Storm Trooper Angst

My work area is located downstairs in the back section of the unfinished basement, which means that in order to get to my desk(s) and computers, it is necessary to walk down the stairs to the basement, turn right at Cheryl’s office down the hallway to the future-family-room area (FFRA), then turn left to walk towards the room which will one day be (hopefully) a bedroom. In the early morning before everyone else has arisen, hoping to avoid making lots of noise which might bring them all to the breakfast table (where they will eat everything in sight), it is my custom to go downstairs to begin my day by checking email and reading the morning news on CNN and Slashdot and reddit. Normally my trip is uneventful.

Some few days ago, however, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye while traversing the short hallway between Cheryl’s office and the FFRA. Owing to the time of day and the fact that the caffeine from my Coke Zero had not fully integrated itself into my system, it took some moments for the anomaly to register with my brain.



Upon closer inspection, it appeared that two Imperial Storm Troopers had taken up strategic positions on top of the light switch which controls the lamps in the FFRA. They did not seem to be threatening in any manner; in fact, they were involved in a discussion such as two young people in the early part of their lives might have as they try to determine what really matters in this crazy, mixed-up world of ours.



I sympathized with their dilemma, having wondered at times as to the condition of my own state of “cool”, but did not break in to comment upon their conversation. Having weathered that particular storm years ago, and knowing the particular disdain with which the young people hold the views of grey-haired veterans of Life, I merely smiled and moved on.

One wonders as one comes across these unexpected but entertaining little diversions, whether they reflect the general viewpoint of the younger population, or are a reflection of the turmoil resident in a particular soul. Or if my son James was just feeling particularly mischievous on the preceding evening.