How Harrison Ford became my grandpa

I'm not sure when I first noticed the resemblance. Possibly as early as 2013 when the Ender's Game movie came out, but it was probably around 2015, when all the Star Wars: Episode VII—The Force Awakens hoopla was happening. Harrison Ford was all over the place, in all his silver-haired glory.

In fact, it was the silver hair that finally clued me in to something I hadn't seen before: this man looked an awful lot like my grandpa.

It's true. All of it.

I mentioned the uncanny resemblance to my dad, and he agreed, saying, "He looks a lot like Grandpa Rushton." From his tone, I gathered that he had made this connection decades ago, but I was still reeling somewhat from the realization that one of Hollywood's most recognizable actors looked like someone in my own family. (An uncle and at least one cousin also got the Harrison Ford gene, so his legacy lives on in the Rushton line.) 

The resemblance only grows as Harrison Ford (80) approaches the age my grandpa was when he died (84). This week, I started watching Shrinking on Apple TV, which has been a bizarre experience. My sharpest memories of Grandpa Rushton are from the end of his life, so watching current-day Harrison Ford onscreen is like watching my grandpa live an alternate life, one where he still has Parkinson's but is spared Alzheimer's, and is a therapist into his old age.

What Harrison Ford looks like now.

What Grandpa Rushton looked like then.

Now, you might be thinking that there's some resemblance there. The white hair, obviously. The sort of crooked smile. The similar jaw structure. But it's not like they're identical. 

But that's the funny thing about memory. Our memories change over time, and if you go long enough without seeing someone, you might start thinking you have a special connection to some guy you've never met, simply because he reminds you of someone you've lost.

Malcolm Gladwell did a Revisionist History episode about memory once. He used 9/11, an event everyone over the age of 25 remembers, to illustrate how our memories aren't as reliable as we think they are. 

Researchers conducted surveys of what people remembered about the 9/11 attacks. They compiled their first set of answers a week after the attacks, then again a year after, three years after, and 10 years after. And while people were confident that their memories of that day were accurate, the data told a different story. Often, the accounts from the first week were different from accounts documented years later.

I've seen this phenomena play out in my life. My brother said for years that he got in his infamous bike accident on 9/11. He crashed his bike, the road scuffed up his face, our neighbor rescued him, and then he drank bean and bacon soup through a straw until the swelling in his bottom lip went down.

His telling never seemed quite right to me though, so I dug out my journal from that day and had one of my very first "Well, actually" moments. Because I documented this traumatic event the day it happened, I captured important details my brother hadn't retained—like the date. It was the following Tuesday, September 18, not September 11. He probably just saw the Twin Towers news coverage on TV at our neighbor's house and merged the two events together.

Grandpa Rushton died when I was 18, and I don't remember a whole lot from before he had Alzheimer's. Still, he's a solid presence in a lot of memories of Christmas parties, 4th of July gatherings, and softball games (he had an umbrella hat!).

But sometimes I think I might be merging my memories of Grandpa Rushton with his real-life doppelgänger. Was Grandpa actually a crusty old guy, or do I only think that because some guy who looks like him often plays the crusty old guy on TV? Did Grandpa Rushton actually have a crooked smile, or is Harrison Ford's smile just filling in the holes in my memory? Was Grandpa Rushton really the kind of person who makes snarky comments, or do I just think that because I've seen Harrison Ford make snarky comments in interviews?

It can be hard to separate the two, but I think I've come to a compromise. I have four grandpas now, not three. Grandpa Rushton, Grandpa Jackson, Grandpa Bill . . . and Harrison Ford.

What the fandom wants, the fandom doesn't always get

Nine years is a long time to pine for something. And once you're given the thing you've been pining for, it's impossible to not be disappointed in some way.

Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life is a case of fans getting what they asked for, if not what they wanted. At least not everything they wanted.

Obligatory spoiler warning.

I was one of those fans who went into Thanksgiving thinking, "I get to watch new Gilmore Girls episodes tonight!" Even my family was on board, happily willing to replace our traditional Thanksgiving weekend Lord of the Rings marathon with Gilmore Girls (the revival graciously gave us two—that I remember—LOTR references as consolation). Watching "Winter" for the first time was, to steal a word from Kevin Porter of the Gilmore Guys, transcendent. The first 15 minutes or so felt forced, but once I got over the jarring sense of being back in uncharted Gilmore territory, that feeling I had yearned for for so long settled in: I was back in Stars Hollow. Whatever discontent was in store, that hour of warm fuzzies would make it all worth it.

I was familiar enough with Amy Sherman-Palladino's writing style to expect some frustration to go along with the delight. ASP isn't one to give us cake without serving it with a side of prunes.

