Life lessons learned from 'star wars' | members only

STOP OVERTHINKING AND JUST GO FOR IT Part of the reason we loved _The Empire Strikes Back_ so much as kids is that it made science fiction seem like something anybody with a little free time

and access to a garage full of junk could pull off. The special effects were good, but not that good. A few rubber masks, some spaceship models attached to strings, and anyone could be the

next George Lucas. And that’s exactly what we did. Just weeks after seeing the movie in 1980, my brother and I started shooting _The Empire Strikes Back (Again),_ a “reimagining” filmed

entirely on an 8-millimeter camera. C-3PO, performed by a Michigan preteen, and an R2-D2 droid, assembled from a water bucket and a milk crate, in an action shot. AARP (Courtesy the author,

Shutterstock) Casting was easy. Our neighbor Scott, with his rugged good looks and smug sarcasm, was a natural as Han Solo. Mike, another neighborhood kid, who was one color-coordinated

sweater away from being entirely orange, was an obvious choice for C-3P0. My brother was Luke because he had the shag haircut and, more importantly, he owned the camera. And I played

Chewbacca, not for my hairiness but because of my height. We had no Leia, because we were too shy to talk to any girls. Our finished film — all 20 minutes of it — was a huge hit. We charged

a quarter per head to watch the movie (without sound, mind you) in our family’s basement, and the entire neighborhood lined up for opening weekend. To this day, it’s still one of the best

memories of my childhood. It pops into my head randomly as an adult, particularly during moments when I feel overwhelmed, or paralyzed with imposter syndrome. You’re never too old to think,

“I can’t do this. I’m in over my head. Everybody is going to find out I’m a fraud.” But then I remember _The Empire Strikes Back (Again)_, and how my brother and I made our own shoestring

version of a Hollywood movie, and that it was the reason we finally mustered the courage to talk to girls. If I could pull off that kind of hat trick as a kid, then what the hell was I

worried about in my 50s? IGNORE THE ODDS AND TRUST YOURSELF ​As a kid, I wanted to be Han Solo. He was the epitome of effortless cool. But with the hindsight of age, I’m not so impressed

anymore. Why in the world would anyone want to be like Han Solo? He’s in debt, can’t hold down a job, is always ditching his friends, and has the worst possible response when Leia finally

says, “I love you.” (“I know,” he tells her. Seriously? Try that with your partner tonight and see how it goes, I dare you.) ​But he has one line in _Empire_  that I come back to time and

time again in my 50s. When C3PO tries to warn him about the odds of successfully navigating an asteroid field, he snaps back, “Never tell me the odds.” AARP (Courtesy the author,

Shutterstock) (From left) The author and his brother show off their futuristic outfits and '70s haircuts. ​That's actually good advice. Optimism is more important than obsessing

over what can go wrong. I kind of understood this as a kid, but it didn’t really sink in till I reached adulthood, got married and had kids and was suddenly acutely aware of how much I had

to lose. ​You’ll never understand a line like “never tell me the odds” until you’ve had to wait for biopsy results. LIFE CAN BE COMPLICATED My biggest revelation about _Empire,_ which I’ve

only realized as I’ve gotten older, is its moral ambiguity. The movie has no happily ever after. There’s no satisfying conclusion. The good guys don’t always win. Your mentors will

sometimes lie to you. Your friends sometimes leave. Family is complicated. Love is messy and doesn’t always end up like we expected. It’s basically a metaphor that life can be full of

disappointment and uncertainty, and nothing is guaranteed.