February 25, 2024 - Renouncing My Obsession

I was six years old when my parents took me to see Star Wars in 1977. From what I've been told, my mother was a bit worried that Vader was going to scare me. All I know is when he stepped onto that blockade runner, my life changed forever. 

For over forty-five years, Star Wars has been an essential part of my identity, my existence. I've forged friendships over it; when one of the campus dorms was showing the (then only) trilogy, the first movie ended, and the woman next to me stood up to leave. I said to her, "Where are you going? There are two movies left. Sit down." She did. And we've been close friends ever since. Just as I've been close friends with the guy who was sitting in the row in front of me, the only other person cheering for the Empire.

When Episode I came out, I was fortunate enough to get a pass to an advance screening, albeit one about 400 miles away. When my mother mentioned this to her mother, it was with a comment somewhat along the lines of, "Do you believe this kid? Spending hundreds of dollars to see a movie he'll see in a week anyway?" My grandmother, bless her, asked, "Did it make him happy?" It did. And then some. When Episode III was coming out, I was talking to a coworker who had never seen any of the movies about how I was seeing it half a dozen times that weekend. When she asked me what I would do if I didn't like it, I told her I didn't understand the question. Of course I was going to like it. It's Star Wars!

Our Star Wars marathons--once viewings by three people over the course of one afternoon--have evolved over eighteen years into weekend-long events with dozens of people, occasion-specific treats, and Star Wars-centered games and activities. And let's not forget the Star Wars room, the precursor to what my wife has thrice agreed will be our Star Wars house, the room that was intended to keep people from staying over but instead made people want to stay over. 

But it all began with Vader. When the prequel trilogy arrived, I was ecstatic. Yes, I knew it contained myriad problems, but my obsession allowed me to overlook them. Then the sequel trilogy arrived. A throwback to the early days, but without the same oomph factor. Again, my obsession allowed me to overlook that. Then the television shows. And the stand-alone films. And more and more and more. 

And through it all, Vader's role changed. While he was once the face of the franchise, he has now been relegated to just another character. While the first six films all had him as the centerpiece, now he's just one character in a single part in the grander galaxy of stories. I think I saw it all happening, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. Even when I saw the videos of Vader at Disney World busting moves to "U Can't Touch This" (yes, I included the link, so I'm not the only one seeing it), I willed myself to look past it. 

But with that change, my obsession began to dwindle. Just over three years ago, we dismantled the Star Wars room. My wife did offer me the chance to convert our office to Horatio's room, but I dreaded the day when he looked around and asked why Vader has a bigger room than he does. So now, with a few choice exceptions, all the memorabilia is boxed up in the basement. I'm unsure when (or if) it will be unboxed.

My urge to go to Galaxy's Edge at Disney World has been tempered, with Kylo Ren now the focus of the attraction. True, I won't have to watch Vader dance, but I won't have the Star Wars experience I would want. 

I was finally forced to acknowledge the truth last year when my friend's daughter turned seven. For her birthday, she wanted an Ahsoka light saber to go with her Halloween costume. That's when I realized it was time for me to step aside. She is the same age I was when I dressed as Vader for Halloween; now she gets to step into Ahsoka's shoes. I am no longer the intended audience. And that's okay. I can take a step back, live in my Vader-centered world of the original trilogy (complete with my own personal ending, pressing stop after Palpatine says, "Now, young Skywalker, you will die."), and I will be content. 

I have no idea if Horatio will have any interest in this galaxy far, far away, let alone an obsession with it. He'll be exposed to it, but he'll have his own thing, I'm sure. And when he wants to wallpaper his room with whatever it is, I'll be the first to help, recognizing that part of myself in him.