In early 1980 my dad was sick with esophageal cancer. He wasn't at the point where he was bed-ridden yet, but I think it can be safely said that time was of the essence.
In an effort to share limited time, He decided to take me to the movies.
In the fall of 1977, He took a clan of us to see "Star Wars" at the Keno outdoor theatre. I don't need to go into too much description of the awesomeness of that. I barely remember that screening, but I sure as hell recall the effect it had on me and so did my dad's wallet. For many reasons. Reasons I wish I still owned.
I think with this new film, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, he was hoping for something close to the same thing.
Even to fans of the legendary television series, the first film of the "original cast series" is seen as a bit of a slog. It is a bit overlong, a bit quiet in tone, a bit melancholy, and a lot cerebral. Not to say it's pure garbage, it's a quality movie, it just wasn't a thrill a minute. For an 8 year old kid and his tired, ailing dad it probably wasn't a great choice. That fact wasn't either of our faults, as it was a damn Star Trek movie. It did feel more like a very strong episode of its offspring, The Next Generation.
I still have fond memories of the film, despite all that. I vividly recall Ursula Andress speaking of V'ger. It kicked out some decent spaceship effects for its time, and a still intact chemistry between the cast members, all of them back together again after nearly 15 years. Needless to say, I found my mind wandered often during the film, and the old man slept for long periods of it. Often snoring.
But that's okay, heroes get to sleep during Star Trek movies.
After we shook off the doldrums and headed out through the lobby to go home, I spotted something. This was in the days when studios would often supply theatres with "programs" to accompany their "event" films. It didn't happen all of the time, but in this case an oversized full-color booklet was being sold to potential buyers.
I asked Dad if I could have it. If memory serves, he really didn't want to buy the damn thing. I liked the colorful images and pressed him, more than likely a bit whinily. (I know, not a word)
In short, I was an asshole.
And he wasn't. He still bought it for me. As a father, I know this feeling he must have felt in that moment. Despite the fact that this expenditure really is a waste, you love that little person who wants the result of it. And you want to make them happy.
Dad wanted to make the asshole happy. At 8, I knew very little of Star Trek, series or movies. Star Trek didn't have people shooting laser guns at each other, no swashbuckling lightsaber action, there was no Darth Vader, no furry mascots or charming robots. It was thinking man's science fiction that I wouldn't come to respect for many more years through the gateway of that Next Generation series I mentioned earlier. So for all of those reasons, I shouldn't have this book. For those same reasons, this thing means the universe, no pun intended, to me. This man, this hero, tired and ill, loved his son so much that he spent hard earned money to buy something for someone who didn't get it.
Or maybe just to get him to shut the hell up.
Either way, that's love.
My Dad wasn't a hero because he took me to see Star Trek. He wasn't a hero because he bought me a stupid book to go along with it. There isn't enough damn bandwidth here for me to tell you why Bob was a hero.
I miss you, Dad.
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