A Glimpse Into My Childhood pt1
A Number of Years Ago in a Trailer Park Many Miles From Here
Nineteen eighty-two. I was just a wee little kid with too much energy and an overactive imagination. Spielberg’s classic movie: E.T. was just about to hit the world like a storm. Sales of Reese’s Pieces would soar. Drew Barrymore would begin her rise to stardom that would consume her childhood like the golden horde of Ghengis Khan. And we would come know that bicycles can fly while fleeing federal agents. None of this mattered to me. My mom had signed us up for a free three month trial offer of Home Box Office, now known as HBO.
The first big movie we watched on our secondhand color Magnavox Television, that my mother had acquired so that us kids could come to the knowledge that Big Bird was a giant yellow bird and not a gray one, was Star Wars. Not the recent prequel trilogy, which makes most older Star Wars fans cringe, but the original, Star Wars Episode IV - A New Hope. My life would never be the same.
I do not remember what I had for dinner that night, but I do remember eating it while sitting on our living room floor and watching Han Solo shoot Greedo in cold blood. Dessert was had while C-3PO and R2-D2 rescued Leia and her erstwhile saviors. I was white-knuckle gripping the shag carpet while Luke raced towards his destiny, screaming the whole time “I know you can do it Luke, I believe in you!” Over the course of the following months, I would watch Star Wars more than a dozen times.
Family trips to the local Ames Department Store took on a new sense of immediacy. My classmates and friends had Star Wars action figures, playsets and vehicles. I wanted in. I wanted to share my newfound love of the force and all things Star Wars. I became the owner of action figures, clothing, linens, and other sundry items depicting my favorite characters and scenes. My mother was supportive of this and even purchased the Star Wars collector glasses from Burger King when they were released. But I was still the little weird kid from the trailer park with too much energy and an overactive imagination. I had no one at school share my passion with.
My next door neighbor, who was only a year younger than me, became my best friend where Star Wars was concerned. After I saw Return of The Jedi, in the theaters during opening weekend 1983, I ran home so that the two of us could digest the implications this movie would have on our action figure scenarios and mock space battles. We had formed a group devoted to the hateful destruction of all things Darth Vader and the idolization of Jedi master Obi-Wan.
Nothing broke me out of my shell like Star Wars. In the years that followed I would add to my collection of fandoms. He-Man would saunter in and then fade away. Voltron would from up and then return whence he came. The Transformers would linger and stay. G.I. Joe would hold a special place in my heart for many years. But Star Wars would always be the one I lost my fannish virginity to.
Nineteen eighty-two. I was just a wee little kid with too much energy and an overactive imagination. Spielberg’s classic movie: E.T. was just about to hit the world like a storm. Sales of Reese’s Pieces would soar. Drew Barrymore would begin her rise to stardom that would consume her childhood like the golden horde of Ghengis Khan. And we would come know that bicycles can fly while fleeing federal agents. None of this mattered to me. My mom had signed us up for a free three month trial offer of Home Box Office, now known as HBO.
The first big movie we watched on our secondhand color Magnavox Television, that my mother had acquired so that us kids could come to the knowledge that Big Bird was a giant yellow bird and not a gray one, was Star Wars. Not the recent prequel trilogy, which makes most older Star Wars fans cringe, but the original, Star Wars Episode IV - A New Hope. My life would never be the same.
I do not remember what I had for dinner that night, but I do remember eating it while sitting on our living room floor and watching Han Solo shoot Greedo in cold blood. Dessert was had while C-3PO and R2-D2 rescued Leia and her erstwhile saviors. I was white-knuckle gripping the shag carpet while Luke raced towards his destiny, screaming the whole time “I know you can do it Luke, I believe in you!” Over the course of the following months, I would watch Star Wars more than a dozen times.
Family trips to the local Ames Department Store took on a new sense of immediacy. My classmates and friends had Star Wars action figures, playsets and vehicles. I wanted in. I wanted to share my newfound love of the force and all things Star Wars. I became the owner of action figures, clothing, linens, and other sundry items depicting my favorite characters and scenes. My mother was supportive of this and even purchased the Star Wars collector glasses from Burger King when they were released. But I was still the little weird kid from the trailer park with too much energy and an overactive imagination. I had no one at school share my passion with.
My next door neighbor, who was only a year younger than me, became my best friend where Star Wars was concerned. After I saw Return of The Jedi, in the theaters during opening weekend 1983, I ran home so that the two of us could digest the implications this movie would have on our action figure scenarios and mock space battles. We had formed a group devoted to the hateful destruction of all things Darth Vader and the idolization of Jedi master Obi-Wan.
Nothing broke me out of my shell like Star Wars. In the years that followed I would add to my collection of fandoms. He-Man would saunter in and then fade away. Voltron would from up and then return whence he came. The Transformers would linger and stay. G.I. Joe would hold a special place in my heart for many years. But Star Wars would always be the one I lost my fannish virginity to.