If I could go back in time and tell my expectant parents one thing, it'd be to forget about naming me after the most famous Biblical tax collector of them all and to take a cue from the most famous movie blockbuster of them all (released just 6 months prior to my birth) and name me Luke. But alas, it was not meant to be. My brother lucked out in the name sweepstakes and got Luke as his moniker. But I’m not bitter; so long as he never takes the name for granted, which judging from his own Star Wars fandom, he has not.

As much as my mom claims that she and my dad named Luke after the tortured Vietnam vet of the 1978 weeper "Coming Home," I still think that Luke was named after everyone's favorite Skywalker and my parents kept this secret from me once they discovered that I was born with the Lucasfilm THX gene coursing through my veins. Perhaps one day I'll forgive them. I find it mildly disturbing that as cool as “Cool Hand Luke” was, and as much as Luke Skywalker was ever prescient in the 1979 culture, my parents named my brother after a tortured Vietnam vet.

Although I don't watch Star Wars much anymore...okay, although I don't watch Star Wars as much as I may have in the years between “The Phantom Menace” and “Revenge of the Sith” (my peak of geekdom), I can't really conceptualize what my life would be like without Star Wars.

While some of my earliest memories were of climbing the walls of my house like Spiderman and pretending that my matchbox size General Lee car was actually life size, it wasn’t until I saw “Star Wars” that I truly knew what a hero was. I may not have completely understood the hero’s quest as my siblings and I played Star Wars in our rooms, but I knew that there was something completely unique and important about the quest being played out in “a galaxy far, far away.” My father taking my siblings and I out of school to watch “Return of the Jedi” only amplified star Wars’ importance.

If you knew my dad, taking us out of school to watch a movie was something that NEVER ever happened. My dad used to tell me that the original Star Wars movie was the only movie that he ever stood up and cheered for upon its conclusion. The themes of “letting go” and trusting yourself spoke to him and became themes that he lived by for the rest of his life.

There was always a source of contention between my brother and I over who got to play the part of Luke in our young make-believe playing. My brother had the namesake, but in a child’s mind, it’s all about physical attributes, so naturally, that meant my brown-haired brother should, not play, but be Han Solo, right? I had the blonde hair. I was not much more than 4, so I’m sure I had the whining down pat. I should have been Luke. I wish I could recall the ratio of Luke=Luke and me=Luke, but since when do little children care about equity?

It isn’t until most people get older that they realize Han Solo is actually the cooler character to be. But even if I could jump into some kind of magic time machine, knowing what I know now, I’d still choose to be Luke. Han’s fun and all, but to use a baseball pitching analogy, if you could only choose one person to win one game, who are you going to take? That’s what I thought.

With Luke Skywalker, it’s all about looking into a two-star sunset and wondering what else is out there. It’s wondering whether or not the life you’re living in one worthy of the storybooks that you grew up on. It’s wondering whether you’re destined for larger things, no matter how scary those larger things may appear to be. And when the time comes, it’s about seizing opportunities and making the most of your life.

I didn’t fully realize this at the time, but I can assure you with a high sense of certainty that I would not have been a Marine had I not been such a big Star Wars fan. Looking back at a 1995 version of myself, it all seems so obvious. Here I was, a relatively unassuming 17-year-old kid who knew that immediately going off to college wasn’t an option for me. Do you think that if given the choice, Luke would have opted for the University of Tatooine at Mos Espa over a life of adventure? No. It wasn’t in his DNA and I don’t think it’s in mine.

So while I may have a few misgivings about my time in the Marines, I now know that joining the Marines may have been the greatest single experience I could have ever given myself. I had to take a look at my fears head on and move forward. It’s a lesson that I sometimes forget to take into account in my day-to-day life. And along the way, I’ve met more than my fair share of Han Solos, Anakins, Chewbaccas, and Princess Leias…and yes, even a Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine or two.

In little over 5 months from now, my hero’s quest will re-awaken from its slumber with the arrival of my own Luke or Leia (let’s hope we don’t get the pair). And as I sit here listening to the Imperial Theme play through my iTunes at my work computer, I have many of the same fears and anxieties that I had as I prepared to ship off for boot-camp in 1996.

What kind of father am I going to be? What kind of world are we bringing a child into? Am I up for the task? I’m sure I’ll have some Darth Vader moments ahead of me, what parent doesn’t, but I hope my Yoda moments will vastly outshine any of those teeth-gritting moments that McKibbens are famous for. I can almost see it now, my son or daughter getting ready to step behind the plate. “Keep your eye on the ball. Make contact,” I’ll say. “I’ll try,” they’ll reply. And without thinking about it, I’ll tell them to “do or do not, there is no try.”

The more and more I think about it, and believe me when I say that it’s pretty much all that I think of these days, the more and more excited I become. I am really excited about becoming a father. Becoming a father is one of those things that I feel like I was born to do. And yeah, to be completely honest with you all, it sometimes scares the ever-living crap out of me, but if I learned anything from my Marine Corps experience, it’s this: that which causes the greatest fear and anxiety is the most worthwhile undertaking of them all. It’s the hero’s quest. Who cares whether my name is Luke or not.