ShareThisBy ANDREW A. SMITH
I'm a Star Trek fan, and darn proud of it.
I make this pronouncement on the occasion of the franchise's 40th anniversary _ the original series (ST:TOS in fan-speak) debuted Sept. 8, 1966. I was eight, and I was absolutely blown away.
As an adult, that's not terribly evident. I don't go to the Trek conventions. I don't dress up in Starfleet uniforms. I still haven't seen the last movie ("Nemesis"), and didn't watch the last series ("Enterprise"). I don't read or write Trek fanfic, and stopped buying the novels years ago. I don't even own a pair of pointed ears. So in the hierarchy of Trek fandom, I'm not very hardcore.
On the surface, that is. Internally, though, I absorbed Star Trek at a genetic level. I still get a thrill when I stumble across a rerun from the '60s on late-night TV, with those garish primary-colored uniforms and styrofoam sets. I still tingle when I hear the "Space ... the final frontier" monologue. And I still want to join Starfleet when I grow up.
Why? A lot of reasons, and mine might be different from those of other fans. As William "Captain Kirk" Shatner and Leonard "Mr. Spock" Nimoy recently said to CNN.com about Star Trek's enduring appeal, "The curious thing is, nobody really knows (why it lasted)," Shatner said. "So anything you say is as valid as anything we could say. 'Cause if we knew what it was ... "
Nimoy: "We'd do it again."
So anything I can say about why the 8-year-old Li'l Capn was mesmerized by Trek, why he inhaled it, why he wanted to grow up to live it, is probably only applicable to me. But maybe some of it is applicable to you. So here are a few reasons:
_ Hope: In 1966, the Doomsday Clock was at five minutes to midnight, and nuclear armageddon seemed as likely as not. In the streets, fire hoses and attack dogs were used on American citizens fighting for civil rights. On the news, we watched body bags coming home from some place called Vietnam, where a bloody stalemate was developing. At school, I had to take things like algebra that I couldn't find a use for.
But on "Star Trek," that was all fixed. The mere existence of a 23rd century (even a fictional one) was a comfort, and the philosophy of the show was that we could grow up as a species and learn to live together if we only tried. Our intractable race problems had obviously been solved, as evidenced by Uhura and Sulu as bridge officers _ when elsewhere on TV "colored" women were maids and "Orientals" were buck-toothed stereotypes. As to war, Star Trek showed us that co-opting your enemies was better than fighting them. And algebra? Well, now I knew why I needed it: So I could grow up to be Mr. Spock. (My future wife, watching Star Trek 500 miles away, also wanted to grow up to be Mr. Spock.)
_ The big three: McCoy, Kirk and Spock. Can anybody say Id, Ego and Superego? I didn't know Freudian terms in 1966, but their relationship made intuitive sense, and taught me the process of decision-making.
_ Star tech: On any Star Trek you had cell phones, GPS transponders, wide-screen TVs, personal computers, an Internet at your fingertips, floppy discs for data storage, video screens everywhere and medical beds that automatically monitored a patient's vital signs.
Sure, we have all those things now. But in 1966 ... well, to say they were undreamed of is an understatement. Telephones were things that were tethered to a wall that only Ma Bell technicians could unhook. Audio playback was just entering the 8-track stage. Computers were semi-legendary things NASA used, and they were enormous beasts that used reel-to-reel tapes. Televisions were still in transition to color, and most households only had one, and the biggest had maybe a 23-inch screen. Heck, we didn't even have microwaves or phone-answering machines yet. The most sophisticated machine most people used was a transistor radio.
Except on Star Trek. The 23rd century was one where tech was ubiquitous in daily life and work, from Mr. Spock's tricorder (a Blackberry), to Kirk's communicator (cell phone/GPS), to the Enterprise's data banks (the Internet) and on to Uhura's earpiece (a Bluetooth). That stuff was outrageously silly in 1966 _ to adults. To the 8-year-old Li'l Capn, it was a future devoutly to be wished.
And so it has come to pass. The tech of Star Trek has come into existence, mostly created by Boomers who grew up on the show. The triumph over nuclear war ... well, so far, so good. Race relations? OK, two out of three ain't bad. But we're working on it.
At least, Star Trek fans are working on it. Anyone and everyone who embraced that show absorbed its philosophy, and you'll never meet a more sincere, optimistic and tolerant crowd. Most of them are smarter than average, too. A Star Trek convention is one of the nicest, best-behaved places on Earth.
Which is why I'm proud to be numbered among those fans. Don't call me a Trekker or a Trekkie, as I find both terms condescending and demeaning. (Do we call football fans "footies" or "footers"?) But do call me a Star Trek fan.
And Mr. Shatner and Mr. Nimoy _ whatever it is you gave us 40 years ago, I hope we all do it again. This time in real life. That wise, tolerant and peaceful future, my friends, is the real final frontier.
(Contact Andrew Smith of the Memphis Commercial Appeal at capncomics(at)aol.com or visit www.captaincomics.us/forums.)
