{ star wars memories }

It's 1981. I'm seven, and I'm in another fight with Brian, who lives across the street.

"It's my Darth Vader!"

"No, it's mine! Yours is the one without the cape!"

"It's mine!"

We're fighting over whose Darth Vader action figure was whose. There are five kids on the block who are all the same age, and we all, of course, have the same toys. Another day in the sandbox is over, and we're taking our toys home. Except for the Darth Vader.

After an hour of watching our bickering, the neighborhood moms settled on a novel solution: they use a hot nail to burn holes in the feet of all of our action figures. One hole for the Baers' toys, two for the Rakunas', three for the Oberreuters'. The fights stopped and we kept playing.

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