whispers of melancholy

We all have regrets. I know I regret a great many things in my life. In a fantastic picture, I wish I could say I regret loosing everything on a game of blackjack. Regret the gambling obsession that forced me into a career as an adult film star so I could pay off my casino debts. And with that, the dirty and sticky recession of my soul that caused me to become a heroin addict. Remorse of owning nothing, and the allure to score another fix. Grief as I stepped into a life of crime, mugging the innocent to score moolah. Filthy green to buy packets of powder and pills. But that would all be lies and exaggerations. Nancy Reagan taught me not to do drugs. Went to Vegas for the first time when I was 35. Don't even own an adult movie. My life is simple and boring.

Like Frodo’s Ring, one regret rules them all – not following my dreams when I should have. My childhood fell victim to peer pressure. Succumbed to the false ambition of academic excellence. See, I thought the way to be accepted by my friends and the world around me was to be someone that owned a fancy diploma matted into a piano-black frame. In a lazy attempt to achieve it, I sacrificed all that was important - my art. And in my race to be accepted, I inadvertently overlooked my one true talent.

I miss the days when I sat in my grandmother’s floor tracing Kid-Flash out of New Teen Titans #28; sitting at the old IBM typewriter in my mother’s bedroom to rattle out a new G.I. Joe adventure; doodling on graph paper to architect new designs of Veritech Fighters; dragging myself out of bed at 5:30 AM so I could photograph colorful hot air balloons.

Now whispers of melancholy dance in the recesses of my mind. Somehow I try and convince myself I can go back. Transport myself back to the past – Roswell, 1985. Tell myself to listen to my 7th grade art teacher who spoke of my raw talent and begged for me to never set down the brush. Ignore the worries of impressing friends because I’d rather study the heroics of Superman than mitochondria. I know it's not too late but life isn't slowing down for me to catch up. So now I make every effort to motivate my daughter to follow her dreams. Do what her heart tells her to do. Ideology that is motivated on the eve of Bree choosing a new school – a new school engrossed in art and theatre. I envy her as she will soon have friends that cherish her artistic talents and support her creative endeavors instead of lure her away.

When Roswell was: "Roswell where?"

I remember when Roswell was just some tiny town no one knew existed. If you weren't a native of New Mexico, you had no clue where Roswell was. There was a time when you could travel across the United States and if someone asked,"whereya from?" We'd quickly reply, "Roswell." And instinctively the next line of dialog was, "oh yeah, Georgia is hot and muggy this time of year." And we'd have to clarify, "no, not that Roswell. Roswell New Mexico." "Roswell where?" Yes, there was a time that no one new the home town of the old Walker Air Force Base. Although when I was young, the base had been closed for many, many years. Even lived on the base once in the 1970's as the old military housing turned to affordable rental properties. I don't remember much from that old apartment. But I do remember it was cold. The floor was a black hard tile. The walls were cinder block. If you weren't wearing socks, the frigid floor bit at your toes. It was simply, "Roswell where?". Then, it changed. Suddenly in 1993 it was printed on maps again. A show, X-Files, somehow made the boring town of Roswell a celebrity. Now everyone knew Roswell. It wasn't "Roswell where?" It was "Roswell where the aliens crashed?" Old copies of the 1947 paper were now on t-shirts and posters. I will say, I was happy to have lived in "Roswell where?" than "Roswell where the aliens crashed?" See, from the time of being a very small child all the way through high school, you could drive down main street, past the St. Mary's Hospital, past by the Denny's at 2nd St, past the Taco Villa, past the Skeen's Furniture and past NMMI (New Mexico Military Institute) and it was just a normal little town. Not any more. Now, there's two alien museums. Green aliens painted on store front windows. Read-a-boards proclaiming "Aliens eat at Arby's" and "Aliens stay the night at Day's Inn." There are stores that sell little alien dolls. Nick Knacks and Bobbles. Heck, I once saw a picture of the McDonald's we cruised in high school has a flying saucer play area. There's parades that make a Trekker blush. And festivals. What happened to "Roswell where?" Roswell of 1982 was my Roswell. But the Roswell of 2009 is too "alienated" for me nowadays. Good thing I have my memories I suppose...

K-Bob's Steakhouse

When I was a child, the Sunday treat was lunch at the K-Bob's Steakhouse. As far back as I can remember, my mother and I would travel to the K-Bob's after church. I remember it was at Poe and Main. It would later move to a location near the ALCO store on Hobbs St. If memory serves, a second location was up north near the mall. I think that north location would later become the Mason Jar. Long before Cattle Baron's and The Outback, there was K-Bob's. It was the true fine steakhouse in Roswell. The steaks were always medium rare and always tasty. But the true treat was the chuck wagon salad bar! Like its name, it was a chuck wagon turned salad bar. The plates were at the end inside a mini refrigerator so your plate was always chilled. K-bob's was the very first place I knew that had a "salad bar". Not only could you get a nice tossed salad with cheese, black olives, ranch dressing and croutons, but a zangy potato and/or sweet macaroni salad. Being only a child, I would try not to fill up on the salad bar as the steak, baked potato and fried okra were always quickly served. We never ordered dessert as there was fruit salad and pudding at the salad bar. The atmosphere was that of an old western steakhouse. There were wagon wheel chandeliers and horseshoes hanging on the walls. I remember the original location to be dark and aged. The newer locations more modern and bright. I'm not sure when we stopped going to K-Bob's and chose to go someplace else yet I do recall enjoying it. It's strange how I started thinking about K-Bob's after all these years. Well, the reason was, my wife and I happen to eat in one in Canon City Colorado. Yep, they're still around. And the funny thing was, I felt just like that little boy, reaching for the bread pudding back in the 1980s in Roswell. To be honest, it was the chuck wagon salad bar that brought the memories back...

Technology: Apple IIc

The first computer that I ever wanted was the Apple IIc - with its snow white case and small monitor. Growing up in Roswell in 1984, the biggest thing to hit Valley View Elementary was the new Apple II compact. It's snow white case and Not only was it as cool as the Apple IIe but it was tiny in comparison. It was a sign of the times that we were able to build computers smaller than ever before. I would purposely stay in the class room at lunch so I could play on the IIc. There was trivia games and simple games like hangman. Some games would run off a 5 ½ floppy drive. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I remember asking my mother if we could buy one. She was all for it until she called the Sears and discovered the price of $1300. To us, that was the cost of a car. It was food for a year. It was a life time of clothes and books. The closest I would come to owning a IIc was the one sitting in my 6th grade classroom. The world of computers at that moment was the coolest thing to my 12 year old eyes. I asked my mother for a subscription to Computer magazine. I would design smaller computers on my lined notebook paper. Sometimes I would move those designs to graph paper and make them look real technical and realistic. Later, I would take a computer programming class in the 7th grade. We worked on the Apple IIe’s -- spent an entire semester logging and writing code to a graphic that would run only 20 seconds. I remember plotting the color and pixel locations on graph paper and translating them into code. My graphic was a Japanese Zero dropping a bomb on the USS Arizona followed by a U.S. Flag honoring the sailors who died aboard. I think I got an B+. I would later envy a friend when his Dad brought home the brand new IBM PC in the late 80s or early 90s. Yet, I still wanted my own Apple IIc. I think I’ve said it before. Even though it was primitive to today’s machines, it still has a magic to it. Perhaps because it was my first true appreciation of a computer and realizing that they are getting more complex and more sophisticated. I have even gone to ebay looking for a functioning IIc. I know they exist. I visited a school back in the late 1990s and the classrooms still had functioning Apple IIe’s and IIc’s. I was amazed. I should have grabbed one and ran away with it. Those computers would later disappear with the new iMacs. Yes, I look at the IIc’s 2 Mhz processor, 1MB RAM and no hard drive, but wish I had one right now. I would sit in the dark classroom and type my answers, watching the green letters and cursor floating across the monitor – flashing bright. The mini laptop I write this entry on is less than half the size of the IIc and has a memory of 1 GB of RAM and 1.66 Ghz processor and a hard drive of 160 GB. Operating at over 1000 times the power of that IIc, the little Acer is strangely not as cool as that Apple IIc was back then. (not to say I don’t love my tiny Acer.)

Technology: Pre-VCR

The first show I ever recorded was 1983's G.I. Joe: The Real American Hero mini-series. Later I would record the Transformers mini-series as well. It took 3 tapes to get all five episodes. I remember racing home every week day from Vally View. After letting myself into our apartment at Valle Encantada, I would grab a fresh tape from my bedroom. Making sure the tape was completely rewound, I loaded it into the recorder. I would hit the record button along with the pause button and wait for the show to start. I flipped the channel on the TV to Channel 13 -- KCOP. The credits would be rolling on the previous show. I don't recall if it was the Jetsons or the Flintstones. I would call my mother and tell her to let herself into the apartment quietly as I was recording G.I. Joe. My mother would always be considerate and do that very thing. To insure the best recording I would have to balance the recorder near the large speaker on the front of our 1977 Zenith television. With a kitchen chair pushed up to the TV stand and the recorder balancing on its end right in front of the speaker, I would wait. Finally, the announcer would foretell that G.I. Joe was starting next. Clicking the pause button, the recorder would begin recording. Then for the next 30 minutes I would wait and make as little noise as possible. I remember replaying those tapes over and over. I knew those shows backwards and forwards. The shows were all perfectly played in my mind and imagination. Yet the audio was exact in every detail on magnetic tape. I would sit on my bed and play them over and over. I would even play them while I took baths and ate my dinners. Each and every show, along with all commercials, perfectly archived on the best Memorex tapes...or was it Maxell. Each tape was only 60 minutes so I had one episode on each side. Although, primitive, I loved it. The magic behind it was stupidly simple. Pre-VCR. Recorded on audio tape with my single cassette recorder that was the size of a lunch box. We didn't have the money for the Sony Beta machines or the new VHS recorders. Those were over $500 back in 1983. Yet this way, I could own a small piece of G.I. Joe or Transformers. The only thing I regret is not keeping the tapes. It would be a time machine to go back and listen to them with commercials of the day. The remastered DVDs that I have today, still remind me of watching those shows from back then but being able to hear those mono recordings would be the true treasure...

4th Grade: The Lunch Ticket

My daughter is in the 4th grade (soon to be the fifth grade) and we buy the hot meal plan from the school. So she gets this little debit card and she swipes it to receive a lunch in the lunch room. If she can’t swipe the card, she has the 8 digit number memorized (ie her student number) so she can enter it via a key pad. The computer monitors her balance and when she gets below a certain dollar amount and letter is generated to notify parents that she only has x dollars left in her account and we send in a check to recharge her fund.

Now, this got me to remembering how we bought our lunches when I was in the 4th grade. I will say it wasn’t with fancy debit cards and bank accounts. At Valley View Elementary School, we had to bring good ol’ coin. Yep. Two quarters. And I think it later became 75 cents. If you wanted milk without a lunch that was 10 cents (later it would be 25). Now we didn’t pay at the cafeteria. During the early morning roll call, the teacher would ask for any lunch buyers. She would collect our 50 (or 75) cents and hand us a little red ticket. The little red ticket. One would trade one lunch ticket for one lunch. It was the prized Lunch Ticket.

