“Are you crying?” That’s what my wife Jade asked me about three weeks ago as I stressed over the logistics of getting me, who lives in Florida, my oldest son Reese, who lives in Tennessee, and my youngest son Kase, who lives in Alabama, together during the three day window we had together during the Christmas holiday, to find time amidst travel, family get togethers, and work schedules, to watch Star Wars Episode IX together. The truth is, I was crying, and then laughing, and then crying some more. She could tell I was stressing and I was trying to “make it work” as plans were changing last minute and exasperated I said, “It’s more than seeing a movie to me. It’s the culmination of what began when I was four years old…..” and then the tears began to well up. She wasn’t sure if I was joking or serious and so she was trying to navigate whether to respond with sympathy or laughter and her question got me tickled at the absurdity of it all. So there we were, laughing through our tears together as I told her the story that got interrupted by my emotions.
A long time ago in a town far, far away, a little boy, not quite five years old, sat on a paint can in front of an old station wagon in the warm summer air, looking up at the night sky above, and at the towering movie screen in front of him. In the summer of 1980 my memaw took me to see my first movie. The Moon-Glow Drive In was showing a double feature of Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back. I was so small, and that screen was so big, and suddenly the quiet night was shattered by the blasting of brass instruments under the direction of legendary composer John Williams. Within moments the screen and the night sky were indistiungishable, both filled with the dark silence of space and innumerable stars. That silent emptiness was quickly replaced with two massive space ships, lasers, explosions, Storm Troopers, and then Darth Vader. Less than five minutes into the opening of Star Wars and I was forever hooked on movies, drive-ins, and Star Wars.
I’ve documented many times before my love affair with movie theaters, and especially the drive-in, and it doesn’t take a psychologist to point out where this passion began. Even now, forty years later, I still feel the magic of that night. Those two movies were the genesis of untold hours spent playing with Star Wars action figures, alone, and with a revolving cast of childhood friends. I had a land speeder, a speeder bike, Jabba the Hut palace, and an Ewok village, my friend Bryan had a TIE Fighter, an X-Wing, and the holy grail…the Millennium Falcon. Together we had enough action figures to recreate the entire trilogy universe on our bedroom floor. We’d both seen the movies enough times to have them memorized line for line and step for step, but in our own created universe we could manipulate and alter the plot lines of the story to suit our interests. If we weren’t in the house playing with the toys we were typically in the woods acting out the scenes ourselves, using sticks for light sabers and our voices for sound effects. If you are from my generation you likely pretended to use the force to open the motion activated doors at the grocery store every time you visited. I was one of the lucky few in my town to have parents who supported my obsession and helped me collect enough of the proof of purchase tabs to mail in to Hasbro and receive an Emperor Palpatine action figure which was not sold in stores and could only be acquired through the mail. Even at bedtime Star Wars was omnipresent. For Christmas I got a pair of Boba Fett underoos which I proudly slept in every night.
Star Wars is more than just a part of my childhood. It’s more than toys and movies and pajamas. Star Wars is the only thing that survived my childhood and passed through me to my children, becoming a part of their childhood while remaining part of me. Star Wars was something that I loved my whole life that they too loved all of theirs. Their love affair began when I received the Star Wars Trilogy box set on VHS for Christmas and sat down the first time to watch it with my then two year old son Reese and his newborn brother Kase. Although their introduction to the saga wasn’t as dramatic as my towering drive-in screen immersion, they fell in love instantly as well. Reese literally watched it every day. He loved it more than Toy Story and Rescue Heroes combined. At the time I was a student in preaching school and had little free time at night, but we were still able to bond as he sat on my lap watching Star Wars while I studied. This scene happened more times than I can recall. His fourth birthday was Star Wars themed, complete with light saber toy and Darth Vader cake.
As his baby brother grew older he too developed a love for the movies and toys, having literally never known a world without it. We watched the VHS tapes, played with the toys, acting out scenes in our living room, and then something magical happened again. In 1998 it was announced that the backstory to the Star War trilogy, enigmatically titled Episodes IV, V, and VI, would be released as a major motion picture. Star Wars Episode I was to be released in the spring of 1999. Finally we would learn how Luke Skywalker’s father Anakin would become Darth Vader. We wouldn’t just get to hear about the Clone Wars in a passing reference from Obi Wan Kenobi, but actually witness them. All of my childhood curiosity, speculation and discussions would be realized on a giant screen, but the greatest part of it all was that I would be able to share this with my two sons. One afternoon in May 1999, after I got out of classes, my little family of four walked into the Malco Majestic at the intersection of Winchester and Riverdale Road in Memphis to watch a brand new Star Wars movie. I was carrying my two and four year old sons and I felt like I was four again myself. This time I wasn’t outside or sitting on a paint can, but my own sons were sitting on my lap and together we looked up in amazement at the giant screen and jumped as we heard the the blasting of brass instruments under the direction of legendary composer John Williams, signaling the beginning of a new trilogy.
