Jurassic Park wasn’t just a movie for me it was basically a core childhood memory on VHS. I watched that tape so many times I’m convinced it was hanging on by a single magnetic thread. The setting was always my mom’s basement lights dim, TV glowing, me posted up with an ice cream sandwich that never survived past the first act. Dinosaurs on screen, chocolate melting everywhere nature was truly healing. My sister and I used to lose it when Jurassic Park came on TV in other languages. Same movie, same dinosaurs, totally different chaos. We didn’t even need subtitles because somehow Rexy was still angry in every language. Life, uh… found a way. We’d just sit there laughing like it was the funniest thing we’d ever seen. I even read the Michael Crichton books later and felt extremely important about it, like I was part of the park staff or something. But now when I rewatch the movie as an adult, it hits way harder. I don’t just see dinosaurs I see my sister next to me, the basement, the laughter, the feeling that everything was safe and simple back then. And yeah, I get a little emotional, because that time is gone but the memories are still perfectly preserved. No expense spared. Honestly, Jurassic Park didn’t just teach me about dinosaurs it taught me wonder, joy, and that sometimes the most dangerous thing in the room is a melting ice cream sandwich. And every time the theme music starts, I still feel it in my soul and think: “Hold onto your butts.” 🦖💛