Ms. Anderson sits at her desk at the back of the room. She calls out to the class, who wants lunch tickets. Collecting quarters and making change from crisp $1 dollar bills. The big manila folder fills with clanging and jingling change. Some pay in dimes and nickels. She sets the big roll of lunch tickets on her desk. Bright red tickets sharply torn from a long strip of tickets. Tiny numbers printed on the sides, and the words One Ticket printed boldly in the center. The lunch bell rings. We race to the cafeteria (cafeteria at lunch, gym all the other times). At the front of the lunch line, a big wooden box sat, with a little slot. Dropping our tickets in the box, we grab a napkin and fork. The lunch lady fills our trays with the Spaghetti, peanut butter bars, roll and green beans.

Some kids had the issue of loosing the Lunch Ticket. If that was the case, you were out of luck unless you wanted to purchase another lunch ticket. There even were rumors of bullies taking Lunch Tickets from the weaker kids too. I can’t recall ever having my lunch ticket stolen from me but I know I did loose it from time to time. And when it happened you just suffered through. I never admitted to loosing it. I would make something up like I didn’t feel like eating that day or I was going to use the money to play a couple rounds of Karate Champ. But for a few seconds as you check your pockets, a small fear would arise if you didn’t find it right away.

Yes, there’s a more efficient way of doing today but there was something cool about buy that ticket and trading it for your lunch…(oh and we pay a $1.85 for my daughters lunch today, wish it was that 50 cents of yesteryear)...

Toys: Kenner’s Star Wars 12 Backs

Summer 1978. Star Wars opened on May 25, 1977. I remember seeing it but it most likely was not May 25th. It was summer. It was hot. I remember my mother loaded me up in the family car in my PJs and went to the Drive-in. She was seeing some guy. Not my dad but I don’t recall his name. I could ask but I don’t care. Its not like he stuck around. But we watched Star Wars on the big screen. I was 5 ½ years old. I don’t remember much about that first viewing but I do know I loved the opening sequence with the Stormtroopers blasting into the small Rebel ship and the firefight that followed. I remember the tall Dark Sith Lord demanding stolen plans. I think I fell asleep sometime around the Cantina scene. I don’t blame myself. I was 5 and at a Drive-in past 9 PM. I’m thinking it was August 1978.

Flash forward to Spring or Early summer 1978. My great aunt and uncle Viv and Wade were on their annual trip to New Mexico. I don’t know why or exactly when yet I have a strong visual of standing in the Kmart toy department eyeballing a plethora of Star Wars figures on the pegs. The cards had the pictures of the characters from the movie. Everyone was there. Luke, Leia, Darth Vader, Han and Chewie. My favorite was the Stormtrooper. That image of two troopers standing in a door and firing what looked to be a red/green blast right at you. I tugged my mother’s shirt and asked if I could have one. She said yeah. I then asked for two. She reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t much money. $1.98 a figure. My great uncle Wade walked over and I remember saying that he’d heard how popular Star Wars was. I wonder to this day if he had gone to see it. He asked how many different ones there were. The back of the card showed only 12 different figures. He asked if they had all 12. I said, I think so. He said, then grab yourself a set. That’s right. My uncle was offering to buy all 12 figures. I clearly remember him buying all 12 figures right there in the Kmart. We couldn’t get home fast enough. I opened them all. The rest of the day, the house was a whirlwind of blaster and light sword sounds. Not sure if I had even saw the entire movie by then. I was six.

With owning all 12 that day, I wished I had them still on the card. Or at least begged for a 2nd set. (the market for them in 90s skyrocketed) But I do know, that I had the holy grail of Star Wars figures, the vinyl caped Jawa. Yep, I had it. Loose of course. I also remember loosing its gun at a babysitter’s house. And it would eventually disappear later at that same babysitter’s house. I was mad and distraught over it. My mother tried to calm me and say it was okay. She promised we’d go to the store tomorrow and buy another one. I wiped the tears away and we went to ALCO to buy its replacement the next day. This might have been sometime late ‘78 or early 1979. When we got there, I was surprised to find this new Jawa had a cloth cape. Not a cape but a whole little robe and hood thingie. I flipped out. Even in my 6 year old mind I knew it was much cooler than those dumb old plastic capes or coats that Vader and Old Ben had. I cherished that new Jawa. I never lost its gun and I never lost it. It wasn’t until I was 24 or so that I wished I had the original one again. Knowing that even a verified and authentic loose one would go for around 800 bucks. Oh well…at six…I was happy I lost the first one…

Bikes: Silver Racing Huffy

In 1983, every 11- year old wanted a BMX racer bike. Race down streets. Go to the Pits. Speed down dirt pathways and up and over hills. Jump over ditches and tiny ravines. Pop wheelies and skid stops.

Intro: 1983 Silver Racing Huffy. Cool metallic silver frame. Bright fire engine red pads on the cross bar and handle bars. Mag wheels and trick sticks. Dirt tires. She was fast. She desired air jumps.

She was a Christmas present. The sharpest BMX-like bike I’d ever seen. I rode her to school, rode her to Craig’s house, rode her to the Tastee Freeze, to Daylight Donuts, rode her to Pits and rode her to Chewning’s.

This was the first time I had something that other kids actually envied me about. They begged to ride it. They begged to go down Dead Man’s Drop (at the Pits). I was selfish and mostly said no. I did let a few ride the Huffy behind the Park Twin Theater.

Peddling her as fast as I could. Zooming through the ALCO parking lot. Whipping in and out of parked cars. Hopping it up and over the curb to race down the huge side walk in front of the Plains Park Shopping Center.

Then the dark day happened. I was riding her home after an afternoon at Craig’s house. I remember the day as though it happened yesterday. I remember cruising down the fire lane of Roswell High School. I rode over Washington Ave and into the long parking lot of Columbia Manor Apartments. I turned the handle bars and round the end of the building and up onto the sidewalk. Zoomed into the patio of our apartment and popped the kickstand. I went into the sliding glass door and sat on the couch where my mother was watching TV. Probably some old western on KCAL. Not a few minutes from the time I sat down, the phone rang. It was a neighbor from 3 apartments down stating he saw a couple men walking my bike to their car. My mother told me to check my bike. I whipped the curtains back and she was gone. My Silver Racing Huffy was gone. We called the police. The good neighbor told them the make of car, license plate and description of the men. The police caught them. But there was no Silver Racing Huffy. She was gone. We searched the open fields and looked to see if they dumped it somewhere. Nothing. Never saw her again. One of the saddest days of my life. I still get pissed to this day. I dream of taking my Rawlings bat to the punks head.

I got a new bike right after that. My mother didn’t have to pay the entire amount. When friends and family heard how it got stolen right off our patio, they helped her buy me a another bike. But it wasn’t no Silver Racing Huffy. Her replacement was a Black and Gold Street Huffy. The mag wheels gone; replaced by spokes. She had a black frame and antique gold accents. I remember calling her the Wasp as her tires made this cool buzzing sound as I rode down side walks. It was just the tread on the tire but I imagined that she was a combat ready and mean like a wasp.

I loved the new bike too but I still would give a week of Sundays for the chance to had a childhood with only my Silver Racing Huffy…

Eats: Tastee Freeze

I can’t remember the last time I had a banana split but when I was a kid the best ones were from Tastee Freeze.

The Tastee Freeze was the bomb. Not sure if it still exists. It was across the street of the Columbia Manor Apartments. More or less it backed up to the apartment complex. It was one of the places I could easily walk or ride my Huffy to. There on South Main Street next to the Sherman Williams paint store.

Sunday afternoon. Watching KCOP. Rin Tin Tin and reruns of F Troop. My mother would ask if I wanted to run over to Tastee Freeze and grab a couple banana splits. She would give me the cash, check or even one time we were so broke we used a couple tubes of my rolled pennies from my penny collection to pay for them. That’s how much we loved those things. Actually, I think we borrowed from that penny collection on several occasions. My mother would always repay the rolls of pennies on payday.

A banana split from Tastee Freeze was huge! Using a full size banana cut down the middle. Chunky pineapple and strawberry sauce. Thick molasses-like chocolate syrup. Whipped cream. Sprinkle of pecan pieces. Cherry. The price was only $1.29 I think. (I know it couldn’t be much more than that as it took exactly 6 rolls of pennies, with change back, to pay for two.) I think I tried a Sonic banana split once and I was amazed I paid $2.99 for a tiny little cup with only half a banana.

Its these little simple things that make me want the 80s back. And Tastee Freeze wasn’t just about ice cream. They had a great chicken finger basket and savory French Fries that I still haven’t found a similar look or taste.

You wouldn’t believe how excited I was when one day driving down Colorado Blvd. here in Denver and I see the Tastee Freeze logo- the red and blue T/F logo. It was attached with a Hamburger Stand. I was later disappointed when it was nothing like that Tastee Freeze back home, 25 years ago….

3rd Grade: Latch Key Kid

Remember when you could allow your kids to walk home, let themselves in with the key attached to their belt and not get in trouble with Social Services?

I remember the first time I became a Latch Key Kid. Third Grade. Columbia Manor Apartments. Ms. Richardson's class. I think her name changed after she got married. I really need to find my grade school book with all my photos and notes.

My mother originally thought the best idea was to place the key around my neck. It was on a cheap silver chain. The chain survived until second recess, you know the one after lunch. I was swinging on the monkey bars. Running after soccer balls. Somehow the chain snapped. Key was missing. I was so worried and nervous. I asked Ms. Richardson if I could go look for it on the playground. I swore I was out there for hours combing the ground back and forth, like how search parties search for missing bodies. I never found it. The first day as a latch key kid and I lose the key. Kinda a big deal.

I had to call my mother. I lost the key. Its okay. I won't be able to get in. Don't worry about it; I'll get you. Will we have to change the locks? Someone may have the key to our house. Don't worry about, my mother said. I still think about the day I lost the key. That's the way I am. Thinking if I had done something different so my mother wouldn't be disappointed in me. If she was mad or upset, she never let me know it. I guess that's what makes my mother a better parent than I sometimes.

On day two of being a Latch Key Kid, my mother put the key on a key ring and I put it in my pocket. To this day, I never lost that key ring nor another key. I remained a Latch Key Kid for the rest of my days in school. If you ask my mother today she will say I was much older--5th grade at least--before I was a Latch Key Kid. I disagree as I know it was 3rd grade because Valley View's playgrounds were separated by 1-3rd grade and 4-6th grade and I was definitely on the 3rd grade side on the big set of monkey bars.

Back then it was something kids did. Today, it would be the sign of bad parents. Wow, how times have changed...

Video Games: Pitfall!

Summer 1983. Sitting in the floor of my bedroom, I pop the cartridge of Pitfall! into the Coleco Gemini. 8-bit graphics on a 13-inch B&W TV. The back of the Pitfall! box states that if you score more than 20,000 points you can send a photo in of your score and become part of the Pitfall Harry's explorer club. 20,000 points in under 20 minutes should be easy, right? Two hours later, the screen shows a score of 20,150. Pause. Game over. Grandma can I borrow your Polaroid? What ever for? I need to get a picture of my high score so I can get a Pitfall! T-shirt...no...a Pitfall! patch! So many vines. So many scorpions avoided. Do parents of 1983 know how hard it is to jump from crocodile to crocodile while avoiding them from snapping my legs off? Gold bar. Silver Bar. Platinum Bar. And bag of money. I always thought it odd that a bag of money lay in the jungle. Yet, Harry would swing and pick it up. Rolling logs. Jump. If you get hit, Harry is thrown to his knees and proceeds to make the sound of flatulence. Da da-da dum dummmmmm, as I fall into the disappearing and reappearing tar pit. It was the highest I ever scored. The first photo, the screen is blurry. Will ActiVision even know that's a 20,150 score? Better take another. The print slides out of the camera. Wait. Wait. Fan the picture. Fan. The print is dry yet the screen of the TV has a curvy line thing through the score. Third picture will be the charm. Sure enough. Its close enough. Mailed. I waited six to eight weeks. I gave it another six to eight weeks and nothing. I never got that t-shirt...or patch. Yes, I did break 20K in Pitfall! and I'm damn proud of it. I click the off button and that score fades to black.

