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I don't remember how I first came to love Star Trek: TOS, because it seems as if I have ALWAYS loved it. I have vague memories of watching it on TV with my dad when it was first broadcast. I remember watching it on one of the "lower" (or maybe "higher"?) channels way before cable TV was a thing...it was UHS, I think, and you had to live close enough to a big city (we did, Miami was close enough) and have a decent antenna in order to get even a grainy, static-filled screen.

I remember watching Star Trek in syndication--over and over--even the awful episodes (Spock's Brain, anyone?) until I had most of them memorized. I've told you before about the game I played to try to guess the title of the episode from just the teaser at the beginning--and being right most of the time.

I still love Star Trek, it has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. I know I drove my family crazy when I wouldn't attend any event scheduled during an episode-until after the episode was over.

I was reading my Twitter feed when I found out that Mr. Nimoy had died. I am not ashamed to say that I broke down completely--sobbing into my hands. It was spontaneous and overwhelming to think of this world without him.

(I had the same reaction when DeForest Kelley and James Doohan died, only it wasn't as violent as today. I was sad when Gene Roddenberry passed, but I had heard enough about his shenanigans that his death didn't affect me as much as the others.)

Like many other fans, Spock was one of my very favorite characters in the series. The Kirk/Spock/McCoy friendship was a fantastic example to me and the world of how strong men can bond so tightly together, and obviously love each other, without losing their masculinity. And in those days, it was not something that men or boys did. Males showing softer emotions was scoffed at and often mocked. Star Trek had a part in showing that men do have softer emotions and it's okay to embrace them.

The Spock character helped me in so many ways during my life. When I was a teenager still living at home, my mother and I did not get along (we still aren't what I'd call close). This would often result in her yelling (screaming) at me. I used Spock to remain stoic in the face of those attacks. I would do multiplication tables in my head, like Spock did in the episode The Naked Time when, after he was infected with a virus, he begins to lose his grip on his emotions--much to his horror. Spock hides in a briefing room and breaks down. He fights the effect of the virus by reciting multiplication tables. It worked for me, enabling me to hold onto my own anger and remain "stone-faced". (This had the added benefit to teen me of making my mother angrier.)

When I was still married to the abusive asshole, I also used my "Vulcan training" during the worst of it, blocking out the horror and focusing my mind elsewhere.

Spock, in the person of Leonard Nimoy, was there for me during all of the worst times in my life. He didn't know it, but he helped me survive so many times.

Now, he's gone-and no longer in pain (he had COPD you can make a donation here.), but selfishly, unreasonably, I really wish he was still here. On Twitter, he once told his followers that he would be happy to be everyone's grandpa. His last Tweet : "A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP".

Someone on Twitter said they thought he was trying to prepare his fans...that he knew his time was near...if you read his tweets, I think that person is right.

I stayed home from work today--not feeling well mentally--and it's a very good thing, because I can't stop crying. Which may seem like a stupid over-reaction to some people, but I don't care. I feel like I've lost a friend--and that sounds ridiculous, because--duh. Yet, that's how it feels to me.

I have to learn how to live in a world without Leonard Nimoy in it. It's going to be so hard.

To Leonard Nimoy, wherever you are, thank you for being there when I needed you in the form of Mr. Spock.

Live long, and prosper.



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My Aunt Nancy in CT died this morning. She didn't even make it out of the hospital to her home.

My sister was in route to the hospital. She didn't make it in time.

My father is devastated, as I knew he would be. I've spoken to him twice today.

So are we all. She was one of the good ones.

Now, she's with her parents and friends, drinking beer, smoking and playing cards.

I'll miss her.