I don't remember the date, but it was the summer of 1977. It was during the first release (before the moniker "Episode IV: A New Hope" was added). And I was five years old.

I don't remember being rabidly freakish about wanting to see Star Wars. But I do remember seeing it. My dad took my brothers and I. Later in life, I found out that my dad had a bit of a sci-fi fetish (other movies he took us to: Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Empire Strikes Back, and, umm, Beverly Hills Cop II) and sometimes spent late nights in the early 70s watching Star Trek in re-runs. I don't know if seeing Star Wars was his idea or my older brother's (who was the only one of us inflicted with the society of school at the time), but it didn't matter.

We saw it in a kind of theater they don't make anymore. A huge one screen palace called the Grenada in Lawrence, Kansas. I also saw Ghostbusters there, but that was many years later. The Grenada now shows all-ages punk shows among other things, but it doesn't show movies. It's not profitable to show movies on just one big screen anymore.

Star Wars was the first real movie I ever saw. By real, I mean non-animated or Disney-created. Sure I saw those kid adventure films where all the adults are stupid and the kids save the day (Apple Dumpling Gang anyone?), but here was something completely different.

A different time. A different look. A different universe. I would never look at life the same afterwards. There have been precious few world-view transforming events in my life, and Star Wars was one of them.

I wanted to be Luke Skywalker. He was the hero. And in the first movie, it seemed like he would get the girl. That's what I wanted to be when I grew up: the hero who got the girl.

I found the girl in Kindergarten during the fall after Star Wars. She had long dark brown hair, a beautiful face and huge eyes. Thinking back now, I wonder if there wasn't something Carrie Fisher about her looks that triggered the weak knees. This never occurred to me back then, though.

It took me about a month to figure out her name, but soon after, we became friends. A boy and a girl who are friends in Kindergarten are going out. And we found this out pretty quickly. It didn't matter too much, I guess. I didn't need to call her "girlfriend," and I don't think she would've called me boyfriend. And that whole "sitting in a tree" song was more of a tease than reality.

We lived a few blocks apart, so it wasn't hard to meet up with her. My parents, her parents and my Kindergarten teacher were friends as well, so there was always this subtle encouragement to be together. Sometimes this bugged me because I didn't want my mom messing with my love life (even back then). But there was no helping it, because I was in love. Twice in one year, that ain't bad.

When the Star Wars Christmas Special aired, my family and her family watched it at our house. Afterwards, we played Star Wars upstairs in the "orange carpet" room. The garish carpet gave the place an alien look--even in the late 70s. I was Luke. She was Leia. My older brother was Han Solo and my little brother was Chewie. Her younger siblings had to go home (it was after 8!).

I can't remember what scene we were actually playing out, but she and I were looking at each other close and suddenly my older brother smashed our heads together. My first kiss and it hurt. But that's always the way with love, isn't it.

Star Wars was the one thing everyone I knew had in common. We all had figures (some more than others), knew the lines and were irrevocably warped by the visions the movie (and its sequels) put forth into our brains. Subtly, I think it urged a sense of rebellion and innocent heroism into an entire generation. We were told it was okay to question authority (the Empire), if the cause was good. I never could figure out what to do with my life, but I knew what I couldn't do: give in to the dark side. I didn't realize struggling with the dark side would become a lifetime occupation.

With all the hype and toys and advance tickets, I think a lot of people are missing what entranced us kids way back when: The totally wonderful other-worldliness of the movie. The concept that a small band of doo-gooders (who are rebellious!) can overcome the worst odds. And, y'know, the light-sabers, tie-fighters, X-Wings, light-speed, Jawas and Princess Leia's hair.

So I'm not planning on eating at Taco Bell or Pizza Hut or KFC. I don't think I'll buy any figures or inflatable chairs or phone cards. And I probably won't get a t-shirt either. But I've got tickets to a 9:20 showing Wednesday night, and I'm gonna try to be as naive and wide-eyed as I was way back in 1977.

Matt Worley ended up more like Han Solo than Luke, but he still tries to use The Force to move stuff with his mind from time to time.