Farewell, Mister Spock
Today’s post is a bit shorter and more disjointed than usual because it deals with some terrible news. Leonard Nimoy—Spock—has died. Dammit.
I know that my work runs toward the humorous, but I’ll keep this as serious as possible. I have no idea what to write. I love Star Trek and I always identified with the unemotional characters—mainly Data (I got into the franchise through The Next Generation and it will always be “my” Star Trek) but also Spock. Both were outsiders on the inside, trying to fit in with people whose actions were alien, as “aliens” themselves. As someone with Asperger’s syndrome, for whom social interaction was an intricate puzzle, that appealed to me—I guess you could say I started out as Data, then transitioned to Spock.
It is illogical to grieve. It is especially illogical to grieve for someone as accomplished as Leonard Nimoy—actor/director/poet/musician/photographer. Yet I do grieve, as do millions. Perhaps that is the way it is. Perhaps sometimes we must give in to our illogical impulses. Farewell, Mr. Nimoy.
The obvious sign-off—”Live long and prosper”—seems absurd. Instead, I close with Spock’s last words, “Remember.” And remember we shall.