A Galaxy Far Far Away

Give me a week off and what do I do? I hop on a plane with my brother and nephew and fly across the country to a Star Wars convention, of course. I don’t own a storm trooper costume (yet), and don’t really understand the plot of the last three movies, but I squarely belong to the generation that fell in love with the original movies. I was 5 years old when the first Star Wars movie came out. I have a pointed, if disjointed memory of my parents taking me and my older brother to see it in the old round cinema in Knoxville. I pined for the release of the next two movies. I had the action figures, the millennium falcon and even a Darth Vader mask that is rumored to be still hanging around in my brother’s basement. My 11th birthday party was at a showing of Return of the Jedi. And thus witnessing the festivities and curiosities of a Star Wars convention was a guilty pleasure. I tried to get my photo with as many costumed participants as I could, which I’ve posted on my flickr site. It wasn’t until after I returned to the Sugarland tour that I was hit with the incredible idea of inviting stormtroopers to work as security for us backstage. A missed opportunity that I’ll have to wait until the next convention to set right.