Standards of living They're rising daily But home oh sweet home It's only a saying From bell push to faucet In smart town apartment The cottage is pretty The main house a palace Penthouse perfection But what goes on? What to do there? Better pray there
~ "In Every Dream Home a Heartache" by Roxy Music
I know that I included the video of this in a recent post, but I'll include it again at the end for reference.
This song is intriguing to me. On the surface, it seems to be a song about an inflatable doll (well before The Police did it with "Sally/Be My Girl"), and the lines "I blew up your body/But you blew my mind" are way too much fun and always make me laugh in a rather uneasy way. It's a disturbing song, made even more so by Bryan Ferry's menacing, unblinking delivery.
But as I continued to read more about them, I realized there's a lot more to it than that.
Ferry studied art at University of Newcastle and one of his instructors was pop artist Richard Hamilton. One of Hamilton's early works was titled "Just What is It That Makes Today's Homes So Different, So Appealing?", from 1956. It's a collage of images from pop culture and consumerism, and it's considered to be the first widely-acclaimed piece of Pop Art. Hamilton's goal was to show the emptiness at the heart of rampant consumerism and obsession with objects.
Ferry revisited that theme for this particular song. It's about the disconnection in modern society: a perfect home but the only thing the owner can manage to find as companionship is an inflatable doll. Has he been driven mad by his lifestyle and ambitions? It would seem so. He is obsessed with his immortal and life-size companion, dressing her up, floating her around his new pool, but she ultimately betrays him by not giving him whatever it is he thinks he needs. She's as empty as the man's life. As Ferry himself said about the song, it's about "a guy who has everything but has nothing."
So there is a direct connection between Bryan's art degree, a seminal work of Pop Art, and the rock song that is the subject of this entry. A fusion of art and fashion and music and societal commentary, which is exactly what Bryan's goal was in starting the avant-garde art-rock group that became Roxy Music.
I'll cop to being an avid consumer (most recently of Roxy/Bryan albums and books) and there's no denying that I have my own obsession when it comes to them. But as long as I can justify it with deep thoughts about the songs, I figure I'm learning something along the way! That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I don't want to be "that person" who shouts at clouds about how no one makes good music anymore. That's really not the case, anyway. But I think there's no denying that Roxy's/Bryan's songs have a deep cleverness to them that is missing from much modern music. Not everything has to be social commentary, of course. Sometimes you just need to get your ya-yas out. But I'll take a clever song that makes me think about a deeper meaning any day, even if it's about an unwell man's disturbing love for his "plain-wrapper baby."
Sometimes you find a yearning for the quiet life The country air and all of its joys But badgers couldn't compensate at twice the price For just another night with the boys oh yeah And boys will be boys will be boys
"Editions of You" by Roxy Music
As I mentioned at the close of the last record (a little Tubes reference for you there), Roxy Music is often considered to be one of the premier proto-punk bands. While I don't hear a lot of that in their music itself (they're much more refined), their DIY attitude was definitely punk. If any of their songs comes closest to a punk sound, I think it's "Editions of You."
I see it in the rapid-fire lyrics and the frenetic pace of the song. And the fellas themselves are in fine form. Let's go to the video!
First, we've got Bryan Ferry in full Lounge Lizard mode, running around the stage like someone just zapped him with a Taser. Andy Mackay's shakin' those maracas, Eno's shakin' that tambourine. Andy tosses the maracas to who knows where and there he is in his demented space alien outfit blasting out a sax solo while Bryan pounds the keys.
Then we immediately switch to Eno, who is decked out in that famous peacock feather jacket, workin' his synth, swiveling those hips.
Then we slam right into a blistering guitar solo from Phil Manzanera.
All the while, The Great Paul Thompson and John Porter keep the rhythm going with drums and bass respectively.
After some rapid fire drums from Thompson, we're back to Bryan. He sings another chorus and with a "this way!" he prances across the stage to do his own one-handed synth solo (no, that's not a euphemism for anything). He hurries back to his mic to sing the final lines, Eno tosses his tambourine also to who knows where (maybe the same place Andy's maracas ended up), Bryan ends with one last "you-hoo-hoo-hoo-oooo," the band winds it up with a couple of shots and Bryan looks like he gets walloped in the head, and...just like that, we're done.
