Updated: May 20, 2020
Originally Published: May 4, 2015
“Hey Mom, which Star Wars movies have you seen?”
“I’m not sure.”
“C’mon, think! One, two, three, four, five, or six?”
“Um, maybe one?”
“A New Hope?”
“Sounds familiar.”
“Did you see the one where Han Solo gets frozen in carbonite?”
“I think so?”
“And Princess Leia comes to rescue him—guess who she brings?”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“GUESS!”
“Luke?”
“Nope!”
“Then I don’t know.”
“GUESS! Here’s a hint: he’s big and furry and goes HNEUW HNEUW HNEUW.”
“Chewbacca?”
“YES! And she also brings R2D-TOON and C-3PO.”
“R2-D2, actually.”
“No, it’s R2D-TOON.”
“Seriously, it’s R2-D2. No ‘N’ at the end.”
“Fine, if you say so.”
“Did you see the one where Darth Vader fights the Emperor?”
“I don’t think so.”
“He does! Because the Emperor is a Sith.”
“Are Siths bad?”
“Yep, they’re the villains. Jedi are the heroes.”
“Oh.”
“Did you see the one where Yoda kicks the bucket?”
“Can’t recall.”
“My friend Matthew has seen all ten movies—he even saw number nine!”
“Wait, there are only six.”
“No, he said he saw the ninth one!”
“But that’s impossible.”
“Mom! He SAW NUMBER NINE!”
“Alright, he claims to have seen the ninth one.”
“In the first movie, you see Anakin Skywalker as a kid—guess how old he is?”
“Uh, nine?”
“YES! And he eventually becomes—”
“Who?”
“Hint: his name starts with DV.”
“Darth Vader?”
“Bingo!”
“And who else do you see?”
“No clue.”
“Guess.”
“I give up.”
“Hint: he has four light sabers.”
“General Grievous.”
“YES! How’d you know that?”
“Because you told me yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that…”
This endless barrage of Star Wars trivia has been my life since the summer when I inadvertently let my son, Liam, watch the original trilogy. You see, I made it through the first 38 years of my life without seeing any Star Wars movies—well, mostly. I vaguely remember being dragged to see Return of the Jedi, but it was a blur.
At six, I dismissed the movie as a boy thing. My brother and cousins were into spaceships and lightsabers, while I preferred gymnastics and baking. As I grew up, I realized that many of the girls in my class were just as into Star Wars as the boys were. My disinterest in Jedi stories had less to do with gender and more to do with my struggle to connect with pop culture.
In seventh grade, while others were glued to Teen Beat and belting out Duran Duran songs, I was out of the loop. I even faked a crush on Andrew Ridgeley just to fit in. But eventually, I embraced my status as the odd one out—one of the few kids in the ’80s who hadn’t seen those iconic films. It became a fun conversation starter at parties, where I’d get raised eyebrows and gasps when I admitted I hadn’t seen what some consider one of the “sacred texts of our generation.”
I thought I could maintain this refusenik status indefinitely, but then I had kids. One day, my older son, Liam, came home from a sleepover and asked, “Do you know what a lightsaber is?” Suddenly, I was surrounded by two boys obsessed with everything Star Wars. It was lightsaber this and lightsaber that. Just a few mornings ago, I overheard them reenacting scenes. “Come, Luke, join me on the dark side!” said Liam. “Okay!” replied his little brother. And thus began my daily interrogation sessions about the franchise.
By the end of summer, I caved and agreed to watch the first trilogy with them. I hoped to come away enlightened, feeling that childlike wonder everyone talks about. I mean, who wouldn’t want to recapture that joy? But, alas, it didn’t hit me that way. Maybe I’m too old or too cynical. The special effects today have certainly spoiled me. While I found A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back entertaining, they didn’t keep my full attention—I even checked my email during some scenes.
But I have to admit, it’s nice to finally understand what everyone else is raving about. Those endless Star Wars quizzes with Liam would be even more tedious without some background knowledge. And while I’m not convinced it qualifies as a sacred text, it’s nice to have a bit more context when I read books that reference the series. For example, when Mary Karr mentions “the big hairy Wookie,” I can now picture Chewbacca!
As for Halloween, I’m not sure we can pull off a General Grievous costume—he has four arms, which seems a little ambitious. But I’m leaning toward dressing the boys as Darth Vader. Just imagine: Big Darth Vader and little Darth Vader, all ready to take on the universe together. My acupuncturist suggested the whole family could dress in black, light sabers in hand, ready to rule the galaxy. And honestly, that doesn’t sound half bad.