MEMOIR:

FALL 2004:

A Satisfying Newbury Lunch
When It Felt Like Home

SPRING 2003:

The Big Boys
The Fine Art of Urination and Defecation Al Fresco
The Golden City
Inside Looking Out
Roxbury
The Soup Game

FALL 2002:

All the Hearts
Footsteps

SUMMER 2002:

Being Family

SPRING 2002:

An Alternative to the Common Use of Forks
Memoir Lead
Two Weeks in New Mexico
Untitled
Zeroes

FALL 2001:

The Anti-Valentine's Girls
Play

SPRING 2001:

Amour de Soi
The Day Music Let Me Go
The Force
Lucky Me, I'm Gifted
My Green Canyon
A Painful Passion
Point of Departure
Sail the Sea
Smile and Nod

FILM REVIEWS:

FALL 2004:

Lola Takes Us For the Sprint of Our Lives

FALL 2002:

Arlington Road: A Thriller with Thought
A Big Fat Fairytale Wedding
Border Patrol: The War Against Drugs Continues
Not the Stereotypical Shoot 'em Up Gangster Flick
Punch Drunk Love

SPRING 2002:

The Complexity of Artificial Intelligence
Monster's Ball
Monster's Redemption
Royalty Runs in the Family

FALL 2001:

A Hard Day's Night: A Rock 'n' Roll Joyride That Never Runs Out of Steam
Too Many Potholes in Riding in Cars with Boys

SPRING 2001:

Requiem's Melody Lingers
New-and-Improved Horror

FEATURES & PROFILES:

FALL 2002:

In The End, Everything is Crystal Clear
A Match for Success
They Will Follow Him
A Very Bostonian Hotel
What's an A?

READINGS:

The CO201 program hosts special Coffee House Readings periodically throughout each semester. These stories have each been selected by 201 professors for reading.

SPRING 2002:

Death and Board Games
Luxembourg
Resurrection of a Ghost
The Tool Man

FALL 2001:

Bits of Daylight
Leona's House
This is Spinal Tap: No Need for Painkillers
The Toad and the Giant

SPRING 2001:

The Movies
Solving the Equation: The Trials and Triumphs of International Adoption
Yaglafant

ESSAYS:

FALL 2002:

Her Face is Red
Smoking a Cigarette
Stories and Lies
Sumit Ganguly: He, She & It

PROPOSALS:

Proposals are group projects in which 201 students propose and create an ad for a non-profit organization or cause.

SPRING 2002:

Christian Solidarity International

CONTEST WINNERS:

SPRING: 2007

Riches to Rags... to Riches
Man of the House
A 'Special Education' Defined

SPRING: 2006

#71952
For Never Was There a Story of More Woe, than This of Mr. Thomas A. Marcello
Pei-yeh Tsai finds harmony in opposites at the keyboard

SPRING 2005:

Colorado Peaks and Iraqi Deserts: A Paramedic's Story
The Consequences of Drunk Driving
America, Open Your Eyes

SPRING 2004:

A Fine Balance: The Life of an Islamic Teenager
A Genetic Link to Identity: Dr. Bruce Jackson and The Roots Project
Rebel With a Cause

COFFEE HOUSE READINGS:

FALL 2004:

The Amah’s Revenge
Circle in the Sand
It’s How I Walk
School Bus

SPRING 2002:

Death and Board Games
Luxembourg
Resurrection of a Ghost
The Tool Man

FALL 2001:

Bits of Daylight
Leona's House
Nonfiction Story
This is Spinal Tap: No Need for Painkillers
The Toad and the Giant

SPRING 2001:

The Movies
Solving the Equation: The Trials and Triumphs of International Adoption
Yaglafant

ESSAYS:

FALL 2002:

Her Face is Red
Smoking a Cigarette
Stories and Lies
Sumit Ganguly: He, She & It

THE FORCE

BY SEAN LAVERY

"Look out Smurfs!" echoed the faint, gruff voice of Papa Smurf from the television. The noise from the TV, combined with the sound of tiny feet banging around the living room and the clattering of a half-full cereal bowl, made it impossible for my parents to sleep. As a child I was generally an "early-riser" but on this particular spring day the excitement brewing in the pit of my stomach woke me before the sun could find its way through my toy soldier curtains.

My not-so-awake father entered the toy-scattered living room to see me kneeling attentively by the television. I was fully dressed and ready to leave the house . . . at 6:30 in the morning. He wasn’t at all surprised. Today was the day I’d been anticipating and boasting about all week. Today was the biggest, most important day of my four-year-old life. Today I would take my first trip to the movie theater. We were going to see Return of the Jedi.

Growing up in the 80’s with an older brother and sister, I became immersed in the captivating "Star Wars Universe." We didn’t have a VCR, so I was unable to watch the movies over and over again, as I surely would have. Instead, I relentlessly searched the TV channels in an attempt to find something to spark my imagination. My imagination could not fathom a movie theater. A theater was as uncharted as deep space.

On this Saturday afternoon I was Luke Skywalker standing on that desert plateau and gazing off into the sky, wondering what lay beyond. Instead of staring at two moons, I was staring at the ticking clock above my television set, wondering what the movie theater would be like.