The first time I saw that, some fifty years after it was first performed, I thought, "I don't know what the fuck I just watched but I think I'm in love!"
Honestly, it's an absolutely bonkers performance and I can only imagine what it was like to be in the audience for something like that.
You know that hypothetical question about if you could go back in time, where and when would you want to go? My answer to that used to be the library at Alexandria, but my new answer is one of Roxy Music's early gigs somewhere in England.
As I think about it, that in itself was rather punk of them. They were a shock to the system of the staid singer-songwriter template, ballads, and more traditional rock tunes. A few short years later, punk rock would poke a fat finger in the eye of the music establishment.
It's been well over two years since I've written here. I've been through some shit during that time. Some of you who know me know exactly what shit I'm talking about. I don't care to elaborate here at the moment. Suffice it to say that it's been a difficult time.
However, I've learned that as tough as I've always thought I was, I was even tougher than that. And as always, music saved me.
I was sitting at the computer one night, feeling a little aimless, going through the motions of my regular life, one that had changed so rapidly a few months before. I was watching a video of something and when it ended, a suggestion popped up for me.
It was "Mother of Pearl" by Roxy Music.
Of course, I knew about Roxy Music. Anyone who truly loves rock and roll does. I still have my 45 of "Love is the Drug," a song I loved back then and still love. But I had never gotten into them the way I had other bands. When you grow up in a small Midwestern town, you don't get a lot of exposure to certain bands, and Roxy was much more popular in Europe than they were in the States.
So I watched the video and was utterly mesmerized. I watched it again. And again, growing more enchanted with every viewing. 'Enchanted' is the correct word, too. I felt as though I'd had a spell cast over me. I remember thinking, "Jesus Christ, where have you been all my life?!"
And thus was born an obsession.
Many of you know what a Fangirl I can be, and when I Fangirl, I Fangirl all the way. I immediately began to do research. That's really what it was, too, because I wanted to learn everything I could about this amazing band that had escaped me for far too many years. I bought CDs, vinyl, DVDs of performances, special editions, and books. I've read four of them and have about that many more to read. As I work on putting up different artwork in the house, I ordered a bunch of prints of frontman Bryan Ferry, because there's no denying that he is one of the most iconic figures in rock history. (Kind of nice to look at, too.)
It has become a months-long passion that has given me focus and joy. I was reasonably certain that I hadn't lost those things, but they were buried under some pretty major emotional upheaval, and Roxy unearthed them. It felt so good to find that passion again and it's no surprise that it was music! It was a surprise that it was a band whose first release was in 1972, but ours is not to reason why. Just hand over the passion and nobody gets hurt, okay, pal?
If I can keep up some writing on here, I'll have more to write about individual songs (including the one that sparked the fire), but for now, I'll write briefly about the band itself and how influential they are.
They're widely considered to be a glam rock band, but they really aren't that at all. I think they got labeled with that because of their early, flashy stage looks: feathers, sequins, platform shoes, makeup. They were absolutely visually stunning, there is no doubt about that, but on their own terms, with no conforming wardrobe rules. (See: Bryan Ferry's iconic tuxedo jacket.) They're also considered to be one of the precursors of punk, but as I took a deep dive into them, I didn't hear that in much of their music.
What was definitely punk about them is that they embodied the punk ethos of DIY. Guys who weren't technically great musicians (except for Andy Mackay, the oboe/sax player, who studied music) but decided to learn on the job. Bryan Ferry taught himself to play the piano (just like me!) and had the novel idea of blending his art school training with music: making music as a work of art, a sort of performance art. It's no surprise that one of their biggest influences was The Velvet Underground.
Ferry studied under the pop artist Richard Hamilton at the University of Newcastle, and when I looked up Hamilton, I found that many of his works were modernist collages: a way of looking at pop culture and consumerism, the conveniences of modern life but also the emptiness and vapidity. As I dived deep into Roxy's songs, I found that many of them are collages themselves, combining different types of music, different tempos, different feelings altogether. It's been fascinating to me to think about the art/music connection. Roxy itself was a bit of a collage: from the early days of surreal and wonky experimentation to the middle days of more straight-up rock to the final smooth and timeless pop songs. You can break it down to the "For Your Pleasure" era, the "Siren" era, and the "Avalon" era. All very different sounds, but the same core players (Ferry, Mackay, guitarist Phil Manzanera).