Comic Books: Batman #307 January 1979

Sliding the book from the Mylar sleeve, I stare at the cover. The image still gives me goosebumps. I'm not frightened by it but it intrigues me. When I was little, I stared at this cover for hours it seemed. The woman with gold coins over her eyes. Batman struggling with a mysterious man with a red scarf over his face, eyes in shadow under a green fedora. The edges are worn. The pages yellowed slightly. The cover has a crease on the front cover where I would fold the book back to read it. The pages smell musty and aged. I flip through the pages and look at the panels. I haven't read this book in nearly 30 years. I can for a fact state this is my very first comic I ever read and ever owned. There are no comics that date farther back and I can clearly remember they day I got it.

Being the only child to a single parent that worked everyday to support us, I found myself in the hands of a babysitter on most Saturdays and after school. One such Saturday I was in the care of Kristen. She was a lanky teenager that would watch not only myself but my best friend Shawn. I was a well behaved child and could entertain myself easily with a Star Wars figure or a box of crayons and paper. Shawn on the other hand was a bit more rambunctious. I can remember on that day, Shawn was giving Kristen an extra dose of behavior. Jumping around and yelling things like never fear Mighty Mouse is here!. Kristen in an effort of giving something for Shawn to focus on decided to take us both to ALCO. She promised both of us that she would buy us something if we remained good for the rest of the day. In the toy department there was a rack of comic book packs. My eyes fixed on that cover of Batman fighting some unknown thug in a green coat and the lady with coins for eyes. I picked it up and held it in my hands. Kristen asked if that was something I would want. I said, yes. It was a pack of three comics. The entire pack was only 97 cents. A Whitman Value Pack. Yet, I would have to share it with Shawn. He got one issue; I took the other two--including the one with the mysterious lady with coin eyes. (the other issue was #306 and I would assume Shawn got #305 or #308. 30 years has purged it from my memory) I think we got some penny bubble gum that day too. I went back to Kristen's house and read both issues. I was re-reading them when my mother arrived to pick me up.

The book rests in my hands. I feel magic tingling in my finger tips as I know this comic is a piece of my history. It was the first of many more comics. I scan the pages. The ads were different then. Crosman airgun rifle by Coleman, a Superman The Movie contest where the actual cape was the grand prize, a Star Wars digital watch if you joined the youth Opportunity Sales Club and footlocker of 100 toy soldiers for only a $1.75! The classified ads are also a incredible flashback-- ads for X-ray spex!, Kids, build your own flying saucer! and Muscles Fast! Free book for only 25 cents!

I must really stop and re-read this book again soon. But for now, I slide it back into the Mylar sleeve. It still holds the place of the first comic in my collection...

Video Games: Kathy's Arcade

Before Playstation 3’s and Xboxes, the only way to play a video game was to get on your bikes and go to a place that had dozens of tall wooden cabinets that also housed a array of circuits, micro chip processors and electronic wiring. Back in 1981 or 1982, we would go to a small local business called Kathy’s Arcade. To remember Kathy’s Arcade is to remember a piece of 1980s culture and technology.

It was an average day. School was out and it was around 3:30 in the afternoon. C——— and I rode our bikes to his house and figured we just hang out and watch TV. A few months prior his family had purchased the new Atari 2600. Oh, I so envied that Atari 2600. So we started to play the 2600. He had all the classic games too: Breakout, Centipede, and Yar’s Revenge. Unfortunately, I would never get an Atari 2600. I would get the Coleco Gemini system-an Atari clone-for Christmas ‘82. I would enjoy it just as much as C——— did his 2600 but I was still the kid that did not have an Atari system but the knock off. I mother bought it from Sears and it came with the game Donkey Kong. My grandmother would even enjoy playing the DK.

Yet, even the 2600 failed at being ultra cool. The best video games were the big console games down at the arcades. Games like Karate Champ, Joust and Tron were just a few that had superior graphics and game play. The closet arcade was a place called Kathy’s Arcade.

It was that afternoon way back in 1982 that C——— and I desired to go to Kathy’s Arcade. Yet, we didn’t have any money. C——— insisted it was no problem. He knew of his parents emergency money fund. He disappeared to the back of the house and reappeared about five minutes later. With his return, he showed off the crisp $20 bill he now was shoving into his pocket. Now that we had come into a small fortune, we ran outside and hopped on our bikes and peddled toward Kathy’s

Kathy’s Arcade was a small stuffy business on the corner of Main and Poe, a few blocks away from C———’s house. Once inside, it was a utopia of beeps and bleeps, 8-bit synthesized music, and cigarette smoke and billiards tables. The front of the establishment was the home of 12 pool tables. In the center was a small bar and concession area. Next to the concession was the beloved token machine. The machine ate $1 and $5 bills and spit out small brass tokens. C——— pulled the $20 bill from his pocket and traded it for four $5 bills from Kathy. Exchanging the five dollar bills for 30 tokens—cling, cling, cling— it was off to the back half of Kathy’s Arcade. The back half was the area shrouded in darkness with over 20 arcade games. Flashing screens, the sounds of beeps and bings, the room was a casino for children yet there were no payouts—unless you count the hours of entertainment.

Kathy’s Arcade was owned and operated by a grouchy old lady named Kathy (who’d thunk, huh?) She was a lady that had a Marlboro face, heavy lines and wrinkles caused by decades of smoking. I don’t recall whatever happened to Kathy but I do know she ran her little arcade for several more years. I know we would go there in high school and rent a pool table by the hour. We’d play until midnight. A place to go on Friday nights when cruising was just too boring.

Although there are a few arcades around today, they are not the arcades of the 1980s. They aren’t the smoked filled holes in the wall. They don’t just have games with joysticks and fire buttons. Today, we live in a world of 1080p Playstation 3 games and first person shooters, life simulation and MMORPGs. Yet, when I think of an arcade, I think of Kathy’s Arcade—something the 1980s created and something the new millennium destroyed.

Flash Fiction: Pop Tarts and Coffee

Soft, platinum-blonde pony-tail swings from side to side. She walks like a ballerina. The ball of her foot first then her heel. Her name is Joni. We met at the mall candy store. I was digging in the Carmel Apple Jelly Bellys, she was reaching for the Pina Colada ones.
Behind us, a child holds his Power Ranger to the sky. He shouts "Mighty morphin time" at the top of his lungs. Hands sticky with the residue of licorice and jaw breakers, he makes fighting noises and karate moves. I look at the innocence and wish for a time long ago, a time when I was his age. Six Million Dollar Man, Star Wars, and GIJOE; heart and mind at play. I'm glad I don't have to shake the young man's hand.
I accept being an adult and all the privileges there of and all the pains as well. I look at Joni floating though the green chlorinated water of the apartments pool and wonder where we'll be in six months. I wonder what it would've been like to have known her as a little girl when I was a little boy. What would I think of her then? Now we're grown-ups. She walks over to the patio table. Pleated mini skirt, soft white swimsuit, velvet scrunchy, and sandals like those worn by ancient Greek Amazons. Her hair is wet and bound in a pony-tail. Her hand warm in mine, her nipples poking through the delicate cotton, her moist lips against my cheek, she whispers in my ear. It was the night my parents were out of town. We're alone; eighteen; senior year; prom; going off to college. We spend the night just sitting in the floor and watching TV. The flickering television plays reruns of I Dream of Jeanie; Brady Bunch; Partridge Family; Saturday Morning Cartoons. The house smells of Pop Tarts and coffee; Joni's favorites. She sits in front of the TV watching the Smurfs with a coloring book the size of the telephone directory. A sixty-four count box of Crayons is at her reach. Each and every color of the spectrum awaits to be used. I loved her quirks and I thought we would be together forever. She loves to color. I love to watch her. With the Prussian Blue in hand, she sits Indian style on the tan carpet, scribbling color on the page never wandering outside the lines. She asks to stay the weekend.
She takes a shower, I sit and listen to Depeche Mode's Somebody. I hear the jingling of shower curtain rings; shower stops. She exits and stands only in a large fluffy towel tied tight at her breasts. Water beads on her shoulders. She asks if I have something she can wear. I say she can help herself to what ever is in my closet. When she comes out, she's wearing a pair of my flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. I sit with her and massage her bare feet, until she falls asleep. I whisper to her unconscious ears, "Let's get married." She ignores me and rolls over.

draft: 6.22.97

TV: Tranzor Z

Summer 1985. School’s out. Nothing to do but be a kid. Sleeping in was almost a waste of time. I awake with the sound of the air conditioner’s soft rhythmic hum above me. Its cool breeze blows down across my body. Mother’s clanking make-up bottles and hair spray cans as she gets ready for work. I rub my eyes and jump from bed to run down the hall to the living room. I push the on button to the 1977 Zenith television and rotate the dial to channel 13 – dup, dup, dup, dup. The credits to The Flintstones roll:

Someday, maybe Fred will win the fight, And the cat will stay out for the night. Yabba dabba doo time. Dabba doo time. Wiiiilllllllmaaa!

I run to the kitchen and grab the box of Cap’n Crunch with crunch berries and pour a bowl. Milk glugs from the carton down onto the crisp peanut butter crunch bites. White droplets splash down to the counter top. The spoon clanks as it hits the blue and white Corningware bowl. Jumping back to the sofa and placing the bowl of cereal on the coffee table, the commercials end and the announcer booms that the following show starts next. Tranzor Z! My mother gives me a odd stare as I’m the kid up at 7 AM on a summer day. Yet, robot shows totally rule and I don’t dare miss an episode; it’s serialized. Each day the following show continued the story. Tranzor Z was just like Voltron but Tranzor Z could launch its fist to punch through galactic monsters. Not to mention a nice catchy theme song...

2nd Grade: Flings

Sitting in Ms. Carol's 2nd grade classroom, my desk is sandwiched between two girls, Kelly and Jamie. Small desks with storage under the seat. I work on math problems. The two girls look across me at each other and snicker and giggle. Recess bell rings and I run outside. We play soccer on the playground. My cub scout uniform covered in grass and dirt. Jamie and Kelly sit in the cubbies writing on their girly pink and yellow writing tablets. I walk by on my way to the steps back to class. They giggle and stare. I pretend its the uniform that has these two girls so enamored. I push out my chest and stride past like I'm Col. Steve Austin from Six Million Dollar Man. Back in the classroom, Ms. Carol's small AM/FM radio plays something by Air Supply--Lost in Love. Kelly and Jaime continue to stare and giggle. The invitation to Liz's birthday party sits on my desk. I look to see who else has one. There's only 5 or 6. Shawn and I are the only boys invited. Afternoon literature. Girls pass notes. Monday night TV--That's Incredible! Jamie nudges my arm and passes one to me. She nods as to confirm I can open it. Inside the note: who do you like better Jamie or Kelly, check the box by the name. Second Grade flings. I look to both and flush red. Day of weirdness. 3 o'clock bell rings and I grab my backpack. Jamie looks to me and smiles-- seeya Saturday at Liz's. I swallow and immediately become nervous.