I was sitting through my weekly Saturday morning cartoon ritual, changing my seating position every ten seconds, when the trailer for Return of the Jedi appeared. I jumped up and began running around in circles through the kitchen and living room, screaming, "Star Wars is on TV! Star Wars is on TV! We’re going to see it today! We’re going to see it today!"

"Uh, no we’re not, Sean," my half-asleep brother piped in. "The movie theater’s closed down. We can’t go see it."

"Yes we are! Yes we are! You’re lying," I snapped back. Not even my brother’s cruel banter could tarnish my day of glory.

Seven hours later my parents, my brother, my sister and I got into our boat-like, brown Monte Carlo and headed for the movie theater. My body was fidgety with excitement, which made it nearly impossible for my mother to buckle me into my car seat. As my dad pulled out of the driveway, I ordered him to "switch to lightspeed," but he ignored me and sustained his crisp thirty miles per hour, which soon had even my mother complaining.

We finally arrived and were forced to wait in line for what seemed like years. Anticipation mounted outside the theater. Everyone in line was busy making last minute guesses as to whom Luke’s father really was and what was going to happen to Han Solo, while I stood there wondering why I hadn’t seen any Star Wars characters yet. I figured I would at least see the Millennium Falcon or an X-Wing in the parking lot. I continued waiting. For the entire ten minutes that we stood in line, I paced back and forth looking up at my father telling him how "awesome" this movie was going to be while simultaneously reciting the long list of food I heard was "needed" for the movies.

When we finally got our tickets and walked into the theater, I immediately asked, "Where’s Star Wars?"

"The movie doesn’t start for another twenty minutes or so," my sister said in an attempt to keep me calm. "It’s this way," she said as she took my hand and led me down the dark, red-carpeted hallway.

I entered the theater with an armful of candy and popcorn. The huge, dim room full of people and the towering white screen startled me. I thought the screen would be like the one my father used for slideshows at home, but this was much bigger. I was also expecting a stage of some sort.

"Luckily there’s still some seats up in the balcony," my father said, "Down here, Sean won’t be able to see."

Lucky I was. We went up to the balcony and were greeted by five empty front row seats. I sat in my seat for as long as I could, but excitement fueled me to search for some sign of the movie, anywhere. One moment I "needed" to talk to my sister and the next there was something "very important" that I needed to tell my father. I was no longer allowed to ask any of my family members where "Star Wars" was, as they were now seriously annoyed with that question.

The lights dimmed, and I knew something was about to happen. My eyes searched around for a second signal, but I saw nothing. My body was as tense and rigid as Han Solo frozen in carbonite, while excitement brewed in my stomach like lava in a ready-to-erupt volcano. When the credits began, I stood tall on my seat, grabbed the balcony wall, and screamed, "Staaaaar Waaaaaars!" as loud as I possibly could. No one in the theater heard the famous movie score because the entire crowd was in a state of uproarious laughter, including my family.

After my outburst I calmed down a bit and began watching the movie, which, as I remember it, was unbelievable. The first image to appear on the screen was that of a giant, gray spaceship hovering towards a half-completed "Death Star."

Though I sat in a trance-like state, completely absorbed by the film, the state of my bladder began to take precedence. I shook my soda cup and heard only a noisy rattling of ice. I forced my father to take me to the bathroom and as we left our seats, he glared at my mother as if saying telepathically, "We’re taking turns."

When we returned to our seats, I lit up at the sight of dozens of creatures roaming around Jabba the Hutt’s palace. I was right behind the bold and defiant Luke Skywalker when he bargained insistently for Han Solo’s life. I could feel the slight draft of the Rancor’s breath coming from beneath my feet. I clutched the arm of my seat and awaited my fate as Jabba spelled it out for me (though I couldn’t read his subtitles).

At one point near the end of the movie, as I watched the Millennium Falcon sail through space to destroy the Death Star, I looked up at my father and asked, "Dad, where do they get the spaceships for this movie? I mean if you’re an actor, like Indiana Jones, do you get to drive them for real?"

"No, they’re fake. It’s a camera trick," he said, trying to shrug me off. He had missed most of the movie answering my questions or taking me to the bathroom.

"Oh," I said, as if I’d known all along. "Well, I want one. I mean I want to make one!"

When the film ended, my family had the arduous task of prying me from my seat as I explained that I wanted to see it again and wasn’t moving.

When I walked out of the theater, my excitement was at the same level as when I’d screamed "Star Wars" so boisterously. I kept saying, "That was so awesome; that was so awesome!"

"I can’t believe Darth Vader is a good guy now!" my brother uttered in his usual sarcastic tone as we approached the car.

"But those spaceships and the Ewoks and…and Jabba the Hutt! It was awesome!" I exclaimed as if just witnessing a miracle.

"I don’t know. I liked the original better. It had more battles. And besides, I couldn’t even concentrate because I was too busy laughing at you," he said with a smirk.

I blushed a little and, pretending to ignore him, walked over to my father and proclaimed, "I’m gonna be in a movie someday. I wanna be in a movie."

Before my father could respond to my premature occupational decision, my brother piped in with, "Okay, Sean. I’d like to see you try!"

Remembering Yoda’s famous words from The Empire Strikes Back, which I saw on TV, I looked over and said in a serious voice, "Do or do not…. There is no try."