Roxy's influence on other bands is beyond extensive. Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols named his first band The Strand, after a Roxy song; Souixsie and The Banshees are named after one of Bryan Ferry's college bands, The Banshees; Bananarama got their name from the Roxy song "Pyjamarama"; they are one of Duran Duran's biggest influences; one of Roxy's songs, written by Ferry, is "2HB," an homage to Humphrey Bogart, and Madness recorded a song called "4BF," an homage to Bryan Ferry; Cousin Shane's current band obsession, The Killers, has said that Roxy is one of their biggest influences.
To say that Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music changed the face of music is no exaggeration. They were resented by many musicians and music journalists at the time because they seemed to explode on the scene so quickly. It had been widely accepted that the proper protocol was for bands to "pay their dues" by touring extensively for years, playing small clubs and colleges. Roxy upended all of that, saying, "No, we want a record contract right away," and amazingly, through doggedness and sheer ballsiness, they got it. Their debut album, self-titled, went to #10 on the British charts, which was astounding for a band that had only recently started out.
Their presence and innovation was influential then and is just as influential now. And here I am, 50 years later, their music saving me from an ongoing dark night of the soul. While there is still a heartache in my dream home, Roxy and Bryan Ferry eased that heartache considerably, pushing it aside with passion and joy at the "discovery" of this truly amazing band.
Some of you may have figured out by now that I'm a big Duran Duran fangirl. Shocking, I know, but it's true! I love them madly and I love taking deep dives into their music. They all share songwriting credits, but Simon is the poet in the bunch. His lyrics are beautiful, evocative, and often cryptic.
The other day, I was giving the 1988 album "Big Thing" yet another listen. It's one I like a lot, with the club grinder "All She Wants Is" and the beautiful songs "Do You Believe in Shame" and "Palomino."
But when I listened to it the other day, the song that absolutely blew my mind was "The Edge of America." I sat and listened to the lyrics. Then I put in my earbuds and listened again. I pulled up the full lyrics to read and listened again, then found a great live version (included at the end of this post).
As I sat and listened, I felt a chill run down my spine. They released this song in 1988, but it feels like they were writing about what is going on in this country (and John Taylor's adopted one, at least part-time) right here and now. Take a look at the full lyrics.
The Edge of America (written by Duran Duran)
Walk the edge of America
A concrete beach to scrape my hand
Inside the subway stinking fear and shame
Becomes the violent breath
Vigilantes out on dawn patrol
But now there's nothing left to hide
I'm just a number on the metal fence
Which marks the great divide
Hey boy
Give your dreams a rest
If you're tired of searching
This is where it ends
There's nothing left to lose
Nothing to protest
Learn to love your anger now
Anger here is all you possess
Welcome to the age
Below the towers of the citadel
Seems someone overlooked the cost
Forgotten soldier of paradise
Now paradise is lost
Recognition never realized
Salvation lost among the crowd
So tell me beside this sterile sea
Where is your nation now?
And we say
Hey boy
Give your dreams a rest
If you're tired of searching
This is where it ends
There's nothing left to lose
Nothing to protest
Learn to love your anger now
Anger here is all you possess
Welcome to the edge
I'm not sure what was in their minds in 1988 when they were writing this, but doesn't it feel pertinent to 2022? Sometimes I feel that we're on the edge and with every new finding from the January 6 Committee, we're understanding how perilously close we came to falling off.
I still feel a visceral horror when I watch footage of those people storming our Capitol building and I feel deep-seated anger that there were people in the previous administration who were cheering it on. Not to mention any names. AHEM. Some are trying to say it was "just a protest" and no big deal. One Republican said the rioters were tourists. It's been a year but I haven't forgotten one moment of that. They were not tourists, it was not just a protest, and yes, it was a very big fucking deal.
Don't try to gaslight us.
Soon we'll have public testimony before the Committee and they'll release their report after that. I suspect there will be some referrals to the Department of Justice, although I'm not sure how high up they'll go. You-know-who is promising to pardon the insurrectionists if he's reelected. It is within our power to ensure that does not happen and that all those responsible for that dark day are held accountable to the full extent allowed by the law.
Anger may be all that they possess. Anger at their "country being taken away" from them, with all the implications that carries. We have more than that and let's not forget it.
If you’d like a glimpse into the inner workings of my brain, behold the genesis of an obsession.
