1977.  I was nine.  My 18 year old sister took me to see Star Wars against the wishes of my parents.  (A few years later, she also took me to get my ears pierced against the wishes of my parents.  We should all be so lucky to have cool older sisters.)

While I admit the scene in which Obi-Wan Kenobi sliced off the dude's arm in the bar in Mos Eisley scared the crap out of me, it was also my first encounter with Harrison Ford, as Han Solo.  Oh, Han Solo.  Yes, I was only nine, but as a budding tweener, not even I was immune to the charms of that incredibly sexy Corellian scoundrel.  

Thus began a 20 year love affair with Harrison Ford.  The early 80's were...heaven.  I could indulge my Harrison Ford obsession every summer.  He made my palms sweaty.  I'd spend every last nickel on any Tiger Beat with him on the cover.  I sent him a birthday card every year.  If I'd had the means, stalking and the resultant T.R.O. would not have been out of the question.

Ah, Harrison.  I loved you so.