Life Day isn't officially celebrated throughout the galaxy any more. The Emperor outlawed it shortly after taking power, claiming that humans shouldn't celebrate a Wookiee animal holiday. (I assume they still celebrate on Kashyyyk, where it originated.) I know many families on Naboo and elsewhere still have an unofficial Life Day celebration around that time, but they don't get a day off from work, and there aren't any greeting cards, new clothes, special sales, or decorations.
Which is very sad, but on the other hand, the whole thing was getting out of control, getting bigger and more stressful every year, with increasing emphasis on spending money, and decreasing emphasis on the true meaning of the holiday, which was just to be grateful for the good things in our lives.
But Life Day barely existed on Tatooine to begin with; Shmi had never even heard of it before Cliegg brought her here from Mos Espa. She didn't know when her birthday was either, so we made an executive decision that we would celebrate her birthday every Life Day. Owen, the budding grouch, thought the whole thing was silly, but Shmi and Cliegg were always happy for an excuse to throw a party. There was also a yearly Pre-Life Day Bake-Off in Mos Eisley, which Kane Darklighter's ancient mother kept winning right up until the last week of her life.
They still have the bake-off; they just call it the Mos Eisley Bake-Off now. But I know it's really the Pre-Life Day Bake-Off. (Beru often wins.)
But no one here talks about or even mentions Life Day by name any more. It's not because it's "illegal"; that word doesn't mean much around here anyway. It's more because it reminds people of a happier time that ended very badly.
Some good times are pleasant to remember. Others just hurt.
So, I said "Happy Life Day" to no one in particular when I woke up this morning. (Yes, One-Onegee is still gone, and so is the dog, about which I still owe you an explanation.) Then I set about my daily business, because let's face it, today isn't Life Day, it's not anything, it's just Thursday, and I never could get the hang of those.
My first errand: to the Darklighters' to check on the fish farm. I'm still not sure it's a great idea, but I signed on anyway. I figure, even if it doesn't work out, I at least ought to get some fresh fish out of the deal. The tanks are under construction and I wanted to ask Kane when he would need the water.
When I got there, I was a little shocked by what I saw: a swarm of Sandpeople. Fortunately, I quickly realized that they were not so much a swarm, as a work crew. "They do great construction," Kane said by way of explanation and non-Life Day greeting. "And they're very reasonable."
I told him I would take his word for it. "But," I asked cautiously, "isn't that a little insensitive to Mary Sue, considering what happened to her parents?"
Kane and Dofi gaped at one another for a moment.
"Huh," Dofi finally said. "Maybe that's why she and Biggs tore out of here in such a huff."
Poor kid.
The Darklighters are odd, in case I didn't mention that before, so I didn't mention Life Day to them. They're not Empire loyalists by any means, but Kane never considered himself a Republican either - it was always very important to him that people knew that he was strictly a Tatooine man and Tatooine was not part of either the Republic or the Empire.
Yeah, whatever. I didn't want to give him any of my icky Republican cooties, so I left and went on to Tosche Station to grab my mail and ask about droids for sale. In addition to Biggs, who was hustling some older boys at pool and definitely trying to grow a mustache, was Mary Sue, who was attempting to flirt with Luke, who was cluelessly ignoring her and pawing through a big box of rusty racing engine parts.
I asked Fixer about the Onegee situation, but no one had mentioned or brought in a medical droid, he didn't have any droids to sell, and he wasn't even sure when the Jawas would be coming around again. He offered to lend me his catalog, but I took one look at the prices inside and decided I was going to have to wait for a used one.
Fixer gave me a hard look, like he was thinking about something. Then he did something strange.
He handed me a cold drink. For free.
"You know, because it's Thursday," he said, with a little shrug.
I forgot. Fixer grew up on one of the core worlds.
"Thanks," I said. "It means a lot."
"Don't mention it," he said. (He probably meant that literally. Giving things away is not something he wants to be known for.) Then a fight broke out in the game room and he had to intervene. I'm guessing Biggs was trying to collect on his bet.