The revival has its beautiful moments, some of the best of the entire series. Everything involving Emily is flawless (and Lorelai, too, for the most part). Richard's death was handled beautifully. Some of my favorite Kirk moments ever happened in these new episodes, and my stance on Jess went from Team Still Harboring Resentment Toward Season 2/3 Jess but He's Probably Still Better than Logan to Team Jess Is Too Good for Rory—Stay Far Away and Marry Someone Decent Like Mandy Moore.

The revival also has its problems, the most unforgivable being time. The whole point of the revival is to finally see the ending ASP had envisioned, but with nine years between the season 7 finale and "Winter," the story ASP has been harboring all these years doesn't quite work. Everyone is in the exact place we left them in, which is irritating. The actors all look exactly the same and it would have worked fine to only jump forward a few years, but instead we're supposed to believe that Luke and Lorelai waited nine years to have the "fresh kid" conversation and to get married just so we could see it, that Rory would still be trying to figure out how to adult even though she's in her freakin' 30s. (Netflix's lack of episode length restrictions also stuck us with time-wasters like the Stars Hollow Musical and another dumb Life and Death Brigade escapade.)

But what I think fans wanted more than anything was this: closure. Thanks to Rory being the Absolute Worst and those infamous final four words (which were, to Alexi Bledel's credit, delivered perfectly), that is exactly what we didn't get.

From a writing standpoint, I love it. The best writing always has divisive characters, and Rory's journey works thematically. But as a fan, I just wanted things wrapped up in a semi-neat bow. In this post-GG revival world, I feel like I'm right back where I started.

Which was probably ASP's evil plan all along.

Manufactured magic: What happened after "all was well"

When the last Harry Potter movie was released in 2011, a lot of people assumed the Harry Potter fandom would finally start to settle down. Of course, those of us who live and breathe the books knew better; no way was the lack of new material going to temper our passion.

And we were right. Potterheads are as dedicated as ever. We still go to conventions. We still read and discuss the books. And the original Harry Potter generation is already introducing this incredible story to their kids. (I'm resigning myself to the fact that my kids will probably hate Harry Potter just because I love it, because rotten kids tend to get their just reward when they pass on their genes. My only hope is that I came around to Lord of the Rings eventually, and Chris Pine managed what my parents earnestly tried but could not do—get me to enjoy a Star Trek movie.)

In fact, it turns out that we weren't done getting new Harry Potter material. In just five years, we got Pottermore, tons of information on the Harry Potter world and even some on the North American wizarding school, a promise for at least three movies about New Scamander of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them fame, and a play. JKR invited us further into the world she created (although Potterheads prefer to say "discovered") with her sorting and wand selection quizzes, and even gave us "live" updates on the Quidditch Final in 2014 (spoiler: Krum won). And that's not even getting into theme parks, merchandise, and endless amounts of fan-created content. It doesn't take a business genius to see the money-making opportunities in Harry Potter, so of course people with marketing teams got involved to "give the people what they want."

We drank it all up, and kept demanding more. I'm as guilty of this as anyone.

But after reading Cursed Child (stop reading if you want to avoid spoilers) and getting a sense for how my fellow Potterheads feel about this new branch of "canon," I finally started to see what's happening to the franchise. It's just what the Harry Potter grinches have been predicting for years—continuing a story that has a solid conclusion would only dilute it until it is no longer recognizable. It took Voldemort and Bellatrix having a daughter and Harry being afraid of pigeons for me to see it. JKR's voice, which is what made Harry Potter most special, is slowly being phased out.

The amount of pressure JKR has experienced because of Harry Potter has got to be tremendous. Someone without her talent and sense of humor would probably have had a mental breakdown by now. Passionate fans aren't a whole lot different from gluttonous beasts, and no matter how much information she feeds us, we're never going to be completely satisfied. And those trying to capitalize on Harry Potter's guaranteed money-making powers are even more persistent than fans who just want to know what Moaning Myrtle's middle name is. Warner Brothers and other corporations are going to take the Harry Potter cash cow and keep running with it, whether JKR is on board or not. So she got involved with the Fantastic Beasts trilogy, and signed off on the play. Because she loves Harry Potter too and wants to do right by her fans. And no artist wants to see her creation tarnished by someone else.

But it's clear that her heart isn't into it. Not like it was 10 years ago.

We have no one but ourselves to blame. We wanted more, and we kept getting it—now we're to the point where a writer who is not JKR thought he could get away with having the "canon" Harry Potter say something like, "You don't understand, because you don't have kids" to Professor McGonagall (in an alternative universe, sure, but alternate universes don't belong in Harry Potter anyway).

