Jarrett's Neglected Blog

[Rogue One spoilers within]

The loss of Carrie Fisher today is hitting me very hard, and I feel almost guilty for that, because my story is not that of many of the other Star Wars fans.

I didn’t really “grow up” with the films. I’m just young enough that the original trilogy had been fully released by the time I was born, so I didn’t get to see them in the theaters or anticipate them. And while I *did* see them as a kid, I didn’t watch them voraciously like others did. I probably saw A New Hope more than once, at least, and I know I saw the rest, and they were well-cemented in my memory. But I had no toys. No clothes. No merch of any sort. I didn’t identify with the films. They weren’t a major component of my childhood. They were just films I had seen and enjoyed, and that were standard parts of pop culture. Honestly, I probably knew nearly as much about Star Trek at the time, which I had never watched as a kid. I simply absorbed pop culture knowledge.

It wasn’t until adulthood that I made an effort to do more. I rewatched them on VHS at a friend’s house when I was 18, and then maybe 6 years ago in their “special edition” (shudder) forms, at which point I finally also choked down Episodes I and II before, oddly, calling it quits right before the good prequel film.

So no, I’m not a person who can call himself a dedicated, or lifelong fan by any traditional sense.

But last year a lot changed. After my kids moved in with me full-time, and a couple years of hype over Disney’s new ownership of the franchise, and with Episode VII’s trailers filling me with a sense of joy I couldn’t fully compute, I got to show the films to my kids for the first time (sort of; each recognized elements they had already seen, but missing context), and experience them anew (and completely fresh in the case of Episode III) both through their eyes and with maturity and nostalgia combining to color what they meant to me. And they very suddenly turned personal. Very personal. They started to become a part of me in a way I didn’t expect up until that point, and the characters mattered in ways they had never fully clicked before then. My kids picked up connections and loves too, and it was fascinating to see how the prequels impacted them differently (they both begged to stop watching Episode I, but both grew deep attachments to Anakin’s story by the end of Episode III).

It was with that sense of new connection that I watched Episode VII on opening night at the Chinese Theatre and felt a pure sense of unbridled joy. Like that film had been made for me. Like somehow a lifetime of missed connections with the franchise had filled in magically, and I was a true Star Wars fan. And the return of all the people I now loved, a little older, a little sadder, meant everything. And even my kids got it too, despite all of the films having been compressed into weeks leading up to it instead of decades.

[Spoiler Paragraph] I saw Rogue One on Christmas day with my family just a few days ago. The story behind the original story’s beginning was deeply powerful to me at this point, and the sacrifices made to explain something that seemed so trivial in the original film that’s been with me since my son’s current age filled me with awe. And while I was crying already when those ultimate sacrifices reached their inevitable conclusion, the final new shot of a young Princess Leia, seen after the older but still tough-as-nails General Leia only a year earlier in Episode VII (and nights before in our re-watch), and knowing full well the actress who brought her so perfectly to life for all those years was lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life, completely broke me.[/Spoiler Paragraph]

I was too young when I first saw Star Wars to find Leia sexy as many apparently did, no thanks to the slave outfit. I didn’t even see her as young then because adults were old. And by the time I saw it with true appreciation of the film, she was just a young woman, and so many other efforts had been made to carry on the torch of strong women in film, so that aspect of her personality wasn’t fresh and new to me. But she was such a deeply specific strong young woman; one unlike anyone else, even now. She was incomparable anyway. And without ever realizing, she seeped into my consciousness as someone who was a part of my life. The entire cast did, surely. But right now, clear as day, with the loss of the woman who truly created her as we know and love her, she meant so much more than I had any comprehension.

Every photo I see of her right now as that young princess-turned-general fills me with joy and pain. They’re all simply perfect in their own ways. Innocent and young and historical and yet so strong and iconic and timeless and current. And it’s stunning to me that through this amazing medium we have of film, and the incomparable phenomenon that is Star Wars, that she is, in some not-insignificant way, just about as immortal as a person can be.

I’m sorry we didn’t get more of her. For all the ways Star Wars was overextended, and the prequels failed us, and good arguments can be made for how it should have been left as it was, now I can say that every moment we have of Leia as Carrie Fisher invented her on screen will never be enough to accurately encompass how much she filled our heads.

So no, I didn’t have everyone else’s Star Wars story, and no, I don’t feel like I have the right to lay claim to it and its characters the way so many others do. But right now Star Wars is deeply, deeply personal to me, and this loss hurts so much more than I thought it could.

Hey, See's Candies, we need to talk:

I know you think it's cute and fun for people to be "surprised" by what's in the chocolate they pick up out of your box. And maybe, at one time, that was the case for enough people that it was worth holding onto it. But now it's nearly 2017. You know, full well, how many people have major, major problems with various foods. Ignoring people with nut allergies, who one has to assume are avoiding your entire line due to cross contamination, there are so many limitations people have with foods that outright ruin the entire experience. The risk of biting into a coconut or walnut really makes me nervous to even bother. For some people that's coffee, or other common flavors. At a certain point I'd rather just skip the effort altogether, and I CERTAINLY won't bother to buy a box that I know will not only be partially wasted, but fill me with dread more than wonder with each bite I try.

So maybe, just maybe, you could follow down the path of your competitors and start including a chart in your box so people like me don't avoid your brand altogether in fear anymore?

When we jump to Queens to see Peter Parker for the first time, the opening music is Left Hand Free by Alt-J.

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