It's 1977. I'm three years old, and my family has moved out of the city and into the suburbs. Me and the neighborhood kids are in our pajamas; we're all piled into the back of Dad's giant yellow Ford truck. The sun is setting as we pull into the drive-in on Beach; Brian's mom has given us a giant bag of popcorn from Fedco.

I remember curling under blankets as the sky finally grew dark. I remember Mom and Dad monkeying with the speakers in the car. And I remember that thundering music as the main titles flashed and the sound of blasters as Princess Leia's ship was captured by Darth Vader.

We all fell asleep somewhere after Luke left Tatooine. Mom carried me to bed, which had Star Wars sheets, naturally.