I don’t know if they remember this day or not, but it is as vivid to me as if it happened this morning. Their love of Star Wars went through the roof after experiencing a new story on the big screen in Dolby surround sound, a far cry from the cabled metal speaker boxes that hung on posts at the Moon-Glow. I still get nostalgic for listening to a movie being played through your car stereo, but there is nothing like theater speakers to immerse you in the universe you are seeing onscreen. With the new movie came new toys and pajamas and within a few months my boys began recreating the scenes of my childhood with their own toys and friends and imaginations. Of course I taught them how to open grocery store doors with the power of the force by extending their hands, and instead of sticks they had actually extending, glowing, lightsabers, complete with sound effects, not to mention a real Darth Vader helmet with a voice box that could make a four year old sound like James Earl Jones. By this time DVD had replaced VHS and over time we rebuilt our Star Wars movie collection, enabling us to relive those films over and over in our home. Within a few years Episode II was released and then the climax, or so we thought, of the story was released. By this time going to see the new Star Wars movie together had become “a thing.” When Episode III was released we drove an hour to Franklin, Tennessee to the the Carmike Thoroughbred 20 theater behind the Cool Springs Mall, for the midnight showing of Revenge of the Sith. Six years after carrying them in my arms into the Malco Majestic we waded through the sea of humanity that filled the parking lot and theater lobby to catch the first viewing of the finale of the Star Wars story. At long last, I would witness how Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader. It was one my most joyful moments in life and fatherhood to get to see this movie like this with my now ten and seven year old boys. I thought it was over….but the best was yet to come.
Ten years later, my sons are now 20 and 18, and we are living in Florida, and we find out a new Star Wars trilogy will be released. As a child there were books and comics and rumors about George Lucas originally planning nine movies in this saga, but only three were made, and then as if willed into existence by the force of fans, a prequel trilogy became a reality, but no one expected more. News of the sequel trilogy instantly turned this 39 year old man, with two grown sons, into a child again. We made a pact that we would not see these new movies without one another. In December of 2015 the three of us walked into the Regal Cinema on Highway 90 in Lake City, wearing the brand new Star Wars shirts my wife had gotten each of us for Christmas. She knows I’m a nerd, and tells me that often, but she loves me and plays along and doesn’t judge me for my arrested development. I was thrilled to once again be watching a new Star Wars movie, but knocking on 40, I was more humbled by the blessing of getting to share this my sons once again. We watched it, loved it, debated it, dissected it, and left with a vow that no matter what, we would not watch the final two movies for the first time without one another. That vow proved to be hard to keep two years later, when we were living in three different states and unable to be together until Christmas. This time Episode VIII would be released ten days before Christmas, which meant we would have to wait nearly two weeks to be able to see the movie together. Two weeks of trying to avoid spoilers, knowing that we could drive a few miles and pay a few dollars and be immersed in the universe we love so much, which for three people accustomed to being there on opening night, even it it meant a midnight showing, those ten days seemed longer than the ten year wait between Episode III and Episode VII. Somehow we remained loyal to our vow and on Christmas night, with my parents, wife, cousin, and sons, I watched another Star Wars for the first time.
And now we end up where we began. Jade and I are sitting in our living room in Florida. One son is in Tennessee and another in Alabama, and I am trying to figure out when and how we can make the schedules work for us to see this last one together. I don’t know why this was so important to me, maybe it shouldn’t have been. We’d been blessed to experience this together five times already over the span of 20 years, so perhaps I should have just been grateful for what I had. Regardless, I wanted this so much, and as I tried to begin explaining to Jade why it meant so much to me that we be able to watch this together, the tears came. I’m thankful to say that on Christmas Day, my boys and I walked into the Shady Brook Theater in Columbia, Tennessee to watch the Episode IX, the final story in the original Star Wars saga, together. It was the culmination of forty years of my life. What began on a paint can at the Moon Glow Drive-In in Pulaski with my memaw, was coming to a conclusion with my boys. It was the only thing I really wanted for Christmas this year.
I spent a good portion of the movie fighting back tears, and a few moments openly crying. If you’ve seen the movie and know our family, you can likely connect the dots in the plot line that hit very close to home in our home. The Skywalker story was unfolding on the big screen, but the Britton story was playing in my mind. I thought back to those babies crawling in my lap with their action figures and watching the original movies on VHS with me. I thought of those little boys I carried into the theater for the first time to initiate them into this fraternity of films. I relived moments of darkness when all hope seemed lost and I thought of the grown men who walked in with me, that I would be experiencing this first viewing with for the last time.
Maybe it shouldn’t mean so much to me. Maybe it’s silly, and maybe I’m a grown man who is acting like a child, but so help me, it was one of the happiest days of my life. The little boy sitting on the paint can, with eyes full of wonder, had no way of knowing that he would have his own battles to fight. He would come to learn that although the force isn’t real, the dark side is, and it is always seeking to spread and take away hope. More important, he would come to learn that love, loyalty, family and friendship will always prevail in the end. Looking back I know how we’ve made it. To quote Lando Calrissian, “We had each other.”
