My husband and I wait in line to see The Rise of Skywalker.
Annoyingly skinny and unwrinkled, few fellow moviegoers viewed the original film. I am seized with the urge to proclaim — complete with drumroll and spotlight — “I’ve seen every Star Wars movie since 1977.”
Hubby indicates where his sock hat will go if I do.
Spoilsport.
Ignoring him, I recall that first, magical night. A medical student then, Hubby orchestrated a rare evening off. We scraped together five dollars for tickets. Annoyingly skinny and unwrinkled, we stood in a long line.
That money could have bought more groceries. This had better be worth it.
“Daaa, da, da-da-da daaa, da. …”
The music captured me. When “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. …” crawled up the screen, I followed the words into dark, velvety space.
I was there.
Breathless.
By movie’s end, this Trekkie admitted Luke Skywalker and Han Solo could compete with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. Besides, Princess Leia defied an evil empire with battle savvy — keeping her clothes on, which I appreciated, even back in 1977.
Though I never would twist my long hair into weird side buns.
Hubby interrupts my reverie with ticket choices that didn’t exist 40 years ago. “3-D? Or IMAX?”
I’m cheap. Besides, running screaming from storm troopers doesn’t sound fun.
As for IMAX — “If I collapse with a heart attack,” I say, “you can explain to the ER why four-story-high space slugs were a great idea.”
“Maybe D-BOX seats?”
Supposedly, full-motion chairs also would immerse us in the action.
“Not after that brunch,” I say.
Hubby agrees.
Finally purchasing plain old (senior) tickets, we find our theater, mostly inhabited by other moldy oldies and cheapskates.
Pre-movie blather runs on forever. This had better be worth it.
“Daaa, da, da-da-da daaa, da. …”
Huge words crawl into dark, velvet space.
I am there.
Breathless.
New characters, plot twists, and weird, intergalactic creatures. Past characters we greet as longtime friends, old glitches, and familiar, weird intergalactic creatures.
All entangled in a horrible, wonderful battle of good versus evil. Despite radical cultural shifts the past four decades, those values remain.
I do like Princess Leia’s new hairdo.
Still, how can “young Skywalker” have aged so? And Carrie Fisher looks like a … a matron.
Um, so do I. Unlike Yoda, we can’t live 900 years.
Despite gray hair, Hubby and I anticipate additional chapters in our own stories. Exciting chapters.
As will the annoyingly skinny and unwrinkled.
Whether young or old, and regardless of Star Wars sequels, prequels or equals, let’s all grab the nearest Wookiee and fly high into new adventures!
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What’s your favorite Star Wars movie?