Thursday, April 16, 2015

A Childhood Experience

I was young, of course. 1997 was only 8 years after I was born. But my dad was intent on sharing this with me, he loved it when he was in his twenties, still did, and now I was going to see it.

It was love at first site for me too.

It was only a couple years later, after many video game hours had been consumed by the fictional universe, that I began reading earnestly novels set in the same place. I spent a good part of 5th-8th grade reading an exorbitant amount of them. I became an expert. I'd quote lines all the time at home and even at school to the one friend who wouldn't make fun of me for doing so.

But I still remember going to the theatre with my dad, maybe more than anything. It was the crummy, mildew-laden theatre that is now long gone, in the back of a strip mall that was half empty, the glory days of another rust-belt city long gone, flights to suburbia leaving this urban location in disarray, on its way out then, supplanted by all new theatres with all new sound systems and newfangled stadium seating. But it was home for the evening and there I was flying and lifting and imagining and swinging and roaring. And we would see the other ones at the same theatre, sharing a bucket of popcorn, and I'd go to school the next day and we'd all huddle around at recess or lunch and make the sound effects and smile and laugh and how amazing it was, everyone liked it at that age, boys and girls, we were talking, and we were anticipating the next entry, one kid even came in wearing a t-shirt one day, emblazoned and all, and we congratulated him on his great taste.

I'm 26 now. 1997 is a long way away, 1977 is a longer way away, but for a galaxy far, far away, I've never felt closer.

Can't wait until December. May the Force be with you, always.

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