Cooo ... perrr ... coooo ... perrrr ...

When I was nine, we borrowed three VHS tapes from my aunt and uncle. These were movies I'd heard about but never actually seen. The first movie's cover depicted some dude in a black mask, some spaceships superimposed below the metallic grill of his mouth. It seemed intriguing enough.

I honestly don't remember my feelings when those blue words appeared on the black for the first time:

"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far way ..."

However, when that movie was done, my brother and I lay in our room, some more potent and lasting than sugarplums dancing in our heads. We discussed the things we had seen. One of us — I like to take the credit — came up with the crazy notion that the bad guy might actually be the good guy's father. We were hooked. That's when it all began.

Today, I have a cabinet back home for all my miscellaneous Star Wars crap: I have a hundred-dollar lightsaber (found it in a pawn shop on my mission and dragged it through several transfers), a life-size cardboard standup of Darth Vader (it was quite a hit in my last apartment), and several shelves of stuff no human being should ever need (I'm serious — want to see my limited-edition Revenge of the Sith cereal box?). Fortunately, I lost some of the knowedge that lurks within the abyssal chasm in my mind that is my repository of Star Wars knowledge. Want to know the backstory on any character seen in the background of any of the movies? Once, I could probably tell you.

Who doesn't love those first three movies? Who hasn't harbored a plutonic love for Han Solo's roguish grin, or for Luke's boyish charm? What sounds have integrated themselves more in our culture than the manacing, regulated hiss of Darth Vader's breathing or Chewbacca's howl? And who can forget that thrill as those two proton torpedoes slid like twin comets into the thermal exhaust port of the Death Star, or the engaging hatred that came as the Emperor unleashed lightning from his fingertips?

When the new movies came out, I was thrilled. My nerdiness could be perpetuated! As some negative reviews mixed in with the good ones, I was puzzled. Did the average moviegoer have some missing brain cells? Had their cerebral functions been removed and deposited inside a B'omarr brain spider, never again to offer the voice of reason? Couldn't these people see how cool these movies were?

Let me get one thing straight, however. I loathe Jar Jar Binks. Loathing, unadulterated loathing, for his hair, his voice, his clothing. The addition of such a foul creature was a mistake. And I'm not too fond of the love story between Anakin and Padme in the second one.

But otherwise — How cool is a Shakespearean descent to the dark side, the creation of the iconic fallen hero? How exciting is the rumbling of drums, followed by two starfighters that crest the serene edge of a Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer with the gallant Force theme ringing, only to drop into the hellish fire of the battle over Coruscant a moment later? How rewarding is it for fans to finally explore the mysterious conflict known as the Clone Wars after the cryptic mention of it by Leia Organa all those years ago?

The new ones are different than the old ones, but all of them fit into the magnificent saga that is Star Wars: a tale of victory and defeat, of evil and redemption, of love and hatred, of heroes and villains.

Our world is a place where darkness often triumphs over light and the line between good and evil is a no-man's land where even the best intentions can destroy. While the matters of the world should not be ignored, the healthy mind needs a diversion. Such a rejuvenating escape is found in the numberless worlds to explore, in the seductive hum of a lightsaber, and in the human relationships that mirror those in our own galaxy: father and son, husband and wife, brother and sister.

And so it is with relish that I invite others to take a step out of reality that is smaller than one might think and join me . . . for together we can rule the galaxy.