"Hey, J" Luke said, by way of non-Life Day greeting. J is the first initial of my Naboo name. It's actually a Gungan name, long story, but the point is, no one can pronounce it, so they usually call me Sandstormer. Luke is the only person who calls me J. I don't know why.
"I just wanted to thank you again for the dog," Luke gushed. "Aunt Beru loves it too."
"It was nothing," I said, but that wasn't quite true. It was better than nothing. I was relieved not to have the dog around any more. About which I still owe you an explanation, but not right now.
"I just don't know how you even remembered my birthday," he said shyly.
"It's easy to remember. It's just a few weeks before your grandmother's birthday, which was also Life Day. She and her husband would throw a big party, and everyone they knew would come in for dinner or dessert and we would sing and play games..."
Luke looked like he had no idea what I was talking about, and I knew why. Cliegg only lived another year after Shmi was killed. We had a small Life Day/Shmi get-together that year, but that was the last party at the Lars homestead. Beru is a warm and generous person, but she has no interest in entertaining, and Owen is the worst host you can possibly imagine. Luke has never heard of Life Day, is only vaguely aware of the concept of a holiday, and has surely never been to a party like the ones his grandmother organized.
He didn't ask about any of that, though. He just asked me if I remembered much about his grandmother. "Sure," I said. "She and her husband were my best friends."
"I wish I could have met them," he said, mostly to himself. He thanked me again and headed towards the game room, dodging some bruised and angry young men muttering empty threats on their way out the door.
My next stop was the Lars homestead. I wanted to pick up some vegetables for myself and Kenobi.
"Don't say it," Owen warned me, by way of non-Life Day/Shmi's birthday greeting.
"I wasn't going to, but now that you mention it, it's funny, I just talked to Luke at the Station and I mentioned his grandmother, and I got the impression that he didn't know today was her birthday."
Owen didn't seem angry, but he wasn't happy either. "We want Luke to know as little about his family history as possible," Owen said. "Don't want him getting any ideas."
"Owen and I don't agree on this," Beru asserted. "I think Luke would forgive us for overprotecting him, if he knew the truth. But it's hard to talk about. We don't completely understand what happened to his father, and we know even less about his mother. There's so little to tell. We're afraid that it would only make him more curious, and he could get into trouble looking for the answers."
Owen chewed his thumbnail thoughtfully for the next hour while I selected some leafy greens and Beru showed off her almost-ready root vegetable crop. She also threw in a small Devaronian chive plant. "No special reason," she said with a smile.
Owen stopped scowling long enough to say goodbye. "And Sandstormer..."
"Yes?"
"If Luke asks again about Shmi..."
"Hey, it's not for me to tell him about private family-"
"No, no. I was going to say, if he asks again, you know, she was his grandmother. He should know about her. If we try to talk about it, Beru will get upset" - trust me, they'd both get upset - "he'll know there's more, we just can't do it. But if you're willing to do it, it'd be good for the boy."
Wow. Okay.
Next errand: Kenobi's. I see Kenobi every year on this day. Kenobi probably feels the loss of Life Day more keenly than anyone else, given that it was once his duty to protect the Republic, so every Life Day we get together for a small but nice meal for "no special reason" and we pointedly don't talk about old times. It isn't supposed to be a special day, so we pretend it isn't, but we both know it is.
Forty years after leaving Naboo, I still feel weird about running errands and collecting my mail on Life Day. It just doesn't seem right. Everything should be closed. Everyone should be at home with their families.
But I'm sure Kenobi feels a lot worse. It's only been 13 years or so for him.
That speeder bike was there. There was a small portable cooler on the back. I wondered if I had been wrong to assume that I was invited, and wasn't sure if I should go in, but I had more vegetables than I needed, so I decided to bring them, and then if it was awkward, I would excuse myself and leave.