Baseball: The Day the Magic Died

My daughter's baseball team almost won their first game of the 2009 season on Monday night. Although they were playing better than they did 6 weeks ago, they had met a team on that field, that raining Monday night, that was their equal. For the first time all season, my daughter Bree knew what it felt like to be a winner. Unfortunately, the game would flip the other way on one crucial error in the 2nd inning. (I should also state that little league games are 5 innings or an hour, 45 minutes. And most these games rarely get past the 3rd or 4th inning.) The other team would pull off three runs in the bottom of the third and leave the field on a walk off win-- 12-11.

So, when I was her age, I played baseball every spring. My mother's boss and owner of Chewning Footwear sponsored a team. Usually made up of the children of his employees and friends, the team performed very well. We were never a champion winning team but it was fun. The first year I played I was so young that I could barely hit the ball off a tee. I wasn't the greatest player in the field either and delegated to Left Field (although my desire was to play 3rd Base). When you hit off a tee, the ball rarely, I mean rarely goes past the infield. Thus, the outfields are pretty quiet during games. Year Two, nearly the entire team moved out of the pee wee class and now were hitting off a pitchers throw. Again, I wasn't that good but I managed to hit a few dingers, run to first. But what I do remember is that little league baseball in 1981 had something it no longer has -- chatter. Hey batter batter batter, hey batter batter batter, swing! The coaches weren't afraid to tell us that we sucked and we failed to play baseball when we lost games. The coach would load us all in the bed of his pickup to take us to the Tastee Freeze for ice cream if we won. If we lost, we got nothing, unless you count the laps around the bases we had to run at the next practice. Our uniforms were gold and black. we bought Big League Chew or Fun Dip candy from the concession stand. I remember going behind the concession stand to put a cup that was about five sizes too big into my pants so I could gear up as a catcher one game because Chad wasn't able to play. I remember that little league was extremely competitive. Parents would yell at the umpire, sometimes yell at the coaches. When I finally reached the age to go into the minors (that's what we called the 12 year old division) Chewning's no longer sponsored a team. Thus, I was now in a pool of kids being assigned to teams sponsored by other local businesses. That was my final year of little league baseball. Not that I lost the love for the game but because I lost interest in a team and league that cared more about winning than teaching and improving one's skills. That final year was 1983, I was playing for the Albertson's team. Our uniforms were a baby blue which I always hated. I wanted to play for the Gibson's team. Their uniforms were red and gray. During that final year, I was getting better. I won't lie, I wasn't a great hitter but I could make contact. It was that year that I broke my arm and would nail the fate of my baseball career. I remember that game to this day. I was on second, runner on first. Some kid named Scott hit a nice chopper to short stop. Being forced to run, I headed for third base. Yet the opposing team's third baseman which I think was the Gibson's team, was blocking the base and standing strong in the baseline (an illegal action by the way). We collided with full running force. Not sure how but I broke my arm on impact. Yet I didn't know it at the time. It wasn't until the next inning that I couldn't hold the bat that I realized I had a problem. The coach thought I was being a pansy and I needed to get out there and hit the ball. I would drop the bat in mid swing. It was the ump that called for me to be pulled as injured. My mother would take me to the emergency room and I would find that I had a broken arm. I would be out for 6 - 8 weeks and the season would be over. When it came to signing up for baseball the following summer, I conveniently let my application miss the deadline. I wouldn't play baseball again. It was the game...the day...the magic died.

I regret not playing baseball during high school. I wouldn't play something similar until I played on a friend's beer league softball team. I played Third Base and my jersey number was 5. And I was pretty good.

Maybe Bree's team will win this Saturday. We'll have to wait and see.

TV: Six Million Dollar Man

"Steve Austin, astronaut. A man barely alive. Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to build the world's first bionic man. Steve Austin will be that man. Better than he was before. Better, stronger, faster."

Wow! I loved that show. Steve Austin was partly man and partly robot. Not only did he have robotic parts but he was like a super-hero. He could run really fast and lift giant rocks. He had this cool eye that could zoom in on anything.

I watched this show in prime time. I had the toys. Steve Austin was as tall as a GI Joe. Or what we collectors today call 12 inch Action Figure. I played with him along with the inflatable command center while I watched the show. The command center was huge. I remember crawling inside so I could seat Steve at the chair and work the tiny cables and switches the electronic station had. It had to be big as I know it took forever to blow the dang thing up. The doll...um...action figure had this small view finder on the back of his head so you could look through his bionic eye. And if you rolled up his rubber skin on his bionic arm, I could take out these little chip boards or the actual "bionics". He even came with the infamous red running suit. I had the bionic capsule, too. It was this rocket shaped canister that Steve could go inside and it folded out to be a bionic table if I remember right.

I don't think I had any of the other characters--as I know there was a Oscar Goldman and a Bionic Woman version too. And no, I don't have these toys today. These must have been sold in one of our yard sales in the very early 80s.

I've watched the show since and still find it entertaining. I even watched the Bionic Marriage of Steve and Jamie Summers when I was twenty-something.

There's been rumor of a Six Million Dollar Man reboot for many years. At one time it was going to be a Kevin Smith movie, then it turned into a big budget comedy for Jim Carrey. I would love for this to be remade like the new Star Trek movie but you have to do it serious with a big nod for the old show. Granted, I think if the show was adjusted for today's dollar, it would be the Six Billion Dollar Man!

White Sands!

White Sands!

I look at the photograph in the big leather photo album and marvel at the past. I'm wearing green shorts with white stripes on the sides, a light blue T-shirt with a Star Wars iron-on on the front, and knee socks with dorky red stripes. The seventies were odd, but hold memories. It appears in the picture that I'm in the middle of a Minnesota winter, but I tell my friends I'm not. They laugh at my fashion sense. I grin and think back to that image...
Afternoon sun burns bright. Its red soul standing sentinel in the sky. Warming and lighting the day. I look out upon the national park. A gypsum crystal sea awaits, blinding and sparkling in an ocean of endless dunes; waves of sand fill the horizon. I dream of childhood ventures. I dream of family get-togethers.
The temperature rises and I wipe tear drops of sweat from my brow. I'm amazed this winter wonderland exists in the heat of summer. I move my tennis shoes out into the desert covered with snow that never melts and I explore this undiscovered country. I wonder how this appeared to Cortez, to the Spanish, to the French in a time long ago. The edge of the desert glowing with a halo of pure heavenly light. It must have taken their breaths away and brought them to their knees in prayer.
Blue-green, rocky, sharp mountains stand watch over the kingdom of imagination. I stroll through this world and get lost among the dunes. North, south, east, west are forgotten. I look above my head to see only large smoke gray clouds. Puffed like popcorn by mother nature, those clouds become heavy and rain pellets fall. Not a shower, not a sprinkle. The hot air evaporates the water before it has a chance to hit the ground. Only a drop or two stains the sand. I hope it doesn't rain (although I love the rain; the way it washes the dust from the air). My mother calls me back to the picnic table.
Across this sea of sand, small islands grow. Islands of Yuccas. Each a platoon of slender shafts, with their yellow blossoms and emerald, razor bayonets standing at noble attention. I respect them. And I envy them. They never leave this spectacular place. Forever standing at home. I see my mother and grandmother setting the picnic table. The tables are old with arched canopies, some green, some yellow, like crescent moons. Uncle Mike lights the small, charred, black barbecue grill. I look back at my trail of footprints in the sand.
Once an ocean. Now, a valley of gypsum deposits. A beautiful way to go out, I think. Time lost; past and present; pages of time. I swim, dive and run in this forgotten sea. Looking for Easter eggs, chasing and surfing the wandering dunes. The smell of flame-kissed burgers floats to my nose. Cousins sit on the green '66 Rambler, parked next to the splintered table. Music squeaks out of an old AM/FM radio. Probably something by the Partridge Family. Ice cream oozes out of a pink carton, drips, forming a stinky pond beneath the weathered wood. Can we eat it now before it melts away? My mother slaps my hand back; the spoon drops to the bench.
Now, I'm all grown up. And, I hope to return to this place often, when the future seems so uncertain. The world awaits and I fear it. But in this place I will be happy, always remembering my past because that was when life was easiest. I will remember it by many names: New Mexico's most "enchanted land", a blinding wonder; Oz of the soul; Zia's promised land, of eternal snow -- White Sands!

* * *
Christopher V. Whitfield
--1999 (revised)

TV: Emergency!

I remember this show as Emergency 51. Most likely because the Station and Truck number was 51 and the show was named Emergency!. The child mind is sometimes an interesting one. This show has to be in my list of all time favorite shows mainly because I remember watching this show not only in the 1970s when it ran in prime-time but also in the syndication re-runs on KTLA in the early 80s. Not only do I remember watching this show but I had the toys. Yep, they had toys for Emergency! and unfortunately I don’t have them any more. I wish I did.

The show was exciting. The guys DeSoto and Gage would be sitting at the table playing checkers and those awesome tones would sound overhead as the emergency call would come in. The men would run to either Engine 51 or Squad 51. The show was no ER but it had its medical drama along with the action of a rescue show. I always remember DeSoto and Gage calling in the emergency to Rampart and Rampart would always state, “give the victim 100cc saline and transport to Rampart” Then the ambulance would arrive and whisk the poor hurt victim away.

So, I remember my 7th birthday in 1979. My mother and I lived at the old Air Base in Roswell. When Walker Air Force Base closed the housing became rental properties. I don’t recall how long we lived there but it was just in the 1970s and I remember the duplex apartment being cold and dull. The events of my birthday are vague and I remember them to be mixed with happiness, selfishness and depression. I had a few of my friends and cousins over. Not too many children. There’s a picture of all of us in my mother’s photo album. Without going and looking at the photo it was: Shawn, Craig, my cousin Greg and Arnie and me. My cousin Arnie is wearing one of my birthday presents in the photo.

I mainly remember these events as over time, I have seen the photos in the big photo album at my mother’s. The last time I looked at it was when I was showing my soon-to-be-wife in 1998. So forgive me if in the last ten years I have some of the details screwed up.

So the present that Arnie was wearing in the photo was my new Emergency! firefighter role-play gear. It was a red fireman’s helmet with the Emergency 51 logo on the front, a plastic air tank, hose, face mask and tackle box. I was totally excited but I know selfishness and depression kicked in when I had to allow my younger cousin to proceed to wear it for the rest of the party. I’m the birthday kid and I don’t even get a picture of me in my latest present. No…that would be my cousin. Hint the emotions I remember from that time.

TV: Battle of the Planets

I thought I would tell my stories with a common theme. The theme for now is TV shows. I wrote earlier on the joy Land of the Lost brought to my childhood. I thought what about the other shows. I won’t lie; there are a lot of them. So in the effort of not going too crazy I will limit it to those that made and impact on me and those that I still watch today and find enjoyment.

Battle of the Planets (1978) 1979

BOTP was huge when I was only six and seven. I can’t recall the exact day or month I discovered this show but I do know I was in the 2nd grade. How do I know this? I would watch the show after school at Grandma Combs. Oh, she wasn’t my grandmother. Heck, we weren’t even related. She was the lady that watched me and a few other kids after school. Yet she insisted we all call her Grandma Combs, so we did. Today, that might raise some eyebrows but back then, we didn’t care.

TV watching at Grandma Combs was a unique affair. There was only one television and usually it needed to be shared by several children so everyone had to agree on the show. I was lucky that we got to watch BOTP every other day while the in-between days was the Flintstones…or was it the Tom and Jerry. I can never really remember. But I do remember that Travis and I would always demand BOTP in the afternoons. The show was on KCOP out of Los Angeles. Our local cable provider back in those days offered a whopping 13 channels of content. Four of those channels were from the LA market-- KTTV, KTLA, KCOP and KCAL. I still remember all of those channels. KTLA and KCOP were the cool channels as they played afternoon cartoons. KCAL and KTTV played old 50s and 60s sitcoms and old movies. No fun for a boy at 6 years old. Yet, KCOP always had the newer and differnt shows. Please note: this channel will be mentioned again and again. So around 4 pm in the afternoon I would park my body in the floor of Grandma Combs'living room. Sometimes I would lay down with my arms and elbows in a plush pillow. And I'd watch Battle of the Planets. The show would start and I would instinctively hum the theme song. This show was nothing like anything else on television.

