Spock, Kirk and Life Lessons

Confession Time: Nimoy and Shatner's Characters As Role Models

As a kid I had some serious issues, that I "cured" with my Star Trek obsession.
First off, I am different. I've got something called a subcutaneous terratoma. It's a little thing, at tiny cyst, hanging around in my left eyebrow. I've had it since birth. Why it wasn't removed early, I don't know. Perhaps the doctors considered it to be cosmetic, and back them there wasn't health insurance to take care of the medical bills, so my parents and doctors just figured I'd live with it.
In school I noticed that I wasn't as perfectly matched on both sides of my face as the other kids were. My left eyebrow always seemed to be higher than the other, giving me a sort of sardonic Spock-like look. Most of the time I forget it's even there, but as a kid, it seemed an insurmountable inequality. I wanted very much not to have to wear my hair to try to hide it.

As a smart kid, or at least one who took her studies in the arts and sciences very seriously, I identified with Spock. I was always referred to as "the egghead", "teacher's pet", and all manner of hurtful things that separated me from the other pupils in my classes. Spock seemed to be the subject of ridicule for the same reasons. he looked different, and he was intelligent.

When my father passed away, I was young - young like Jody Foster's character in "Contact". In fact, the situation was similar. I discovered my dad dying, and did my best to try to get him the help that he needed, even though I was barely 13 years old. It hurts me today to think that if he had the same problem today that he might have lived. As a result of his death, I discovered that I was experiencing crying fits, moments of intense grief, and terrible dreams. I decide to take control. I decided to be Spock.

It had been hard enough dealing with the imbalances of hormones, but being so filled with sadness, I had to do something - to be a rock, to try to think when the rest of my family couldn't, to help make decisions, and to not fail in my schoolwork, I needed to be Spock. I turned off my emotions, or at least maintained calm. I stood like him, arms clasped behind my back. I spoke rarely, and when I did, it was without emotion. For at least half a year, I kept it up, before I got sick of the misery of not having a good time at all.

I decided that I needed a social makeover. That's when I began to watch Kirk, desperately trying to learn to say the right thing, stand up for my friends, make an effort to speak like a kid from Iowa, laid back, cool, and beautiful. In truth, I was beautiful. I'd just returned from a summer "vacation" out in California. I was tanned, three inches taller than I'd been when I left, and had a Californian accent. When I greeted my best friend on the first day of school, she nearly fell down out of surprise. They'd all wondered what happened to me - and when I returned, I was in the peak of health, and ready to take on society. I had to do it to survive. All throughout junior high, I tried to learn from the Captain of the Enterprise. I stood up for myself, sneaked into a classroom to retrieve my beloved Star Trek books from the teacher's desk - even beat up a bully (accidentally). I was changed.

What did Spock and Kirk do for me? They taught me the extremes of personality; the inward and outward versions, the peace of non-emotion, and the joy of being accepted by society. I am greatly saddened that one of my teachers has died, but I will carry on. Though I don't think of myself as the "adventurer" that Kirk was anymore, I still dream about going into space. Perhaps one day I wll, when I'm 80. My one comfort is that I know that when I do finally suffer dementia, I will be the silly old lady in the corner who thinks she's Captain Kirk, on the Enterprise. It would be a sort of paradise for me. I can't wait.