Kenobi was already tipsy when he answered the door. "Hey, Sandstormer!" he cried, by way of non-Life Day greeting. "I'll take these," he said, accepting my bag. "We were just about to have tea and sandwiches."
I kid you not. This guy and his tea. It wasn't awkward in the least, except that his friend was sitting there staring at me. I couldn't tell if he was smiling or not. His face was streaked with red and black markings - I don't know whether they were tattoos or his own coloring. The yellow things on his head that I had once assumed to be tufts of hair were actually horns. Horns!
Then the guy did smile. I could tell because it showed all of his yellow teeth. Or should I say both of them. They were a little messed up. Or maybe he had more than two and I just couldn't see the others because they were black?
"Drag up a rock," the striped man said, indicating a... well, not a chair exactly, more like a box, but it was fine for sitting. Kenobi only owned two chairs, both of which had already been claimed.
"You will not guess what Fil brought for dinner," Kenobi giggled at the counter. He appeared to be fixing me a sandwich, but the preparation seemed to involve giddily waving a big knife around, which made me a little nervous.
"Have some tea," Fil growled, shoving a filled cup at me. "Trust me, it's much better when Kenobi lets me brew it." I felt it might be unwise to refuse, so I took a tentative sip. Then a bigger one. It wasn't too bad.
"Go on, guess what," Kenobi prodded.
I wanted to guess "nerf," because that is the traditional Life Day dinner, but you can't get nerf on Tatooine. Also, I wasn't sure such a direct reference to Life Day would be wise, even with him in such a good mood.
"Chickenbutt," I guessed, referring to a childhood joke.
"Nerf!" Kenobi cried triumphantly, bringing a tray of sandwiches to the table. "Well, processed nerf slices, but it's more nerf than not. Oh, by the way, this is Fil."
"I figured," I said, accepting a large sandwich gratefully. Apparently, in that short time, he had managed to wash and slice some salad greens for the sandwiches, so that's what all that knifework was about.
"Oh," I said after my first bite. I was at a loss for additional words. Then I managed to scrape together a few more words. "It's been, like, forty years I guess. I haven't had nerf since I was a kid. I actually thought maybe they had even outlawed it."
"Not on Kashyyyk," Fil grinned. A fleck of salad green seemed to float in the empty space between his lips, confirming my black-tooth theory.
Impressive. It's a long way between Kashyyyk and here. A very long way.
"Fil is a courier of sorts," Ben explained. I had a pretty good idea what "of sorts" meant. I figured he was probably a smuggler, but I don't know what he could smuggle in that odd little ship. Certainly not regular cargo.
"I can't believe how good that is," I said.
Fil laughed. Really laughed. Howled.
"I know what you're thinking about," Ben said. "Qui-Gon."
"I wish I had brought a camera," Fil wheezed, breathless with mirth. "The look on your face."
"The look on Bill's face. He didn't have a clue."
"The look on Dartha's face!"
"It was pure coincidence that we both showed up to the same Life Day dinner," Ben explained. I'm not sure how a Life Day dinner can be a coincidence, but whatever. "It was a very elegant affair at a major celebrity's home. Fil had brought a freshly killed nerf and was preparing it for us in the kitchen."
He paused for a moment, picturing the scene. I was trying to picture it myself - Fil cooking dinner for an elegant celebrity. No picture was forming. I drank some more tea and started on my second sandwich. I was incredibly hungry.
"Qui-Gon, my master, showed up unexpectedly," Ben continued. None of his story was making any sense. "Drunk. He was drunk. And/or stoned. He brought a package of processed nerf slices just like these and a loaf of nasty super-bleached white bread. He complained about M-, uh, Fil's nerf steaks and then demanded mustard for his sandwich."
What do you say to a story like that? "I guess times have changed."
"Yeah," Ben said, lapsing into a momentary funk. "I thought I was having a bad day then, but if I had known then what I'd be doing, what, 25, 30 years later...." He shrugged morosely. "You never appreciate what you have. I would have treasured that moment."
