Friday, February 27, 2015

On the death of Leonard Nimoy

I guess every kid has that character that they identify with, and that helps her navigate a confusing world, whether it's Wonder Woman or Harry Potter.
Spock was my character. As a alien in a ship full of humans, he endured taunts about the ways in which his looks and his thoughts differed from theirs. He endured the prejudices of people who thought that because of who he was, he could never understand, or excel, or speak with a voice that others would recognize.
He made mistakes. He learned that his philosophy of reason must serve the greater good, or it was meaningless. He remained himself, even as he came to value loyalty and compassion above all else.
Leonard Nimoy played that character, and breathed life into the outline created for him. It was his life's work, in the end, and in the end that was okay with him. And the thing is, if you go back and watch those terrible, hokey, hopelessly dated shows, the one thing that strikes you is that Nimoy is completely believable, every single second. Spock is still alive. Spock will always live, because of him.
Such is the power of our childhoods, that they still from so far away can charge so close. And this morning mine leaves me a 54 year old woman, crying at her desk for a man she never met and never knew at all.
It is not logical, but it is, nevertheless, quite true.