The show revolved around five teenage characters that would change from ordinary people into fighting hawk-like ninjas and battle an alien invasion force determined to rule the earth. There was Mark--the pilot and leader; there was Jason--the race car driver; there was Keyop--who talked in stutters and clicks; there was Tiny--the mechanic and pilot of the Phoenix; and then there was Princess--the cute girl of the team. Chief Anderson would alert 7-Zark-7 to gather G-Force. The five members would race back to Center Neptune and if they couldn't, they would rendevous with the Phoenix in flight. The Phoenix was this ultra sleek ship that was heavily armed and could fly at great speeds. And when she did, she would appear like the fiery Phoenix of myth.

Like I mentioned, the show wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen. It was a show about teenagers that were like superheroes and part of this super secret team to protect Earth. Even the animation style and look of the show was different than any other shows on at the time: like Challenge of the Super Friends, Johnny Quest, Scooby-Doo or Dastard and Muttley. I couldn’t get enough of it. My eyes were glued to the TV until the end credits would roll. I even remember some of the TV commercials that would air at the same time. Kenner would run Star Wars figure ads and there was always the commercial for a Hot Wheels track.

Mark, Jason, Princess, Keyop and Tiny didn't have powers every day. They would have to transform into their hawk-like persona. They would do this via a wrist device and shouting the word, “Transmute!”. They would lift their arm and bring it in front of their face in a sideways "V". "Transmute!" The screen would shimmer and have a kaleidoscope look and they would turn into the birds of prey. Mark was Eagle, Jason was Condor, Keyop was Sparrow, Princess was Swan and Tiny was Owl. My mother had bought me a Star Wars digital watch sometime around then (which I still have today…ok…I’m a pack rat) and I would pretend my watch was the transmute device that Keith and Jason used. I would contort my arm and make the same sideways "V" and yell “Transmute!”. I begged my mother to sew my a cape and costume that looked like their outfits, but she never did. So my imagination was the only solution. I would ride my bike and pretend it was the jet Mark flew to make the tail of the Phoenix. It would be about another 5-6 years before I would become mesmerized by a cartoon. That show would be Robotech. It would be Robotech that introduced me to what I had no idea of in 1978-79 that BOTP was an import of Japanese animation. Nor did I know that it had a different plot and was re-dubbed. Nor would I know that 7-Zark-7 was not in the original Japanese show, Science Ninja Team Gatchaman. 7-Zark-7 was created by the American producers to give the show more of a kids appeal. And he helped hide the edited out violence.

It was the year 2001 and Rhino was releasing BOTP on DVD. I, without hesitation, bought all the DVDs and watch them to this day. They never got around to releasing all 85 episodes. I think they only got about 36 released before Rhino stopped releasing them. Today, the original show Gatchaman is on DVD and I acquired those. I like to watch the original version too. Funny thing is, it has the same theme song just different lyrics.

Memories…..

Great Joy and Great Sadness

My grandmother passed away 10 years ago last January. Sadly, I didn’t realize it was ten years ago until I started hearing the buzz about the ten year anniversary of The Phantom Menace.

TPM had been such a big thing to me back in 1998 and 1999. The excitement of a new Star Wars movies was on everyone's mind. So, it was a real shock when I got that phone call late one night that my grandmother’s health was failing and my mother had checked her back into the hospital. She warned me that this might be the time to prepare for the worse although I didn't want to hear it. I wouldn't hear it. In my own rationale, I knew she would get better. She had done so in the past. See, she battled several health issues and cancer for about three years before that fateful phone call. All those times before, she got better and went back home. Yes, deep down, I knew she wasn’t that strong independent woman that had raised three kids on her own after her husband died early in life in mid-1966.

Back in the summer of 1998, I took my soon-to-be wife down to meet the family. It was that summer (and the only time) my wife met and spoke with my grandmother. At the time, she was spending a few days in the hospital and recovering from the latest treatments of her cancer. We, the family, knew she couldn’t go back home to her small apartment in Alamogordo, so it was up to me and the rest family to assist in moving her into my mother's place in Roswell. In between trips to the hospital, and with nothing better to do in New Mexico, I took my soon-to-be-wife to all the famous locales. We went to Carlsbad Caverns and White Sands. On the way back from White Sands, I stopped in Alamogordo and at my grandmother’s apartment. I had a Nissan truck at the time and I was going to take a few things back to Roswell that she needed and she insisted I take a few things back home with me--like the table, chairs, microwave and some dishes--all to start the new life with my soon-to-be-wife. As we finished loading up the truck, I told my wife that I needed to go back inside for a few seconds. My excuse was to make sure we got everything and lock up. Yet, my sole intent was to simply reflect. That day would be the last time I stood or sat in my grandmother’s apartment. It was the home she had made for herself for as long as I could remember. I truly don’t have any true memories of her other homes (the photos from the 70s tell me I was there but I can't remember them.) When I think of my grandmother’s house, it was that little one room apartment in Alamogordo. The apartment that so many things happened. In that apartment we watched the Space Shuttle Columbia land at White Sands Missle Range. It was that apartment that I drew countless sketches of super-heroes. It was that appartment that helped define my life as every summer I would spent many days there.

The earliest memory of that apartment would be the summer she moved in. I remember that summer very clearly. I was 9 years old and spending the summer with my grandmother as I so often did. Yet this summer she was relocating back to Alamogordo. A few weeks earlier, she had signed the paper work on the apartment and now she was able to move in. I helped her load up the car and we drove to Alamogordo. We arrived a day early so we had to stay the first night in a motel. I still remember the motel too. It was the Satellite Inn in Alamogordo. I remember the neon sign that was a planet with a bunch of star-like satellites encircling around it. We picked it mainly for its Sci-Fi reference. The room was nothing special, but I do remember begging my grandmother for a couple of quarters because the bed was one of those vibrating kind. I had never been on a vibrating bed. I still remember the coin box that was next to headboard. It looked like those you find on the penny horse at King Soopers. Long story short, she moved in and it would begin a long history of summers I would spend with her in that apartment.

It was the apartment that I sat in the floor under a fan reading comic books. I loved Alamogordo for one reason: it had a awesome newsstand that had hundreds of cool things. I remember going into town (that’s what she always called it) and going to the Yucca Newsstand. It was the only place that had hundreds of comics in wire racks. It sold coins and paperbacks too. I can still smell it--the smell of printed paper and tobacco. It also sold pipe tobacco and supplies. It was that newsstand that I saw my very first images of the new Star Wars movie called Return of the Jedi. It was an image of a incomplete Death Star and a Star Destroyer. The image was on the cover of the movie's collector magazine. My grandmother bought it for me. And I still have it to this day. I would later go back there to buy the comic adaptations of Return of the Jedi and to buy other Star Wars comics. I bought the ROTJ novelization there. I bought the ROTJ poster magazine there. It was my favorite store while I was that age. Not until a store called Greenspray Books did I love such a store. It saddens me that I wasn’t able to go back to that newsstand before it closed. If the stories are true, it closed around 2000, only a short time after my grandmother died.

So many Star Wars memories focus around my grandmother. She was the person who drove me to Kmart back in the Summer of 1983 to buy my first ROTJ action figure. It was a Gamorrean Guard. I still have it to this day (along with all my childhood SW action figures). Why I bought the Gamorrean Guard I do not know. I guess I thought the pig dude looked cool and he came with that neat meat clever-like ax. Seriously, to be more realistic, I think that was the only figure they had at the time. And I was determined to buy a ROTJ figure that day. Thus, it had to be a character from ROTJ and on a ROTJ card. Even late in 1983, the store still had dozens of the Empire Strikes Back carded figures on the shelf. Most being characters from Star Wars but on an ESB cardback.

Thus, the reason I forge this tale, is to honor my grandmother. She had so much to do with my early Star Wars memories. She entertained my Star Wars fascination then, and even when I became an adult. I wish I could have shared some stories of the new movies with her. The stories of my friends and I standing in the rain and lines at Celebration. The rushing out at midnight to buy toys. The seeing TPM five times in one day on May 19th. 1999 was definitely a very notable year--it saw the release of a new Star Wars prequel movie and my grandmother's death. It was a huge stamp in my yearbook of life. It was a time of both great joy and great sadness. I shall never forget. I remember those times not only for me, but for her...

Rain vs. Klingons...a Celebration Flashback.

I mentioned earlier that listening and watching the rain inspired me to remember back to the first Star Wars Celebration. For the record, Celebration back in 1999 was plagued by three days of nothing but rain. At a traditional convention, inside a convention center, this would have no effect. Yet, Star Wars Celebration was a mixed venue. It was inside an aircraft hanger, now a local air museum and several large tents erected in a vacant field across from the museum’s small parking lot.

So, on my way to work, while spending Memorial Day weekend with of on-and-off again rain for three days, I make this assumption to myself that perhaps this is one of those rain storms that comes every ten years. It would make sense. Within a few weekends of the tenth anniversary of Celebration, we have this long weekend of rain. If that is the case, then this is good news as we need the rain as Colorado has been in a drought for the last few years. Although most that attended Celebration will complain and whine about the rain, I wouldn’t have changed that weekend a bit ten years ago. It made it memorable. Actually, I don’t have any major complaints for the event. Yes there was rain, massive lines and a poor venue, but I would trade any average weekend to go back. Thus, this brings me to the very few complaints I had. Those being:

1. The security. This would be my number one complaint. The security company hired for the event had only been hired a few days prior to the event. See, the original plan was not to have “security” per se. Instead it would be manned by volunteers and paid employees of the Fan Club. Yet, a few weeks prior our area was whacked with the Columbine tragedy and every one was fearful. Just like the Sith want. So, the Fan Club hired a security agency that actually works security at heavy metal concerts. So those punks were expecting the worse. They thought we’d all be drunk, high or carrying weapons. None of those things ever happened mind you. This is a geek festival not a biker gang reunion. I had my own run in with these jerks when they tried to confiscate my friend’s and I's lightsaber hilts. They were made from aluminum and looked like a lightsaber. Yet they interpreted these as weapons. --Only if I beat you with it! After arguing with these guys for about ten minutes and demanding a convention employee assist in the issue, they were told ease up on this one side of the weapon policy. And for the record, the weapon policy at this Celebration was much much more strict than at any other Celebration and we had Columbine to thank for that. Basically, no blasters of any kind were allowed at the Celebration. I'm thankful that didn't hold true for the other Celebrations. Enough of that.

2. Pepsi. Wow. Really, how could one complain about Pepsi. My wife has a heart condition and cannot have sodas with caffeine. Pepsi was one of the major sponsors of the event and of Star Wars that year. You couldn’t go from one corner of the convention to the other without being hit with advertising and samples. One of the Pepsi reps overheard my wife complain that Pepsi had no products with “no caffeine”. To which the rep became over protective of Pepsi and besieged my wife with statements that Pepsi had many “no caffeine” products. The issue my wife had was not Pepsi in general but the Pepsi products at Celebration as all of them were caffeinated versions. I guess they wanted us all alert and awake. Even a simple Sierra Mist selection would have been nice but nah-noooo!