It begins with Christmas. I need to wrap presents. Anyone who knows me even slightly knows that this is an odious and tiresome task for me. In order to entertain myself, I make myself a cocktail (or two) and watch something on TV that makes me happy. In past years, it’s been episodes of “The Walking Dead,” other years it’s a Stephen King movie, sometimes it’s “Game Change.”
For this year’s viewing pleasure, I chose the movies “The Mummy” and “The Mummy Returns,” the ones starring Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz (and Oded Fehr, but we’ll get to him in a moment). Not intellectual or historically accurate movies, by any means, but I find them a lot of fun. I’ve been fascinated by ancient Egypt since I read in grade school about the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb. The very first thing I wanted to be was an archaeologist. I love the imagery, the mystery, and the history. Adding a bunch of adventure, romance, and intrigue into the mix makes for a very fun movie for me.
I wrap, I drink, I watch. I’m struck all over again by the aforementioned Oded Fehr as Ardeth Bay. And his incredible hair. I begin to look things up about the actor and remember that he is now a member of the “Star Trek: Discovery” cast, playing a Federation Admiral. A mini-obsession is born. A black and white picture of him is now my phone’s lock screen and wallpaper. A photo of him in a tub is now my Facebook cover photo. To give him credit for things other than being hawt, he appears to be a truly nice human being, smart and funny and devoted to his family. Awww! Good Guy Oded Fehr!
Among other discoveries, I find out that he was born in Israel, but in the movie, he plays an Egyptian. Leader of the Medjai…black robes, scimitars, and in his case, a spectacular head of hair.
So I begin to listen to Egyptian music. I’m captivated. It sends my imagination soaring. An ancient procession, perhaps a sacred burial. A taverna with belly dancers. The glare of the hot sun, a camel ride, a trip down the Nile.
Then I begin to investigate the cuisine in Egypt and the Middle East. I find out that there is a local restaurant that offers up that sort of fare and we resolve to go try it out soon. It sounds like I would love it. I decide I should conduct kitchen experiments and make some of this cuisine. So I begin to investigate recipes and learn that there are spices and spice mixes that I need if I want to make this. I investigate cookbooks and find one that sounds basic enough for a beginner to the cuisine. I order the cookbook. I search for the “must-have” spices. I order the spices.
As I immerse myself in this, I begin to think about how my dream vacation has always been one in Egypt. My sister did it; I can do it, too. I inform Ken that while we need to wait for things to settle down with Covid, this is something I want us to plan for.
I want that glare of the hot sun, I want that camel ride, I want that trip down the Nile.
I want to see the pyramids.
I don’t do the bucket list thing, but if I did, this would be on it. Life is too short to not see these wonders, especially when I’ve dreamed about something like this since I was a kid. It also gives me something to look forward to, something to plan for…because this winter is shaping up to be a real shitshow, with another Covid wave. I’m getting antsy to travel.
So there you have it. An obsession that starts with wrapping Christmas presents, focuses on Oded Fehr and his hair, then meanders to culinary experiments, and finally ends on eventually planning a trip to Egypt.
My thought process is convoluted, but it’s fun! What do you think, Ardeth?
In a clear case of ‘I’ve got too much time on my hands,’ I looked up my ex-husband on Facebook.
I knew nothing good could come from it, but I did it, anyway. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, doncha know?
The initial findings were rather disgusting to me but it led to some genuine introspection about what exactly happened there and I realize how utterly miserable I’d have been if I’d stayed. So I turned something rather stomach-churning into something that didn’t make me hurl in disgust and anguish and humiliation, so I guess there’s that.
Those who know me well know what happened there. I’ve even written a bit about it on Facebook, so anyone who read that knows at least a little about it, too. The bottom line is that a few years into our marriage he found Jesus. Not just in a quiet meditative way. He found him in a BIG BANG MOMENT kind of way, a fundamentalist kind of way. I have a fairly high tolerance level for someone’s religious beliefs—no, I really do!—but his newfound faith wasn’t a matter of personal growth and learning and a calm and quiet reaching out to others. No, it was more like…
“I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT JESUS AND EVERYONE IN MY ORBIT NEEDS TO BE JUST AS EXCITED AS I AM OR I’M GONNA HARP AT THEM EVERY DAY ABOUT HOW THEY’RE WRONG.”
