A Galaxy Far Far Away

New Year's Eve, 1977. Times Square. Star Wars. With whatsisname.

The movie, for me, was little more than a welcome respite from the cold, two warm hours tucked between an outdoor, endless movie line and the crush, afterward, of shivering, drunk revelers waiting for the ball to drop. I thought the way the prologue scrolled into the far reaches of the galaxy was cool. I thought Princess Leia's side buns were adorable, in an odd sort of way. I thought anthropomorphic robots were a tad unrealistic, and I thought the Darth Vader thing was a bit over the top. I know I didn't really follow the plot, because years later I had no idea which Empire was striking back or why we cared about the Jedi returning. I didn't even know they had left.

I don't remember whatsisname's name but I remember he was nice and had come prepared with a bottle of cheap champagne and a couple of plastic flutes. Once, back at school, he had called the local radio station and dedicated RubyTuesday to me, just because he knew I liked it. And he tried to teach me to ski somewhere in New Jersey. I really wish I could remember his name.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, a memorable New Year's Eve with decidedly unmemorable details. Yesterday, about a week shy of thirty-nine years later, I sat between my son and my youngest daughter and saw the latest Star Wars flick. I was determined, this time, to follow the story. My son gave me a brief tutorial on the way, and there was at least the benefit of familiarity on this second go-round. A somewhat helpful prologue scrolled into the far reaches of the galaxy, and it still seemed cool. Harrison Ford, even thirty-nine years later, caught my attention. I'd get lost in space with him any time. Carrie Fisher, well, at least she saved face with a single dignified cinnamon bun at the nape of her neck. I got the feeling she would have happily accepted more than the chaste hug from Harrison, but that's all he offered. Even when she said she loved him. Cad.

Thanks to El Niño, this winter is warmer. It would have been a better year, I think, to celebrate the New Year outside, at Times Square. Or to stand in an endless line snaking around a city block just to see a movie I can't grasp. I enjoyed it more this time, though, sitting between two of my children. No offense to old whatsisname or the original flick. As I have from the time they were little, I would glance at their faces when something struck me as funny, or surprising, or, more often than not, ridiculous. It's always better seeing things with them, through their eyes.

Welcome back Jedi, and droids, and aging princesses and ageless heroes and assorted other motley creatures. Welcome back memories of years gone by and people who somehow stick in my mind though I cannot recall their names. And welcome home, albeit briefly, to my children from galaxies far, and sometimes farther away, and thanks to them for the occasional fresh glimpse at the world, shared through their eyes.