3. And the third complaint was...was....ummm.... the Klingons. Yeah the Klingons that crashed the party on Sunday afternoon. I know this complaint cant be held accountable to the event promoters… or can it? Maybe they should have seen them coming and asked them to leave. Then again, it was funny to see how much Star Trek bashing they got. Now that I recall this, I think they were only around a few hours…mmm…I wonder why. Dorks!

So that was the worst parts of Celebration. The things that stick out most are walking through the Archives and seeing original models and props for the first time in my life, getting my picture taken with a life sized Darth Maul and a life sized Jar Jar, seeing Anakin’s podracer, seeing the life sized (sorta 2/3's scale) model of the X-wing for the first time, interacting with the fans, seeing panels with Ray Park and Warrick Davis, seeing a fan that had such a good Darth Maul costume on I thought it was Ray Park himself, sitting in the dining tent and eating a lunch of Pizza Hut and KFC in little con boxes and having Anthony Daniels walk the line and stop in front of me to chat for a few seconds.

Yes, that weekend holds true as one of the best of my life. Its only match would be the weekends of Celebration II, Celebration III and Celebration IV. Runner ups would be San Diego Comic Con and my trips to Disneyland and Disney World, but that's for another story later...

When I was young, "Lost" meant "Land of the Lost"...

So I wake up this morning and flick the Bravia on to watch some TV as we eat breakfast. Browsing the HD channels, I rest on Sci-fi to find they are playing Land of the Lost. Not just one episode, but a whole marathon of episodes. Nothing but Land of the Lost, all day!

My wife and I immediately reconnect with the show. Being the same age, we experienced many things at the same time as one another; although we didn't know each other as children. So, with that, I'm thinking this show was much more popular than I remember. I thought it was one of those forgotten or unknown cult shows that very few remember, like the Tomorrow People or You Can't Do That On Television. Land of the Lost, or LOTL, ran from 1974-1976. A bit too early for us to consciously remember it in first run broadcast. Thus, that means we definitely watched LOTL in reruns. Without doing the research, I'm going to assume I saw the reruns via one of the independent channels out of Los Angeles; I'm thinking KCOP or KTLA played the show on Saturdays--late Saturday mornings after the current shows had ended. Shows like Smurfs and Spider-man and His Amazing Friends. I'm guessing I was about 9 or 10 at the time, better stored in my memory. That would put the time around 1980-1981. I may have some earlier memories of the show, dating back into the 1970s, but only vague ones like a whisper of a ghost.

What I do remember from the show, along with the Sleestaks, Chaka, and the cheesy video effects, was the character Holly. Boy do I remember Holly. I can honestly say I had the biggest crush on her when I was little. This crush was different than the crushes I had on Anne Lockhart and Heather Thomas. This was a girl that was the same age as me thus making the crush a bit more personal. In my mind, she wasn't much different than the girls in my own grade school class. I couldn't tell you what she had that Sissy P———, Jamie S——— or Elizabeth F——— didn't have. Maybe it was her blond hair in braided pigtails (a hold out of Cindy Brady) or her smile with those puffy chipmunk cheeks. I'm sure it wasn't the fashion sense of a red plaid shirt and those burgundy pants. I guess it was unexplainable. My wife gives me a strange look when I tell her this story. Oh well...

So, I tell my daughter, who is now going on 10 years old, that I watched this show all the time when I was her age. I tell her about the scary Sleestaks and the dinosaurs. We begin to watch it for a while and I ask her how she likes it so far. She looks at me and says "it's pretty good but the dinosaurs look really fake." I had to laugh and agree. She also reminds me there is a movie coming out and I have to remind her that this show came first and the movie is a big Hollywood revival movie. Yes, the original show didn't have the special effects we take for granted today. Yet it still had magic. It's timeless. I would be lying if I didn't say the show had an impact on how I turned out or how it had an impact on my youth. I wonder if the movie will do the same for kids today. Most likely not. And unlike some shows that I enjoyed as a child, I'm still enjoying this one as I watch it again. Perhaps, it's because of the memories it's igniting from my youth.

Stormtroopers Here?

With today's cool and refreshing rain showers and the mild thunderstorms, I started thinking back to the first Star Wars Celebration. It was during that weekend that we got three days of intense rain.

So over ten years ago, my wife, our friend Lance and myself were preparing for the first Star Wars Celebration. We had spent a few weeks, if not a couple months, buying prop items and working over a sewing machine creating our first Jedi costumes.

During that process, we had also acquired DL-44 "Han Solo" Blasters and replicas of the belt and holster Luke wore in the Empire Strikes Back. We were not planning on wearing these as part of our Jedi costumes but we had thought about working on a smuggler or rebellion inspired style costume. The costumes would never be constructed but we did have a short opportunity to wear the blasters.

The rain had started Thursday evening. It wouldn't quit until Sunday morning. So that night, Lance and I were going to go over to the Wings of the Rockies and scout out the Celebration. Not sure if the Celebration was official opened for business that Thursday night, but we went out there anyways. I had thrown on my red water-proof Eddie Bauer Weather Edge shell. It had the streaming effect of Han's parka from ESB yet without the weight of a full winter coat. Along with the jacket, I decided to give the boot spats a try and to top the outfit off, I strapped on the DL-44 and belt. Not an official costume of sorts, but I felt like some kind of Spice Trader or Bounty Hunter. With communication prior to Lance picking me up (to head over to the Celebration), Lance had put something very similar on as well, only his jacket was blue.

As we arrived, the place was fairly quiet. There was some small activity of venders setting up. We walked right through the main doors and I don't recall anyone wanting to see our badges although we were wearing them just in case. I remember walking in that night. The scene was not that of a busy convention. But the first thing I saw that evening were Stormtroopers. I turned and looked at Lance and spoke, "Stormtroopers here?". The stood in a small alcove off to the right of the main doors. We were in awe. These weren't some cheap Halloween costumes we were looking at. They had to be from Lucasfilm-they were that good. I had never been so close to Stormtroopers of this coolness and quality. The last Stormtrooper costume I remember seeing in person was the plastic jumpsuit and mask I had when I was 8. Yet, here, in front of my 26 year old eyes, were Stormtrooper costumes that were made out of real armor-platic armor anyways. Several of the Stormtroopers were clean and a couple were dirty with shoulder pauldrons. Not only were there real Stormtroopers, there was real Sandtroopers too!

I remember asking one of the guys, where did you get the armor? He said that there was a special outfit that could provide it. He said he was part of an organization called Vader's Legion. So, they weren't official Lucasfilm Stormtroopers. This gave me hope of getting my own Stormtrooper outfit. When I asked how much something like stormtrooper armor cost, he replied with a cool "$1000." My hopes and dreams of becoming a stormtrooper were immediately deflated. There was no way I could afford that. So all I could do was dream.

So, one of the very first memories of Star Wars Celebration was that of Stormtroopers and the real ones that were standing in that small alcove inside the museum's doors. Before the weekend was out, I would even see a black stormtrooper and Snowtroopers. It was that awe and envy that made that weekend a series of great memories.

Oh, and I recall the question that I fielded many times that night, "what character are you?"

To be a Jedi...

Star Wars Celebration was a few months away and our friend Lance decided that if we were going to a Star Wars Celebration, we were going to go in style and dress like Jedi. We were to be Jedi! I was a bit skeptical but was willing to give it a try. I really hadn't done the costume thing before but thought it would be fun. Not to mention, Lance was willing to be generous enough to buy many of the key components. He had found a few places on the internet. Finding a place called Park Sabers, Lance purchased my wife and I professional brushed aluminum lighsaber hilts. He had purchased a version that looked a lot like Luke's from the Return of the Jedi. I went for a style more Darth Vader-ish as I thought I was a darker Jedi. My wife's lightsaber was a unique style and was quite nice.

Along with the lightsabers, he had found a place that sold costume pieces. I can't remember what the place was called but I think it had "star" in the name. The one thing that a Jedi needs is a robe or cloak. We proceeded to buy two of their master Jedi robes. I had felt a little guilty for him buying everything so I pitched in on the cloaks. Although we didn't think of this at the time, the robes were no different than a standard monk style robe. The sleeves were too narrow. The hoods were way too small. And they didn't have the big baggy style that Obi-wan was seen to have in TPM. Yet, at the time, we thought they were the coolest things we ever wore. I remember the day they arrived. We had gone out on my apartment's balcony and put them on and practiced our Jedi walk and ominous hooded look. We even got a few looks from the neighbors.

Finding affordable boots was an issue yet the costume site had boot spats that made us appear to be wearing cool Jedi boots yet were much cheaper and velcro'd in the back. I was lucky that I had a pair of dress shoes that had seen better days and matched the color of the boot spats perfectly. I look back on that boot spat idea and think we must have looked so stupid yet I still have those boot spats in a box in the garage.

With boots (sorta), lightsaber (along with a replica belt in the style of old Obi-wan and Han Solo) and a Jedi cloak, there was only one thing missing. I was missing the inner robes. I figured I could use an old pair of khakis for my pants but the shirt needed to look like a Jedi's inner robes. The only solution was I needed to make one. I had never made a costume in my life but that day I went to the fabric store and bought some cool fabric. I didn't know how to sew thus I bought a pattern for a karate uniform. It looked a lot like a Jedi inner robe. With a few modifications, we made it work. We didn't even have a sewing machine so we asked my wife's aunt if we could borrow hers. Having never used a sewing machine before, I had to learn fast. My wife and her aunt were quite surprised that I actually wanted to sew my own costume. It took us a few weeks but we finished them and we were quite proud of ourselves as well.

Flash forward a couple more weeks and its Sunday, the last day of Celebration. We had spotted a cute young girl wearing the Slave Leia outfit. We wanted a picture with her but we were afraid to ask because we didn't want to look like a couple of pervy guys. In the end, we didn't need to ask at all. That afternoon, she actually approached us and wanted a picture with us and our Jedi costumes. She told us that we had done a very nice job and she had seen us the day before but hadn't had the opportunity to stop and ask. We got our photos with her and she got her's with a couple of cool Jedis. I still have that picture to this day.

Yet, I will admit, our costumes sucked back then. As I look at that photo with the slave Leia, I see every flaw. They weren't very movie accurate and the robes were all wrong, along with the sashes, etc. It was this irritation with those costumes that I would spend 2 years researching and making better Jedi costumes that would debut at Star Wars Celebration II. To this day, I stand by those CII costumes to be very accurately done. I still break it out and wear it from time to time. It did get a minor modification for Celebration III yet it has been very much unaltered since the day we sewed them in 2001. Thus we became Jedi in 1999 and it was the first time I costumed...

Nothing but Star Wars

So, this whole week I've thought nothing but Star Wars. I watched The Phantom Menace 5 times on May 19th. I have watched it a few more times since. Ok, like every night. I wasn't watching it intently but it was on in the back ground while I wrote these blogs and worked on other things. I can say that it was a pretty good week. It was fun going back in time and remembering the details of ten years ago.

I have also pulled out my memory box, per se, and found all my Star Wars Celebration souvenirs. I found the program, the badges, the freebies and the photos. It has inspired me to complete a memory-style book so I can appreciate these things easier. I have a big leather binder with all my photos from Celebration III and IV yet Celebration and Celebration II have been overlooked for too long. And right now most of the souviners are just sitting in a box and not being enjoyed.

I thought I would share a few things I still have in the box. And one in particular. Inside the box, I have two Darth Maul convention badges, 2 copies of the Program Listing and Program Guide, a couple Pepsi bags with draw strings and one pack of Farley's Episode I Mega-Duals Galactic Berry Fruit Snacks. These things really bring back some great memories.

