In a recent conversation with my children, I found myself navigating the intricate universe of Star Wars.
“Mom, which Star Wars films have you seen?” my son asked, a mixture of excitement and impatience evident in his voice.
“I’m not sure,” I replied, feeling a bit lost.
“C’mon, which ones? One, two, three, four, five, or six?”
“Maybe one?” I ventured tentatively.
“A New Hope?” he prompted.
“Uh, I think so,” I stammered, trying to keep up.
“Did you see the one where Han Solo is turned into carbonite?”
“Perhaps?”
“And Princess Leia rescues him, bringing along who?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“GUESS!” he urged.
“Luke?”
“No!”
“Then I’m stumped.”
“GUESS again. Here’s a hint: he is very large and furry and makes a sound like HNEUW HNEUW HNEUW.”
“Chewbacca?”
“YES! And R2D-two and C-3PO!”
“Actually, it’s R2-D2,” I corrected.
“It’s R2D-TOON,” he persisted.
“Alright, if you say so,” I replied, chuckling at his determination.
“Did you watch the one where Darth Vader fights the Emperor?” he inquired next.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“He does! The Emperor is a Sith.”
“Are Siths the bad guys?”
“Yes, they are. Jedi are the good ones.”
“Oh,” I responded, trying to keep the facts straight.
My son continued, “Have you seen the movie where Yoda dies?”
“I can’t recall.”
“My friend Liam has watched all ten movies, even the ninth!”
“Sweetheart, there are only six,” I corrected gently.
“No, he insisted he’s seen number nine!”
“Okay, if he says so,” I said, bemused.
As I listened to my son’s enthusiasm, I reflected on my own history with the franchise. Until recently, I had navigated 38 years of life without engaging with Star Wars. My only vague memory was of being taken to see Return of the Jedi as a child, which left me bewildered rather than enthralled.
Initially, my disinterest stemmed from childhood gender norms. My brother and cousins were engrossed in spaceships and galactic battles, while I gravitated towards gymnastics and reading. Yet, as I grew older, I noticed that many of my peers, both male and female, adored the films. It became clear that my lack of interest was more about my disconnect with pop culture than my gender.
In seventh grade, while others fawned over pop stars, I struggled to find common ground. My attempts to fit in led to me pinning up a picture of Andrew Ridgeley and feigning an appreciation for Wham!, while secretly enjoying a Broadway soundtrack instead. Eventually, I embraced my role as an outsider—someone who had never seen the films that so many others cherished. It often sparked intrigue at social gatherings, as people expressed disbelief at my lack of exposure to what some consider “sacred texts of our generation.”
I had resolved to maintain my status as a Star Wars refusenik until parenthood changed my plans. My partner, a cultural studies professor, introduced my children to the franchise, igniting their obsession. Suddenly, my household was filled with light saber conversations and relentless questions about the movies.
After several months of being interrogated, I finally caved and agreed to watch the original trilogy with my sons. I hoped to discover the magic that had captivated so many. While I wanted to feel that childlike wonder, I found myself distracted. Although A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back were enjoyable, they didn’t captivate me as I had hoped. I even left briefly during the climax of the latter to run an errand, and my partner sighed in disappointment when I shared this.
While I may never understand the fervor surrounding Star Wars, I acknowledge that watching the films has enriched my cultural literacy. I can now relate to references in literature, such as those made by Mary Karr in her memoir Cherry, and feel more connected to the conversations around me.
As Halloween approached, I contemplated costume ideas for my boys. While a General Grievous costume seemed ambitious, I considered a simpler option: both of them dressing as Darth Vader. With light sabers in hand, our family could present a unified front ready to “rule the universe.”
It’s a picture I find quite charming.
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In summary, while my late introduction to Star Wars may not have transformed my life as dramatically as I once thought, it has provided me with a broader cultural context and deeper connections with my children’s interests.
Keyphrase: Star Wars first experience
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