Last fall Rachel and I went to Disneyland. A client had booked us to shoot a Super 8 film in Portland, and on a whim decided to take a cheap flight to LA after. Upon landing we took a Lyft right to Disneyland, tossed our bags into a couple of lockers, and headed inside.
Before I go on, its important for you to understand how much Star Wars means to me. I’m only just starting to understand it, and don’t expect to ever really be able to explain it. All the geek culture, toys, and merchandise is all well and good. A fun, but ultimately shallow and empty thing. Thats not Star Wars for me.
For me its the pain of a relationship with my father. Its the reality of that relationship vs what I wish it was. My earliest, and fondest childhood memories are of the many movies and books he eagerly shared with my brothers and I. The man he wanted to be was somewhere in those stories, I know it now, and was learning it then. The hero willing to go into the unknown, to rise to the calling, and defeat the evil that seemed overwhelming. These movies were his way of showing us that, of trying to find a way to explain the complicated man he was. The good, the bad, and all the in-between. The man he often became was also in those films. Dark figures, full of fear, anger, and sometimes hate. In some way, and regardless of his awareness, he was preparing us for the pain he would cause.
“Star Wars is forgiveness”
I had been to the park just once before, last year for a half day. This time was different, Galaxies Edge was newly open, and our first stop. I walked quickly, Rachel and I grinning at all the happy people around us, the music and feeling that only disneyland can create. We neared the entrance, where they had made frontier land flow seamlessly into Batuu. The sounds changed. The music changed. As I slowed my pace, egger to take it in, it hit me. I knew it was going to be amazing, I wasn’t prepared for this. All at once I felt a kid again, when magic was still real. Rachel filmed me, as I struggled to hold it together. Had it not been for the kids and parents around, I probably would have started openly crying. It was just a wonderfully overwhelming feeling, and not something that comes often as an adult. We continued up, until she came into view. The fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy, The Millennium Falcon. I just stood there, stupefied. It was real.
As a kid, the lines between things are all blurred. Kids don’t have categories of importance. We haven’t been told, this matters, this doesn’t. We just like things, or we don’t. Movies and real life, there isn’t much difference as a kid. I was the son of a preacher, we spent every Sunday morning, Sunday evening, Wednesday evening, and countless other days in church. It was the nightly discussion around the dinner table, and the prayers before bed. We quite literally ate, drank, and slept the bible. It was almost too normal. A constant that lacked all the flash and spectacle of the movies, but my Dad was a storyteller, and never missed an opportunity to link these things in our minds. You didn’t just passively watch or read something. You discussed it, its meaning, its metaphor, nothing was simple, or purely for entertainment. Faith wasn’t a dead thing in old books for weird dogmatic old people. It was a story being written every day by artists and creators, calling us all to adventure.
“Star Wars is belief”
Over the next few days, we ran around the park, enjoying every ride, every moment, and the company that only your best friend can give you. We had both felt it off and on over the past few years, but it was impossible to avoid in a place like this. The looks on their faces, the wonder in their eyes. Everywhere we looked we felt it. The last trip to the Falcon (of about a million) we got teamed up with a Dad, his little girl, and a friend helping him out. It was their first time, and they didn’t really know what to expect from the ride. We boarded the cockpit, and the little girl started to panic. The dad was so kind, trying to calm her down. One of the cast members came over and gently talked to her, asking her if she had ever been on Star Tours. She answered “yes” faintly. The cast member told her is was just like that, but easier! Rachel also just reminded me, the cast member then asked if she remembered the golden man, C3-PO, she said “yeah” again, still softly, but just a bit more sure, and the cast member reminded her he was also scared, but did things anyway. That seemed to do it. She got seated and started to go from frightened to excited. Rachel and I were piloting, and did our best to make it as fun as possible, and not crash too much. Every little bump and explosion was magnified by her reactions. It was perfect. She was having more life in a 4 minute ride than many of us get in a year. As we disembarked (had to) I remember looking at Rachel, and just knowing. Even with the two of us, it was starting to feel a little lonely. This was a far cry from a actual plan, let alone intent, still, something had changed.
I’ve written it down a few times, it doesn’t get easier. Each time I remember other moments, feelings. They break my heart in new ways each time. I have pictures and video on my phone I’m afraid to watch or look at. A entry I wrote around that blur of days:
“A few weeks ago we stood together in the bathroom, and watched a timer count down, before seeing two lines that changed our life. In that moment I’d never felt more Joy, Terror, and Love. I was going to be a Father. That idea filled my soul, and in that moment whatever had been, and what was to be, was etched into my heart. Everything was different, and everything else seemed so small. I’ll remember those days forever, the dreams, the excitement. Telling a handful of people, because we couldn’t keep it in. We loved this person we couldn’t wait to meet.
A couple weeks later, holding each other in the doctor’s office, broke us.”
“Star Wars is loss”
We are still here, this May the 4th. Each day we get up, tell each other our dreams, and speak unknown potential into our future. We are all one Star Wars movie, and a baby Yoda richer, and given the state of everything else, I have no shame in taking joy in these small things.
I don’t know what comes next, but each day I’m endeavoring to make my small world a little better, help those around me, and fight the darkness. Its a matter of taking the next chance, and the one after that. We have each other, and that is enough.
Tomorrow is another day to Rise in the Force.