Help Me Obi-Wan

“Oh my God!” I said with a combination of confusion and disgust while cleaning up after dinner.

“What?” Stephanie asked, turning quickly to make sure I hadn’t hurt myself.

“I can’t believe it,” I said, more to the wall than to anyone else. “I’m reading a book about Yoda.”

“Oh Honey,” she said, her eyes filled with true sorrow as if I had just told her my brother died. She reached up and gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Let’s not tell anyone that, okay?”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that a grown man would read a book called Yoda: Dark Rendezvous?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, her sympathy evaporating. “How can you read something like that after reading In Cold Blood and To Kill a Mockingbird?”

“I don’t know,” I said, not seeing any real reason to be reading such drivel aside from the fact that I’ve collected and read Star Wars novels for years. “I think I need to write about it on the blog.”

“Oh no, c’mon. Don’t do that,” she said, the pleading in her eyes more pronounced than ever. “We have friends who read your blog. We don’t need to tell anyone about this, do we?”

“I just think it’s something I need to explore.”

“Well, if you do, be sure to mention my reservations on the subject,” she said, leaving me to finish the dishes alone as she headed for the living room where the 2006 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, March, sat on the couch waiting for her return.