Regarding Wookies

If like me, you are a fan of Science Fiction, then you probably already know that Peter Mayhew passed away on April 30, 2019. He was an actor and best known for his role as Chewbacca in Star Wars.

Like many my age, I first saw Star Wars in 1977. Not "Episode IV" mind you. When I saw it, it was just "Star Wars." We didn't know it was the middle of a tale when we felt those first notes of John Williams' brilliance strike our hearts and race up our spines. 

I sat in awe of the ship--so huge on-screen that Mel Brooks felt compelled to parody it later in Space Balls with a nod to Jaws tossed in. The sounds of a space battle immediately struck a familiar chord. I grew up with Star Trek (huge fan, wanted to be Captain Kirk) and Star Wars laser fire fit right in with my preconceived notion of spacey things. 

Luke Skywalker gazed longingly into the horizon and I felt a kinship. Luke was me, wishing for adventure. Wishing to at last be old enough to be out in the world where things were happening. To be part of something greater. While the idea of being Captain Kirk, in charge of my own ship, enthralled me as a child, I didn't want that kind of responsibility and seeing Luke get off the farm and into space, that, well, that was it. Luke was a kid, like me. Nearly 15 (nevermind that my birthday wasn't until November), it was Summertime, and excitement lay ahead. 

Yeah, I was born a girl, but no one ever said I couldn't be an adventurer. If anything, I was encouraged in that direction by a mom who introduced me to Tarzan. I wasn't told I had to be Jane, so I assumed I could be the one swinging on vines, fighting Nazis, rescuing people. Though my childhood was the 60's and 70's, I never once thought a girl couldn't be anything or do anything she wanted to do. I hated dresses, make-up, fancy shoes. Didn't want that stuff. My sisters wore mini-skirts, ironed their hair, got pierced ears. Not me. Pants all the way. Dresses were the handcuffs to my freedom. Brushed and braided hair anathema. I wanted to be in the dirt, playing with cars and dolls. Yes, I liked dolls because I could act out stories with them, just as I did with the pieces of a chess set when anyone brought out the board. I learned to play, and do well, but that wasn't my focus. After all, I'd read Asimov, Burroughs, Tolkien, and McCaffrey.

I robot. I Tarzan. I dragon.

These stories captured me, held me, and have all my life. When I read, I am those things. Which is why I write.

While I felt like Luke, felt that kinship, wanted to be adventurous like Frodo, what I really wanted to be was like Han Solo. In that Cantina on Tatooine, I met the greatest pirate ever. 

What made Han Solo so great? 

It wasn't his snappy comebacks or his snark. It wasn't his ease with his cool blaster with which he absolutely shot Greedo first. It was the loyalty of his companion. His friend. Chewbacca.

How I wanted a wookie to be by my side, to be my buddy, to have my back! I mean WOW. Huge, hairy and frightening, Chewbacca was nevertheless the best friend Han could have had. They understood one another. They flew together. They were equals through and through. Tarzan led the apes. Frodo was set apart from the other hobbits by the burden he carried. Dragons were awesome but they were either terrifying enemies or knew every thought in their riders' heads. Han and Chewie? The best kind of friends. The best of friends. 

After I saw Star Wars, my brother instantly became my wookie. He could make the noise! I think he still can. Of course, this meant I was Han 'cause baby, I weren't no princess.

Don't mistake me, Leia was kick-ass. She wasn't in awe of Chewie, like I was. She was all, "Get this walking carpet outta my way." That's admirable courage. She saw the bigger picture and knew the stakes long before Han sent Vader tumbling to clear the way for Luke to make the perfect shot.

She saw that there was value in the pirate. She saw Chewie's loyalty and knew it. 

And the pirate was me.

My brother and I got those toys. Look, back then we didn't have computers in our pockets. We had a rotary phone in the kitchen. We didn't have computers in our homes. No desktops or laptops. No internet. I was 16 before I met someone with a personal computer in his house. WHAT?? COOL! Those things? They were Science Fiction, see? So my brother, four years my senior, was willing to play with me. He was the Empire. He was Vader. Heck, we built him a suit with all the buttons and whistles. He bought the helmet. People took pictures of him with their kids at Halloween. I'm serious here. It was a gentler time. A more civilized age--or so I remember. 

It was freaking awesome.

He played with his immature at 14 kid sister and he LET ME BE HAN.

There is nothing like that. 

That's love. We don't play like that anymore, though we do play some video games together. It is often unspeakably sad when things end. But he's still the Chewie to my Han.

So, thank you George Lucas. Thank you, Peter, for bringing such an amazing character to life. Thank you for filling us with heart and hope through words and images that maybe we simple mortals can recognize when we, too, have such timeless, loyal friendships.