I'm wearing my Chewbacca T-shirt in honor of my son, Harry, who would have turned 2 today.
Chances are you never got to meet him; we barely did ourselves. But I admired both his tendency to get hungry exactly a half-hour before it was time to eat and his luxurious mane of hair.
Really. He didn't have just a good amount of hair; he had a mop of Charles Ingallsian proportions.
I still think about him every day, and every now and then I wonder if he's messing with me, whether it's a butterfly dive-bombing me just as I walk out the door or the number on my McDonald's receipt being his birthday.
I'll get back to the off-color jokes and pop-culture memories later. Until then, raise a glass, mug or paper-bag-wrapped bottle (depending how your day is going) and toast my favorite Wookiee.