February 27, 2015
9:48 p.m.

Tonight I'm taking a break from my fear musings. There's something more important on my mind.

Spock has been beamed up.

Leonard Nimoy passed away this morning, and I'm feeling pretty sad. I guess a part of me was really hoping that he, like Spock, might have inherited the longevity of his Vulcan father. But I guess that human gene has been in charge all along.

What a bummer.

My space-travel adventures actually started with "Lost in Space", not "Star Trek". I my defense, I was 5 and Billy Mumy was cute.

"Star Trek" actually started a year later, and I was already primed for more outer space stories. I totally loved Will Robinson, who was a kid smart enough to really contribute to the family's project. That was cool, because I would have loved to be a kid like that. And he had a robot for a friend. Too cool.

But that guy with the pointy ears--he was fascinating! Plus, these guys were not lost, they actually knew where they were and what they were doing. And there was a woman working with them, a woman who was not the mother, not cooking meals and doing laundry. She was a real member of the crew.

The problem was, my parents were on board with "Lost in Space", but not so keen about "Star Trek".
So I didn't really get to watch the program on a regular basis until it went into syndication.

I was the only kid I knew who watched the show in the early 70's. I was generally considered a bit of a weirdo anyway, so I took the teasing with a grain of salt. And by the time I was in High School, I had managed to get a couple of my friends into it.

There were a ton of paperback novels out, and I picked up quite a few over the years between Junior High and High School. I loved the added insight into Spock's history most of all. A three-year-long program really wasn't enough time to develop the characters and their back stories, so the stories were enjoyable.

That said, I never would have picked up a single "Star Trek" book if not for my fascination with Spock. The character was intriguing. Half human, half Vulcan and not really accepted by either...er...race? Entity? Being? Whatever.  It opened up, for me, my first real questions regarding interracial marriage, racial prejudice and intolerance.

Here was this ideal future, see? On board the Starship Enterprise there were men and women of various races--a black woman, a Japanese man, a Russian and a Scot, plus the Captain and the Doctor, who were, presumably, Americans. And they all got along and worked together and no one seemed at all prejudiced against each other.

But Spock was the odd man out. Was he human? Was he Vulcan? Why did it seem necessary for him to pick one or the other? And why was Bones such an ass about it?

The future suddenly didn't seem all that ideal.

So I was about sixteen, and I was thinking, why is it that even when mankind has moved so far into the future and overcome so much that they still have to choose someone to pick on? And why did it have to be Spock? Couldn't they understand how special he was?

I still ask that same question, because human nature still baffles me. No matter our advances, we, as humans, always seem to be looking for the differences between us instead of learning to focus on the many, many similarities.

If I learned anything at all from Spock, it was to search out the similarities and been more accepting. It was and always will be a lesson worth learning.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Nimoy. I thank you for all you taught me as Spock, and for your beautiful poetry. You will be missed.

Live Long and Prosper, my friends.

Good night.