As I've talked about on this blog many times, I love getting anything Harry Potter related, and I'm not ready to telegraph a "cease and desist" order to JKR. And while the charm, wonder, and—gosh, I'll just say it—magic of the original seven books will always be there, the franchise as it currently stands feels manufactured. Like Squibs trying to imitate the world they can't truly be a part of. Perhaps it's time to start tapping on the brakes. Or—imagine this—let JKR take back her control, even if it means we never get another word on Harry Potter.

What the fandom wants, the fandom gets

Throughout earth's history of human habitation, it's the loudest voices who tend to shape its course. That has interesting consequences in the 21st century, particularly in light of fandom cultures that are like gluttonous monsters continuously fed by paparazzi and internet-theory side dishes.

Netflix is among the latest vying for the knight in shining armor position among fans. It houses most of the TV shows we missed out on but were mildly curious about. It allows for effortless binge-watching. It's responsible for letting us relive our childhoods via a Full House reboot.

Most importantly, it's made one of my biggest fandom dreams come true: Gilmore Girls is coming back! For most GG fans, the reboot isn't about reliving the glory days; it's about getting closure on something that wasn't wrapped up in a satisfying way. Fans have been loudly lamenting that lack of closure for eight years, and finally, the stars have aligned to make that happen.

Sure, this world has got problems, but it's a beautiful place when it makes your frivolous fantasies come true.

Now that I can check that item off the list, I just need a few more things:

• The Harry Potter encyclopedia (no, Pottermore isn't enough)
• Another Harry Potter book (or 12)
• A Harry Potter TV series (come on, let's make this happen)
• A Brandon Sanderson cosmere movie (I'll even let you pick which book to do!)
• A live-action version of all my favorite animated classics (done right, the way Cinderella was)
• For Once Upon a Time to get good again
• For Jimmer Fredette and Tyler Haws to do extremely well in their respective careers and somehow end up playing for the Utah Jazz together, preferably coached by John Stockton and Karl Malone
• For BYU to win all the championships

Oh, and one more thing:

• A Gilbert Blythe for me to marry

What the fandom wants, the fandom gets.

35 ways to celebrate Harry Potter's birthday

I often celebrate Harry Potter-related dates more enthusiastically than I do Muggle holidays. Halloween is a day to mourn James and Lily, not go to wild parties. April Fools' Day calls for birthday cake commemorating Fred and George's birth, not pulling obnoxious pranks on our coworkers.

So Harry Potter's birthday, in my opinion, should be an international holiday. And here are 35 ways to celebrate it (in honor of Harry's 35th birthday).

1. Don't go to work.

2. Go to Harry Potter World.

3. Eat at the Three Broomsticks.

4. Drink frozen butterbeer until you either die from a brain freeze or go off on a sugar high.

5. Then eat a chocolate frog.

6. Actually, eat lots of chocolate. There are Dementors out there.

7. Write an article about someone, Rita Skeeter style.

8. Or, hand-write a letter to someone you haven't seen in a while. 

9. Play a game of Quidditch.

10. Orchestrate your own Triwizard Tournament.

11. Catch up on Pottermore.

12. Read as many pages of the Harry Potter books as you can.

13. Or, watch as many of the movies as you can in fast motion.

14. Take a bath with a giant golden egg.

15. Take a nap in a cupboard, preferably one under the stairs.

16. Walk up to someone and say, "I see thestrals."

17. Show off your House pride.

18. Or, have a Sorting ceremony.

19. Find someone who hasn't read Harry Potter (an arduous task) and convince them to read the books. You'll change their life.

20. Wear mis-matched socks.

21. Visit Platform 9 3/4. That's in London.

22. Dress up as your favorite Harry Potter character, even if it's the Whomping Willow. Especially if it's the Whomping Willow.

23. Take your wands off your display case and have a duel with someone.

24. Wish J.K. Rowling a happy birthday.

25. Send your favorite teacher some crystallized pineapple.

26. Look something up in the library instead of on the internet.

27. Every time someone tells you to do something, say "My father will hear about this."

28. Play the Harry Potter trivia game you made.

29. Pretend you're Arthur Weasley and get excited about rubber ducks and escalators (I mean, escapaders).

30. Tell Microsoft to stop underlining Harry Potter terms like Patronus and Dementor.

31. Write an essay about why Muggles need electricity.

32. If you haven't already, contemplate on what your Boggart or Patronus would be.

33. Refer to every girl's bathroom as the Chamber of Secrets.

34. Say "Expelliarmus" every time someone challenges you in any way.

35. But most importantly, get into mischief.