The request from my dear friend was straightforward: Can you be in charge of βStar Warsβ?
Her 6-year-old son isnβt ready to see the movies, but kids in his class are talking about it. Everyone is talking about it because of the new movie. Classmates were speaking a different language and told him they were βtalking Ewok.β
What is that? What does it sound like? What are Ewoks? Where do they live? Why are they called Ewoks? What are droids?
Sheβs only seen the original movie and that was a long time ago (but not in a galaxy far, far away).
βStar Warsβ is a big deal. He has a lot of questions β questions she canβt answer. Time to call in Tia, she decided. I was honored to be asked. This is important. Itβs a shared experience, something many people can talk about, serving as the same social lubricant as sports, but across a vast expanse. Our modern mythology.
I grew up without a television at home, and I remember the common language that βStar Warsβ provided on the playground and beyond. We saw it when it came out in 1977. My backyard was the site of countless battles with our Wiffle bat or wrapping-paper-tube lightsabers.
I put tights on my head and twisted the legs into Princess Leia buns. Everyone wanted to be Han Solo or Luke. The tall kids were always Chewie. I was convinced I could understand R2-D2βs beeps and bloops. We had a connection. Still do. Iβm wearing an R2-D2 jacket my husband gave me as a birthday present as I write this.
So yes, I will be in charge of βStar Wars.β He will know that there are only really three βStar Warsβ movies β the three βprequelsβ are computer-generated literalism. They have none of the humanity of the original movies, a heroβs search played out in a story among the stars. The Force became a literal thing in those later movies, not the spiritual connection for good we believed in at the beginning. And donβt even get me started on Jar Jar Binks.
We scheduled lunch. I brought a picture book with the characters to explain who is who. He brought library books to read to me, and to learn about the ships and vehicles. We spread them out next to the chips and salsa at Michaβs, and I began to tell the story of βStar Wars.β Itβs a story of good versus evil. Itβs a made up story β Iβm interrupted by βI know that, Tia, because it happens in spaceβ β and it can get complicated.
I explained Luke, Princess Leia, Obi-Wan Kenobi, C3PO and R2-D2. Han Solo and Chewbacca are best friends. Chewbacca is the co-pilot on the Millenium Falcon. The Death Star looks like a planet but is a ship that can move, and itβs very, very bad.
Then came the questions.
Where does Darth Vader live? Why is the Death Star so easy to sneak onto? What does R2-D2 tell the Death Star when he connects to it? Why does the Millenium Falcon need two people to fly it? Where do they sit to fly it? How do you get into the Millenium Falcon? What does it look like on the bottom? Why does Darth Vader have a cape? Did Luke have a job on Tatooine? Does he have friends there? Whatβs a moisture farm? Why does he fly the X-wing? What is a Yoda?
Where does the Empire park its vehicles? Where does the Rebel Alliance park its vehicles? Why are Ewoks furry? Why doesnβt Darth Vaderβs TIE Fighter need another pilot to help fly it like the Millenium Falcon does? Where did Princess Leia put the secret message in R2-D2? Was it on a piece of paper? What button did Obi-Wan press to make it play? Is Lando Calrissian a good guy or a bad guy?
We spent an hour and a half at lunch, with nonstop questions. I didnβt make things up, but these were details Iβd never really thought about before. I guess the Empire parks its vehicles on the Death Star. Where else would they park them?
At one point I described R2-D2 turning off the tractor beam on the Death Star as him being like an IT guy who fixes computers in an office. Not really a great answer for a first-grader, but he was on to the next query. And the next. And the next.
Such curiosity is inspiring. I may not know all the answers to his questions, but I do know this:
The Force is strong with this one.
