Today, on the 8th day of my 48th year, I am grateful for Star Wars.
I am thankful for having been a boy when the first Star Wars film came out — when Han shot first, and Luke called out “Carrie” in the Yavin 4 hangar. When R2 couldn’t fly, Obi-Wan didn’t lie, and no one was related to anyone else.
My dad and I came out of Star Wars and started drawing TIE fighters and X-Wing fighters on napkins at the Farrell’s afterward. I started collecting Star Wars trading cards with my best friend John Siegel, and we caused all sorts of Star Wars havoc.
I ate, drank, slept and dreamt Star Wars. It shaped my life, my morality, and my sense of what makes a great story, great film, great myth.
This year, I am especially grateful that the franchise is still alive and well, still making compelling movies in the glorious galaxy George Lucas imagined. For the first time in my life, I have missed a Star Wars film in the theaters, but in a way, it is ok.
I have lived long enough to see the best movie ever made become the biggest, greatest film franchise in world history. I have lived long enough for it to become essential cultural lore. Star War is part of the mythology of our society — more so than the stories of Ulysses or Wu Kong.
I have lived long enough to see my children fall in love with Star Wars.
Even though I have not seen Rogue One yet, and likely will not get to see it in theaters ever, I am content. Star Wars has been good to me. I am very thankful for that.
This is post 12 of 1000 in 2018. Whew! Long way to go!