaho, not just during the winter months. Our thirty days of summer get a bit cold too, especially when grandma and Pop Pop leave the windows open at night to find cool air in darkened July and August skies.
Life was never better than this. Mom was here to play Wii games. Pop Pop can't do things that require that kind of reaction time, unless of course it involves some sort of German dessert.
So Lydia, when you read this, and as Tommy takes a look at these things, I want you both to know that many of them await your next move, and whatever isn't still in its original box in my garage will mean that a suitable replacement will arrive.
Someday, in a galaxy--hopefully close to Idaho--my grandson Tommy will also get a cheesy blog about the things Pop Pop found for his room. And as for Anna and Samantha, I'll do the same there too.
Anna has the greatest collection of Disney princess dresses in the civilized world, with matching slippers and accessories of course. Little Sammie will get the same too. It will be a time, when a visit will be close, and a home will not be a rental.
Moving stuff is not fun, and besides, I figure Lydia was very nice about the whole issue. Her voice seemed strangled with stress and frustration, and I'm sure her eyes flashed just like her mom's, but unlike my Annie, Lydia didn't "damn me all to hell." But I think it was close.
