‘Star Wars’ inspires life mantra

I vividly remember standing in my sunlit kitchen one morning when I was six years old and listening to my parents talk about “Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace.”  I was barely old enough to distinguish Star Wars from Star Trek, and I don’t remember specifics of the conversation other than something about trade embargoes.

“Episode II: Attack of the Clones” hit theaters when I was in third grade.  By then I was old enough not only to sit through a two and a half hour movie, but to understand it… and subsequently become obsessed with it. Thus began a childhood of Queen Amidala dolls, a lunch box full of action figures and Halloweens dressed as a Jedi and Jango Fett. I spent plenty of recesses pantomiming light saber battles with the boys.

When I got braces and my mouth hurt too much to even eat off a spoon, I channeled my frustrations into hours of “Star Wars: Battlefront” on PS2, don’t even get me started on the masterpiece that was “Star Wars: Bounty Hunter.” By the time “Episode III: Revenge of the Sith” opened, I was a fully realized Star Wars fan. However, if you asked me under oath which movies of the saga I watched the most, I’d have to confess: I’ve watched episodes I and II more than any others. When I was a kid, I saw nothing wrong with this.

Years passed. This summer I discovered that one of my friends had never, in all his 20 years on Earth, seen a single Star Wars film. Despite the fact that I couldn’t quite remember the last time I’d watched one, I was astounded by the idea that someone hadn’t experienced the cinematic glory that had defined my formative years. A group of us organized a movie marathon to rectify the situation. It was decided we’d watch the six movies numerically to “get the worst out of the way.”

Secretly, I was thrilled to start with the movies that had introduced me to that galaxy far, far away.  But about halfway through Episode I, my head was tilted to the side as I wondered how I managed to sit though galactic senate meetings as a nine-years old.  My devastation was complete by Episode III’s cheesy-beyond-all-reason dialogue.  Suddenly all the critiques I’d heard and read made sense. Who is this Jar Jar Binks jerk? Get that Midichlorian talk out of here!

When I was a kid I loved those prequel movies. Now, that I’m older I see their woefully many flaws. This phenomenon holds for things as seemingly inconsequential as a set of movies to matters as serious as your relationships with family and friends. Since starting college, I’ve faced all three. It’s disenchanting to be confronted with a more realistic vision of something you’ve always held dear. Sometimes it’s difficult and even scary to think that you could be so wrong about things and people that are important to you. If only we could so easily brush off our disappointment with people and ourselves as we usually can with movies.

Nothing is perfect. And there are definitely times when it’s necessary to cut certain people and things out of your life. Yet other times, it’s worth it to hold on to a little bit of that childhood optimism and to love people in spite of their flaws. Knowing how to tell the difference is one of the most challenging parts of growing up, but it might be the most rewarding.

Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to talk about Star Wars. Either way, may the Force be with you.