Finding “Home” in Star Wars |

When we think of our favorite Star Wars characters, we generally think of their travels and adventures rather than their domesticity, or lack thereof. But the idea of “home” has been on my mind a lot lately, and my ruminations on the state of my own home have led me to wonder where “home” is for the heroes of Star Wars.

To give you some context, I moved out of my childhood home as soon as I was old enough, and I have moved three times in the last five years (with another looming in the next year or so). To complicate things, I have been struggling with depression for some time now, and at my lowest points I sometimes find myself wanting to just “go home.” But in those moments, dismay inevitably follows as I realize I don’t know where “home” is anymore. Perhaps it’s been on my mind even more as I have, for two months now, traveled the length and breadth of the U.S.A. on an extended road trip. While not quite the “world tour” Mike Rondeau dubbed it, by the time I end my trip I will have driven almost 10,000 miles visiting family and friends, living from guest bedroom to guest bedroom, couch to campsite to hotel, constantly moving. Though I am back in my own country for a time (I live in Japan), I am living as a vagabond. But it seems to me most of our Star Wars heroes, too, are vagabonds. Leia’s planet of Alderaan was destroyed, and the Senate was dissolved. Luke left Tatooine, and Han, too, left Corellia. And Chewbacca, presumably, was taken from Kashyyyk, and we know he rarely returns. At least our Prequel Trilogy Jedi had a kind of home on Coruscant at the Jedi Temple. But they, too, would have mostly come from all over the galaxy, having left behind families they would have barely known. And with the Jedi creed against attachments, could the Jedi Temple, or even Coruscant, really have felt like home?

Perhaps we should take a moment to define home. Possibly the plainest definition is “a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.” But “home” can mean so much more than that, right? Another definition reads, “the place in which one’s domestic affections are centered.” I suppose that’s closer to the mark, but there’s still something missing. To me, “home” is a place of safety and comfort. “Home” is a place to which you can always return, a place of belonging and familiarity. A sanctuary.

In Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, we see Han Solo calling the Millennium Falcon “home,” and indeed, we know he has a great love for the ship. But what if Chewbacca decided to go back to live on Kashyyyk, rather than continuing on the Falcon with Han? Would the Falcon still feel like “home?”

Later in the film we see Maz Kanata telling Han to “go home,” but she’s not referring to a specific place so much as a person. Leia. Maz is really telling Han that his home is with Leia, and he should go back to her.

“Han, … go home.”

Conversely, with Luke, it’s when he loses his family that he leaves Tatooine behind. His attachment wasn’t to the place or even the farm, it was to the people. And Rey, when the possibility of her family’s return is rebuffed, she decides to search out Luke, hoping to find a new kind of family, a new place of belonging, a new home.

But this idea is possibly best explored in Chuck Wendig’s novel Aftermath. Norra Wexley, a pilot in the Rebel Alliance’s Gold Squadron, returns to the planet of Akiva to reclaim her son Temmin and take him off-planet. Temmin, however, resists, saying time and again that Akiva is his home and he doesn’t want to leave. Yet, by the end of the novel, having endured many trials and overcoming their difficult estrangement, young Temmin admits to his mother:

“I thought this place was home. It’s not. […] You’re my home. Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll live.”

These few lines of dialogue beautifully illustrate what I have come to realize in my travels. What really makes a “home” isn’t a place. It’s people. While that may sound cheesy or like I’m making a Soylent Green reference, it’s true. With every stop on my trip I was greeted with smiles and open arms. People welcomed me into their homes and into their lives with love and enthusiasm. And though I have no place here I could pinpoint as “home,” it was with these wonderful people that I found that feeling of “home” I’d been missing. And the wonderful thing about it is that my “home” isn’t the static, or even waning, thing I thought it was. It’s alive and versatile. And best of all, it’s growing. Among the smattering of friends and family I have visited this trip, I also had the privilege to meet members of The Cantina Cast family: Mike Rondeau, Becca Benjamin, Tom Burke, Paul DePaola (and his lovely wife, Jenn), and of course, my longtime friend Joao Stinson and his amazing wife, Ashley. With the sole exception of Joao, I was able to meet all these fantastic people for the first time, and it was like meeting up with new, old friends. As weird an oxymoron as that is, it’s the best way I can describe it. Even though I was meeting them for the first time, we shared an instant bond of friendship that, as became quickly apparent, went beyond a simple common interest in Star Wars. With each meeting I found myself wanting to stay longer than my schedule allowed, so much did I enjoy our brief time together.

Left to right: Me, Mike, and Tom

Becca and Me

Joao, Ashley, and myself

I’ve always loved Star Wars, but I never imagined it would actually affect my life in such a positive way. It’s allowed me to begin re-exploring my love of writing, and it’s given me a community, a family, a “home” where I belong – all thanks to wonderful people. And so I must conclude that it is the same for our vagabond Star Wars heroes. Everyone needs a “home,” and I believe (cheesy as it sounds) they found “home” in each other.