So during the Summer of 1999, my friends and I must have bought a few dozen boxes of these Farley's Mega-Duals Galactic Berry Episode I Fruit Snacks. We liked to call them Jedi Snacks . They come fat free with a high source of Vitamins C, E and Beta Carotene. The bag has a picture of little Anakin with his pod racer helmet and the legendary red laser blast logo with Star Wars Episode I. The bag is still sealed but I can feel that these little fruit snacks are now as hard as little rocks. But I can still literally taste these things like it was yesterday. These Jedi Snacks were in our Jedi belt pouches on opening day. I can remember eating a couple packs during each viewing of TPM. I took them on vacation. I took them to the Ren Fair. I took them to work. I loved these things. They really aren't any different than the fruit snacks that you find today in the grocery isle but these were the first Star Wars ones. I remember there being two different kinds. There was the standard flavors and then the Mega-Dual. I must not have saved a bag of the standard flavors. I remember they were in the shapes of Obi-wan, Jar Jar, Anakin and Darth Maul. If memory serves, the Regular Flavors box was blue with a Battle Droid on it. The boxes were everywhere, Walmart, Safeway and King Soopers. Like I said, I must have bought a few dozen that summer. Why I saved one bag? I don't remember but I'm glad I did.

I remember when Episode II came out, I so craved some Jedi Snacks but couldn't find any. I don't think they ever made them to be honest. There was the rumor that many things that were made and promoted during TPM wasn't done for AOTC (Attack of the Clones) because so many companies had lost money on the over hype and promotional items of Episode I. The good news would be that when Episode III was released, Kellogg's had their version of Jedi Snacks. I immediately felt like a kid again and went out and bough box after box. Again, I took them to Celebration III and to the opening day screenings. They were always in my Jedi belt pouches. I don't think I saved any of those snacks save one lone bite size snack. It was a green Yoda head. It's as hard as a rock today too. I do remember saving one bag though and when Episode III was 1 year old, I remember breaking it open and eating them in remembrance of that anniversary. I also remember turning and saying to my wife, "when gone these are, the last of the Jedi Snacks they would be..."

Good memories...

The Jab

So, I was listening to a Phantom Menace remembrance podcast today and the show had numerous voice-mails and MP3s of fans calling/sending in their Phantom Menace memories. After listening to them, I started thinking. While everyone stated how much they remember standing in lines for tickets or the actual first screening, and how they look back on the movie with fondness and the time with sentiments, they almost always follow or precede their statements with a jab at the movie. And, this got me wondering if anyone truly feels the movie is a great Star Wars movie. But because of the popularity of prequel hate, they feel (by way of obligation or in the spirit of looking cool) they have to slam the movie at the same time. Even the podcast's host (who sounds to be a huge fan of Star Wars) went in loving the movie. (sidebar: I found it coincidental that, like myself, he saw the movie literally five times in the first day.) Yet,by the end he stated that he slowly lost his appreciation for it and he found himself bored and disenchanted with the movie as a whole. So much to the point, that he didn't watch it for a couple years afterward. I unlike the host do not nor did not share the same opinion. After five viewings, I was still very much impressed and loved the movie.

I will admit there are parts of the film I dislike. There is a character I prefer not be so animated or comical. Yet, this is Star Wars! We should appreciate it. Sorta like a wife. You take Star Wars in the best of times and in the worst of times, in sickness and in health, etc etc. Again, as Star Wars fans, in an effort of being taken seriously, is it a must to throw down some prequel hate?

Which brings me to another point as well. This movie was so hyped by the 16 years of waiting and anticipation, that regardless of the final product, I think the fan community would have still torn the movie down. Everyone had their own prequel built in their mind. Everyone had their own events mapped out and once we got the official version, it didn't match our own imagination thus it clearly was out of place. One of the most common criticisms of the movie is that it didn't feel like a Star Wars movie. I disagree with this statement. I think it feels very much like a Star Wars movie but a Star Wars movie created by a storyteller who now had a much much bigger pallet of colors to work from. If GL had made Episode I in 1986 or 1989 as some of the original rumors were back then, perhaps it would have felt more like the OT. The guilty party is that of modern film technology. There was this thing called CGI that didn't exist in 1983. The scenes were being shot digitally instead of on 35mm film stock. Scenes were being edited in a computer vs. an editing table. So in a "certain point of view" the movie felt different on a technical level but the magic of Star Wars was still present. There's a ton of woulda-coulda've suggestions when it comes to the prequels. My key "what should have been done" is GL should have made the movies as if he was in 1986. Challenged himself to film the movie like he would have in the 1980s with all those technological challenges. Then only use the CGI and digital technology only after to enhance the movie at the editing stage. But EPI was pre-visualized way too early as a big test vehicle of ILM's might.

So with all this pondering, I'm thinking Star Wars fans are simply keeping their true feelings for The Phantom Menace locked deep inside? I'm not afraid to admit when I like something. And I like Episode I! I still watch it several times a year. I still feel the magic when I sit down to watch it. It's a small window into the past--at time machine of sorts--that allows me to literally relive one of the happiest times of my life--the anticipation that was Episode I!

Midnight Madness = Toys!

In continuing my star wars memories, I will briefly give another short Star Wars memoir. This one is about grown men and them racing out to buy toys—action figures!

May 2, 1999. Star Wars Celebration had ended not with a whimper or a bang but sadly with a simple passing moment of time. We were exhausted and dirty. I recall that I had driven home and dropped the wife off. We took quick showers and grabbed bites to eat. I had called my friend Lance and a confirmed the time he’d swing by to pick me up for tonight’s big event. He’d be by around 10:30 PM. With it being only 7ish at the time, I figured I would grab a quick catnap. In a nervous worry I would totally fall asleep and not awake for days, I had set the alarm for 10:15. I dozed with my Star Wars T-shirt, Jeans and ball cap on. As the catnap turned into a full sleep, it was a good thing I had set the alarm. It beeped in that annoying style that made the sound perfect for an alarm clock. I raced out of our apartment and down the stairs to wait for my friend.
He sped through the parking lot in his Jetta a few minutes late but nothing to worry about. We were off. 10:45 PM we decide to hit the Toys R Us on Mississippi and I-225 first. Arriving with five minutes to the TRU, we quickly changed plans. The Toys R Us had a line that went from the front door, around the corner, around the building and down the perimeter of the parking lot. I had never seen so many people lined up at a toy store in the middle of the night before. We ran down some alternate locations. For some reason we decided to cross the street to the Media Play (the store would close in 2007 and the building is now vacant). The good news was there was no line. The doors were open and you could walk right inside. There were about 50 people mingling through the store. I remember that we had total access to all the merchandise and could peruse the books and trinkets. While at the time we thought this very cool, it never dawned on us that when it got closer to midnight to move our purchases to the registers. See, we could look at the stuff and buy the stuff but we had to wait until 12:01 AM so that the store technically hadn’t broke street date on the merchandise. The street date being 5/3/99. In a moment of distraction, we had missed an opportunity to grab our novelizations, CD score and posters and step third or fourth in an already crowed check out lane. As we raced to the registers at 11:45 PM, we had to wait until that moment of 12:01. I remember the girl at the counter kept checking the registers time and when it clicked to 12:01 she quickly used the little laser gun on merchandise as fast as she could.
The unfortunate part was we wouldn’t leave the Media Play until nearly 12:25 AM. That was literally an eternity in Star Wars collecting time. Every second counted in finding Star Wars merchandise and acquiring the most important Star Wars toys. Although Media Play was a great place to find the merchandise and media of The Phantom Menace, they had not action figures. Toys R Us across the street was a failed attempt. I quickly suggested the 24-hour Super Kmart (the store eventually closed in 2003 and is now a Home Depot). It was the store I still worked at part time in the evenings and the store I had worked all though college. The store was 20 minutes away but we ran to the car and raced out of the parking lot as if we were a Pod Racer.
As we drove by the TRU, the line outside had shrunk but there were still people outside. Meaning: there were still some poor fans not even near the figure pegs. How anxious that must felt like.
Twenty minutes later, we had parked in the parking lot of the Super Kmart 4918 in Greenwood Village Colorado. Lance and I nearly sprinted to the toy isles. Yet it was eerily quiet. There was no one around. I quickly picked up a store phone and paged a co-worker who was both a good friend and Star Wars fan. I remember the conversation not even getting past a “hey”. It was simply, “the figures are up here at the east doors, hurry!” We raced to the east doors, the grocery side of the store. There sitting on pallets were dozens and dozens of action figure cases. The sides read: Star Wars Episode I Figure Assortment I Street Date 5/3/99. The stock crew hadn’t even bothered to hang the figures on pegs or shelves. They had just allowed the collectors, the fans, the enthusiasts to pick through the cases. I feared we were too late. There were dozens of empty cases. I quickly found my friend Mark, the co-worker I had paged only moments ago. He saw our disappointed faces. Yet he had foreseen our tardiness in the Force. He hand gestured a “follow me”. We followed. He led us into the back of the store where another pallet sat full of fresh unopened cases of TPM action figures. I quickly grabbed a few cases and snapped the tape with my keys. The feeling was more electric than I had ever experienced.
I had been collecting the action figures for nearly 5 years and I had never felt the rush I felt that night. We grabbed our cases and he walked us back up to the front of the store. He pulled the pallet of new cases behind us. We spent another half hour looking through and confirming we had what we needed and I had my two of each. At the time there weren’t many people looking through the boxes, but I do remember everyone was willing to help a fellow fan find that one figure they needed to complete their collection. I specifically recall pulling at least one Darth Maul out and helping a fellow fan, a fan that had bought his 7-year-old boy out to participate in that memorable night.
So with my two of each, one to open and one to leave sealed—yes, that was the my collector mentality back then—I slowly walked to the registers. I look back on that night with a bizarre fondness, especially since as I don’t buy any of the action figures today. I still clearly remember walking to the check out lanes of that Super Kmart at 1:30 AM feeling like I had just won a lottery, watching dozens of action figures being scanned and carefully placed back into their cases. I even remember swiping my credit card to a tune of $341.72. In addition, that amount didn’t even count toward the nearly $200 I had spent on books and music at the Media Play only an hour earlier. That night was the first Midnight Madness I would experience. And it wouldn’t be the last Midnight Madness either. However, I will say, those nights were some of the most fun I would ever have as a Star Wars fan.

The Phantom Memory of May 19th 1999.

A short memoir about the day Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace was released.