"You would have been miserable," Fil said, and went outside.
Fil was right, of course. Whatever self-pity Ben had been feeling on that long-ago day would only have been worse if he had known that he'd someday be grateful for processed nerf slices. Not to mention all the other things that had transpired in the intervening years. I know that would have ruined Life Day for me.
"By the way, I found these in your bag," Ben said, handing me my mail. I'd inadvertently given him my bag instead of his. That was okay - they were the same, except for the chives, but I knew Ben hated those, so he'd give them back. "Looks like you got some news about your droid?"
I hadn't actually looked at my mail before, and I was scanning the envelopes when Fil returned with a box. I was surprised to see a letter from SORAS Cybernetics - One-Onegee's manufacturer.
"Go on," Ben encouraged.
I opened the letter. It was dated a few months ago - before Onegee even ran away. Mail service in these parts isn't the greatest.
Dear J. Sandstormer,I also noticed, among my mail, a letter from a law firm on Coruscant stamped "Attention - SORAS customer!". I read that one too. It was dated about a week after the SORAS letter and advised me that if I took SORAS up on their offer of a new droid, I wouldn't be eligible for the class action lawsuit.
According to our records, you are the registered owner of a One-Onegee medical assistant droid.
We are writing to inform you of a potential problem with your droid. It has come to our attention that some of our One-series droids were programmed with malicious code which may cause them to malfunction exactly thirty Coruscant years after their date of manufacture. We want to assure you that your droid will not harm others; however, it may fail to perform crucial life-saving functions.
Therefore, for safety, we advise you to deactivate your droid immediately and remove its power supply. Disassemble the droid and place it in a sturdy shipping container. Use the provided prepaid label to return the droid to us for our research.
Our records show that you are not the original owner of the droid and have not purchased an extended warranty. Although it is normally not our policy for droids that are out of warranty, we take pride in the quality of our products and want to regain your confidence as a loyal customer. We are offering you a credit of up to 10,000 towards a new SORAS droid. Please visit one of our showrooms, or see our online catalog, to place an order at your earliest possible convenience. We will also pay for shipping of your new droid upon receipt of your old droid.
Again, we assure you that your droid does not pose any threat to your safety. However, to ensure your satisfaction, we urge you to exchange your droid as soon as possible.
Thank you in advance for your trust in us. We value your loyalty highly.
Sincerely,
SORAS Cybernetics
While I was reading all of that with my mouth hanging open, Fil and Ben continued to relive that Life Day of yore. Apparently, the cheesecake Fil had just carried in was exactly like the one that Ben's sister had thrown at Qui-Gon as punishment for tacky behavior.
I tasted the cake. It was excellent. I could not remember ever enjoying any meal as much as I was enjoying that one. It was starting to get dark, though, and I needed to get home. I stood up to leave.
Ben offered me some tea to take home. I shook my head. "I've got plenty," I said. "And I'll be honest, it doesn't taste anything like this when I try to make it at home, and I'm not crazy about it."
Fil laughed again. "Does anyone drink this stuff for the taste? Anyway, if you don't like drinking it, you can always smoke it."
Well. That explained a lot! This time, I was truly speechless. I felt like the biggest idiot in the galaxy. More so, because I just realized I was stoned off my ass.
I took my mail, my chives, my own bag of vegetables, another sandwich Ben made for me, and said my goodbyes. I started wishing Ben and Fil a Happy Life Day, but Ben broke in before I could finish - "That doesn't exist any more. Let's not dwell on the happy past. We need to do our duty now for the future."
What a strange thing to say, after reminiscing for hours! But I just shrugged and said thank you and went home.
And now, here I am, alone in my little house just like that first lonely Life Day 40 years ago. And now, as I've done every Life Day since Cliegg died, I come home from the day's errands, lock the door, look around the room, and say to no one in particular, a little sheepishly, so quietly you can barely hear me:
Happy Life Day!
