A family history, told through french fries
Today is my little brother’s 30th birthday — though it may be time to lose that “little.”
At a height of 6 feet 5 inches, Glen outgrew everybody in the family years ago — including Mom and Dad. Really, there is only one explanation for his size: all those Jedi fries.
We grew up in the 1990s, more than a decade after the first Star Wars movie was released, but Glen was introduced to the sci-fi series through older cousins who not only passed down their VHS collection, but also all of their action figures. And just like that, at age 5, Glen was a Stars War addict. He insisted we call him Luke — after Luke Skywalker, of course. He renamed his teddy bear Wicket, after the bear-like Ewok character that joined forces with Luke to fight the “dark side.” And any time we went for burgers and fries, Glen had one mission: Find the “Jedi fry,” the largest fry at the table.
Presumably the Jedi fry provided Glen — er, Luke — with special powers, like the Jedi masters in the movie. And, indeed, the Jedi fry did have magical abilities. If my mother found it first, she could use it to barter with us for good behavior; between siblings, its could be used for good or evil.
“Do you want my Jedi fry?” was the ultimate form of submission.
To this day, I cannot find an extra-long french fry without holding it up and declaring “Jedi fry.” That’s what it is. And that’s what it always will be — just like Glen will always be my little brother, no matter how big he gets.