Well, the holidays are over. Life is getting back to normal, but before it does let me harken back a couple of days. Yes, I remember the moment well.
‘Dad, want to do a puzzle with me?? five year old Sean politely asked.
‘Sure,? I said to the pint-sized me. Sean likes puzzles and for Christmas received at least one, an 80-piecer. I turned around to actually look at him and there in his hands was what has become the bane of my existence, the thorn in my side, pain in my neck — yes, the proverbial monkey in my wrench.
All 42-inches of Sean stood before me with a Milton Bradley 3-D Puzzle — a puzzle of such proportions that, when emptied onto the big, wooden dining room table there is no room for a luke warm cup of hot chocolate. Mentally, I said, ‘Gulp.?
To the smiling Sean I said, ‘Wow. That’s a big’un.?
To those dads out there who like doing things with their sons and daughters let me say: A 3-D Millennium Falcon (the space ship Han Solo piloted in the first Star Wars movies) is not a father-child bond-building endeavor. I’ll add this: I had more fun five years ago when I had to fish around in Number One Shamus? number two to make sure he passed a swallowed penny.
The 3-D Millennium Falcon puzzle is an 857-piece adventure into the bowels of Hell. All pieces are about an eighth of an inch thick and made of gray foam. The color of the Millennium Falcon is gray — so most of the 857 smackin frackin pieces are gray. They all look the same, except some pieces have a measurement of one half inch long by one quarter inch wide.
In the prophetic words of Charlie Brown, ‘ARRG!?
We spread out all the pieces.
‘Okay son, we can do this. Turn all the pieces up so we can see the pictures on them.?
About an hour later, all were right side up. We stared at them. We looked at them some more. We looked at each other and then back at the mass of little foam pieces before us. After a while Sean came up with the idea of getting his plastic, miniature replica Millennium Falcon. This thing is sweet — it’s about two feet wide and allows you to place Star Wars action figures in the cockpit. ‘This is poppy-outing (Sean slang for three dimensional), this should help.?
So, we put that on the floor next to us for reference (there was no room on the full-sized dining room table). And, then we looked at the puzzle pieces. Unlike a regular flat puzzle, this brain scramble has no edge pieces to start out with. Unlike most sane puzzles, this beaut is not full of brilliantly different colors with definable lines. Oh, no. Oh no not this one.
I went to the closet and got out some higher watted light bulbs for the fixture above the table. It made sense to me, that brighter light would help us easier spot differing patterns, textures and shades of gray among the 857 pieces.
We stared at the pieces laying before us bathed in brilliant light on the table. Soon Sean’s very own mother, Jennie, was at the table trying to help. Eight-year-old Shamus isn’t smart for nothing. He walked by, in a split second assessed the situation as hopeless and kept on walking.
In 72 hours we pieced together about 50 pieces. Great, 50 down, 807 (not that I am counting) to go. I will give this bit of praise: Both Sean and Jen are very patient. But as my frustration mounted I kept on asking myself, where did this widow-maker come from?
And then, after about the one-millionth head scratch it came to me.
Oh, yeah. We made a purchase two summers ago at a garage sale off of East Hegel Road in Hadley. It was in great shape, it looked hardly used. Now I know why — the original owner’s dad had finally had enough. I am sure he probably said something in the heat of battle like, ‘Either this piece of blankity blank goes or I do!?
Upon hearing the outburst the original owner’s mom decided the family garage sale would be the ensuing weekend. And, that’s where the Rush clan entered the Twilight Zone. We bought it, got it home and opened it up. I quickly put the pieces back in the box and hid it in the boys? closet. It was quickly forgotten. Until this past weekend.
I just had a wicked thought. Wouldn’t it be a kick in the pants if the original owner had a mean streak in him or her and threw away one or two pieces.
Personal Note of Advice To Area Dads: This spring, do not purchase a 3-D Millennium Falcon puzzle at any garage sale, even if the price is marked as 25 cents (unless of course, you want to do me a favor).
E-mail Don: dontrushmedon@charter.net