As I began to write this memoir, it nears the exact time, to the minute, that ten years ago, my wife and I (along with a small group of friends and family) sat in a dimly lit movie theater awaiting our first screening of The Phantom Menace. The time was 11:45 PM May 18, 1999.
Flash forward, at exactly 11:43 PM May 18, 2009, I have reclined on my sofa, laptop computer on my…well…lap and I have placed the DVD of The Phantom Menace into the Playstation 3—up-scaled it to 1080p and projected it through my 52 inch Sony Bravia LCD TV—all in attempts to recreate that day in that darkened theater not so long ago. The volume on the home theater is turned up to a thunderous roar. On the other hand, the best it will allow in light of the DVD’s compressed audio in this age of Blu-ray and superior sound technology and not to wake the wife and daughter.
Sitting in that theater, ten years prior, I may have not been thinking as long and hard on the past ten years as I am tonight. However, I know I would have been sitting there wondering if I would ever experience something like that again. Moreover, I for a fact do remember that night!
I remember seeing The Phantom Menace five times in a single day.
I remember, from all corners of the theater, fans chanted out a count down that would rival any on a given New Year’s Eve. I remember we settled back in our seats, gripped our sodas, popcorn bags, overpriced M&Ms and our stainless aluminum lightsaber hilts and held our breaths as we read the Episode I’s now infamous crawl.
Before I can truly recount that memorable day here, I must first back up even further in time. Let’s just say that night would be the culmination of not only months and months of expectation, but would be the pinnacle of anticipation for any given movie:

From the moment in 1994 when George Lucas announced he was writing and working on the first Star Wars movie in over 10 years:
—to the moment in the summer of 1997 when we heard principle photography had begun;
—to racing to the mailbox anxiously looking for and reading the next issue of Star Wars Insider (formally known as the Lucasfilm Insider);
—to the moment I logged onto StarWars.com for the first time to learn the name of the movie we had only known as Episode I for the last year and a half;
—to watching the first official teaser trailer attached to a ridiculous movie called Water Boy in 1998;
—to having my extremely slow Pentium II computer downloading that very same trailer over a 56K modem;
—to setting the VCR (DVRs had yet to be invented to my knowledge) to record Entertainment Tonight to get my first official copy of the trailer that I could watch over and over again on my 27 inch RCA television and nearly wearing out the video tape;
—to researching and sitting at a sewing machine in efforts of creating my very own Jedi costume;
—to sneaking out of work on an extra long lunch hour so I could stand in line with friends to purchase tickets to a movie that wouldn’t be released for another 32 days;
—to the attendance of Star Wars Celebration at the Wings Over the Rockies Air and Space Museum in Denver Colorado;
—to watching the Duel of the Fates music video in a cool and damp tent;
—to watching TV spots and promos with Samuel L. Jackson on Sci-Fi Channel;
—to the point of sacrificing sleep and rushing out at midnight to buy the merchandise, action figures, sticker books, pez dispensers and “making of” books;
—to careful review and reading of the thousands of magazine articles;
—to the hunger for Star Wars news yet with a strong desire to remain spoiler free;
—to buying four copies of a novelization so I could get all the book cover variants;
—to buying a soundtrack yet not even breaking the shrink-wrap;
—to requesting a day off and trying to explain to my boss that it was all in preparation to see a movie we had been waiting for nearly 20 years.

I remember the first Star Wars Celebration. It’s hard not to when I think back to May 19th. (those details will be explored later) However, it was at that very event, where we, the fans in attendance of Celebration, had all hoped we would catch our first true glimpse of The Phantom Menace. I even recall some of us, in our most wild and incredible dreams, fantasizing GL would allow us to see a rough cut of the entire movie. Nevertheless, those were just fanboy dreams.
Like a whisper in the back of my mind, I sometimes worry that I will forget important details of that day, May 19, 1999, a Phantom Memory cursed to be forgotten. Tuesday May 18, 1999 started like any other. I crawled out of bed and shuffled off to work. As hours ticked away, I became more anxious. Excited more than a 10-year-old boy with a new BMX bike. I distinctly remember spending the day listening to my CD box set of Star Wars (ipods were still a few years away). Co-workers had paraded by my desk to inquiry if I had seen the latest news program or morning show that had featured something on this new Star Wars movie. And like teasing playground bullies, they had to poke fun at me standing in line with my lightsaber.
The hours between leaving work and arriving at the theater are missing in my memory hard drive. I do recall getting dressed in my Jedi robes and arriving to the Aurora Century 16 Theater around 9:30 PM that night. The line wasn’t too long. Although my goal was to get there by no later than 9 PM. Yet, tell that to a wife who was nearly eight months pregnant. Memory serves that there were only about 20 people in line when we arrived. I remember asking the person at the front of the line when they made their stake for the coveted spot. They had mentioned an original arrival time of around 6 PM yet found themselves first so they went and grabbed some fast food and returned around 7:30 PM, still to find themselves first in line. I remember them being much more prepared for their long wait in line than us. They had the laid-back lawn chairs, an ice cooler full of refreshments, magazines and board games to past the time. This was nothing compared to the line of Episode II and III where I recall fans pitching tents not only with comfy chairs and sleeping bags but with electricity to run TVs, DVDs and AC. With my tickets in my pocket and fellow friends joining us in line, we began our wait – a two and half hour wait to what we thought at the time was going to be the best Star Wars movie ever! I can’t recall the specifics of all the conversations we had in line from that night but I do know it very rarely deviated from the subject of Star Wars.
I cannot explain the feeling a grown man gets as he awaits the next big Star Wars movie. It clearly is nearly indescribable. The feeling can only be summed up as a mix of anxiety, fear, sorrow and pure enthusiasm. It’s like the night before Christmas morning. You can’t wait to open your presents yet you don’t want it to happen either as the realization hits you just before you fall into a slumber that the electricity of that anticipation will soon be over. The wait for Star Wars: The Phantom Menace had taken months, years and it was slowly coming to an end.
Although it was ten years ago, I do remember standing in that line. Adjusting my Jedi belt and lightsaber, pulling my Jedi robe closer to fight off a cool evening breeze, my wife complaining of tired feet, the flicker of the theater lights, the chatter of dozens of Star Wars conversations, the moment they opened the doors and we rushed in to a ticket taker ripping tickets and the smell of buttered popcorn.
The time was 11:05 PM May 18, 1999. We had rushed into the theater to pick our seats. Surprisingly enough, we claimed very nice ones. Not exactly center center but close enough. I bought our concessions and took pictures of our friends and family. I may have even proclaimed we would be telling this story to our grandkids someday. The theater had quickly filled to capacity. I remember the theater manager assuring fans that two more theaters were being opened for fans to occupy. The excitement wouldn’t end there. Fans chanted Star Wars. Several challenges for lightsaber combat incurred between costumed Jedi and Sith. Three beach balls bounced around the theater as if at a pool party. Only when the 20th Century Fox logo debuted, did the balls stop floating around the theater. I recall there being John Williams music playing on someone’s boom box. Although I don’t understand why, there were several people reading the novelization. I guess some didn’t care about being spoiled. Yet to me it was like knowing the answer to a question you had yet to think of and ask.
I remember the fans bonded that night like old school friends at a class reunion. You couldn’t recall the person exactly nor knew their name yet you inherently knew them, understood them and respected them.
I honestly remember as the lights went down sometime around 11:55 PM, with only about six minutes remaining to 12:01 AM May 19, 1999. I remember those last few minutes as I had a moment that I can only describe as a life changing moment. Similar to an epiphany, it’s that moment where you within a few minutes or seconds you relive your life up until that event. Not so much like a "life flashing before your eyes" as the experience is a good one vs. a bad one. I sat there in that darkening theater and realized how lucky I was to be sitting there. I was going to experience something I couldn't have ever done before. I was going to see the premier of a Star Wars movie. Who'd would have thunk that I would be writing about it in ten years. I hope to be writing about it in 20 or 30 more years. It was in those few minutes that tears welled in my eyes. I wished for the chance to call my grandmother and tell her about the moment. She has listened to hours of phone conversations of me retelling events that were in that month's Insider magazine. This the woman that bought me my first Return of the Jedi figure. But, I couldn’t as I had lost her to cancer in January of that year, 1999. I felt compassion for Steven Curnow, who wouldn’t be able to watch TPM because his life was cut too short by the events of the Columbine shooting. I suddenly felt fear and joy knowing that in a short couple of months, my pregnant wife would give birth to my daughter. I would be a father for the first time. The realization that not only a era of fandom was ending that a new one was beginning—yet this time I was experiencing it as a grown up.
I remember watching as the 20th Century fox logo faded away into those unforgettable blue letters of “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” I remember the applause and cheers as the Star Wars logo appeared and quickly pulled back to reveal the crawl.
I remember the awe and magic I felt at 2:30 AM as we slowly walked out of the theater. I remember wanting to stay there all night and recount and discus what we had just seen. But, it was the cold realization that we had another screening beginning in less than six hours encouraged us to go home and catch a few winks of sleep. Lucky for my wife and I that we only lived a ½ mile away.
I remember the plan that morning was to drive back to the theater at 7 AM and get in line for the 8:30 screening. I look back on that now and think I was a bit OCD on the whole idea. Apparently, my mind set was the crowd at the 8:30 AM show would be no different from the 12:01 AM show. My wife still reminds me of that error in my judgment to this day.
I remember we arrived at the theater parking lot around 7:15 AM give or take, we found ourselves the only ones there. I remember worrying that maybe my tickets were incorrect and the next showing was not at 8:30. Thus, we sat in the car and waited. We also had time to shake off the effects of too little sleep. It was sometime around 8 AM when we saw a lone theater employee unlock the doors and gave us our signal it was okay to proceeded in. Tickets were purchased weeks earlier so it was just the theater door and us.
I remember buying a couple sodas and that’s it at the concession stand and walking into an empty theater. I remember that the second viewing was just as exciting as the first. Once the credits ended, we had about 20 minutes to move from one theater to another for our third viewing.
It was between our third and forth screening that we had about 55 minutes for a quick lunch which I remember was at Burger King up the street (duh Star Wars promotions). The fourth viewing began promptly at 2:15 PM. And, I remember the day would conclude with returning to the theater at 7 PM that night for one last viewing minus my tired and very pregnant wife.
I had spent May 19, 1999 in a theater, had watched The Phantom Menace so many times I could already quote dialog. And the funny thing was, I still wanted to see it one more time. I remember seeing my wife’s face grimace as I tried to drag her to another showing. Nevertheless, she was always the loving wife and would smile and endure another screening.
Before the summer of 1999 would end, I remember seeing The Phantom Menace another four times. Whether it was on the huge screen of the United Artists Continental Theater or a run down $1 theater with sticky floors and torn seats, I remember enjoying it each and every time. It was somewhere in there I remember hauling a baby carrier into a darkened theater and looking down at my daughter and saying, “you’re gonna love this movie!”
Thus, this brings me back to writing this memoir.
So, last month, I got this idea. The idea was I would go all out to relive May 19th all over again. It would be in my living room and the movie would be on DVD but it would be great in not only spirit but also tribute. I purposely drank caffeine after 9 PM so I could stay up till midnight on May 18th. I pushed play on the DVD at precisely 12:01 AM. I managed to watch the entire movie before heading off to bed at 2:40 AM. I pulled my aching body out of bed at 7 AM and watched it again at 8:30—this time with a doughnut in my hand.
It’s May 19, 2009. I have watched Star Wars – The Phantom Menace five times. Once with the commentary track on. I even watched the “making of” documentaries and deleted scenes. I will admit the day felt different than it did ten years ago. Perhaps because I spent today alone where as ten years ago I was in the company of friends and family. The displays of emotion were missing—there was no laughter, groans of worry or applause at the final credits. Although I did try to recreate them all.
I wonder where the last ten years went. I will tell you that I sincerely miss them. Although I can’t go back, I know I can at least look back on those ten years and say I remember them as good years. As I write these last few sentences, I watch the sparkle in my daughter’s eye as she is enthralled by the lightsaber duel of Qui-gon, Obi-wan and Darth Maul. She is almost 10 years old, watching TPM with her daddy literally for the first time beginning to end. (I brought her up the ol’ fashion way—Star Wars was New Hope, Empire and Jedi first, then the prequels). I look back and wouldn’t trade those years for anything. Ten years have certainly passed and my body certainly feels a bit different but my mind hasn’t aged a day since. Let’s hope I can say the same about the next ten years…or at least entertain the idea of reliving May 16th 2002 in three years!