Luke, I am your father...

We went to see Star Wars Episode III last night. Opening night. Sure did.

I really loved Star Wars as a kid. I was pretty traumatized by the whole Jar Jar Binks thing, though. Episode III was certainly the best of the three "new" movies.

Movies have always been a big part of my life, but for the last few years I have seen tons of kid flicks and extremely few grown-up movies. I can rent 'em, I know, but don't get me started on that. Certainly you can enjoy a movie in the comfort of your own home, but you will never recreate the collective solitude of the theatre experience. If it is a movie worth seeing, its worth seeing right.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, Jackson and I discovered that we are real grown-ups and if we want to go see a movie on a school night, then by-God, we can! So we now have a weekly appointment (sans kid) with the local cinema.

It was a small crowd, although anything more than three is an above average mid-week crowd. There were a couple of families with their kids, but it was mostly people my parent's age. I found that odd. Where are all the people my age - the kids who grew up on this mythology? Didn't it become an ingrained part of their moral development? Didn't they accept that there is a connectivity to the entire universe and everything in it? Didn't they understand that your sixth grade English teach who used to complain because they didn't use any capital letters in the credits on Matlock was just an unwitting pawn of the dark side? Didn't their dad's preach sermons about the theology of Star Wars when they were kids? Or was that just me?

Oh, well. The movie was good. Not great, but good. Good enough that when we left, in the dark, and I shifted the truck into gear and pulled out on the highway, I could pretend that it was my own X-wing fighter.

And I flew it all the way home.