In case you think I’m exaggerating (some of those close to me know that I am not), he once told me that he thought I was possessed by a demon. I realized just a few years ago that I had blocked a lot of that out, which was a bit of a Revelations to me. (See what I did there?) As I think about it now, I suppose that it was a real shock to my system to realize that while I thought I’d escaped that situation from my upbringing, as a young married woman, I was right back in that same controlling environment with my husband.
That’s a real kick in the ass, so I suppose it’s no wonder that a part of me chose to hide it away for a while. Probably until I was strong enough to remember the details, don’t you think? I do.
Anyway, he was relentless in his witnessing to me as well as his attempts to control me. I was definitely no angel but I wasn’t a total reprobate, either. Just a 20-something woman who wanted to get her ya-ya’s out. I liked to drink and go out to bars and dance and I smoked and I loved rock ‘n roll and I didn’t feel particularly evil about it. For the first two or three years, he was the same way and so was his family. We all had a blast together.
Everything changed when he had his spiritual awakening. His main goal now was to convert others, and yours truly was first in line. I needed to clean up my act, quit wearing wild clothes, quit going out, start going to church, start being a model “biblical” wife (whatever the fuck that means), and when it came time to have kids, well, naturally, I’d stop working and stay home with them.
You can imagine how that went over with me. If I recall correctly, my comment to his wanting me to stay at home full time with kids was, “What’re ya gonna do, chain me in a closet?” I did try a few times. I went to church with him once and turned around in time to see a woman behind me pointing to me and mouthing to him, “Is that her?!” like I was some sort of exotic species. I went to a cookout at the home of someone at his church. I was out on the porch talking to a bunch of the guys about current events and one of the wives came out and asked me, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with us women in the kitchen?” I said I was fine, thank you. That was also when I heard a woman say something that I have never forgotten, something that did more to drive me away from religion than just about anything: “I’m glad I have God to make decisions for me so I don’t have to make them myself.”
Man, how long is this gonna be? I guess I have a lot to say on this matter. I haven’t even gotten into what I found on his Facebook page! But I’m almost there.
All this prelude is to try to make you understand part of my journey to becoming an atheist. There’s a lot more there, but that chapter of my life was a big part of it.
This is getting a wee bit heavy for me to think about right now, so I’m going to take a little break and get back to it later. These are not pleasant memories for me.
***
I feel well-rested and I’m back at it!
Still a little more to the prelude. After putting up with that nonsense for as long as I could tolerate it, I came to the decision that it wasn’t going to work and I wanted a divorce. I didn’t even bother suggesting counseling because I knew quite well what would happen: he would insist that we go to a pastor. Either his at his church or another one. That was a no-go with me because I had the suspicion that a pastor might be a tiny bit biased against me and my wishes. A wife is supposed to submit to her husband and all that rot. (And yes, my ex had gotten into a group called the Promise Keepers whose philosophy was exactly that. The man was to be the biblical head of the household.) I was done. It takes a lot to push me to that point, but once I’m there, I don’t change my mind and reverse course.
He did not react well to the news. His first action was to find our wedding album and tear up all the pictures in it. His second was to phone my parents (who lived three hours away) and tell them, “Beth just told me she wants a divorce. Just thought you should know. Bye.” I had no idea he was doing this and I got a panicked phone call from my parents. It was an ugly scene.
He left and ended up staying with a friend of his. He’d call me up occasionally and once told me, “I know that God is punishing me because I cheated on you.” I was a little bored by this crap by now and saw it for what it was: he wanted to lash out at me. But I still asked. “Oh yeah? When was this?” He said, “When I went to Officer’s Training School.”
Well, that was about a month after we got married, when he joined the Air Force. Nice, huh? Oh, well. I was done, so it really didn’t matter.
He didn’t really want to sign the papers initially but he finally saw that I wasn’t taking him back. So after five years of marriage and several months of separation, the divorce was final.
Time jump! I moved on, so did he, and so did the world. I found out that he married a Chinese woman he met when on a missionary trip to China. His mother told my mother (they kept in touch for a while) that she “looks a bit like Beth but doesn’t speak much English.” That made me laugh then and it still does. I said, “So he got the package but she doesn’t talk back.”
Now we get to the point where I saw his Facebook page. It’s public so it’s all out there. He got his kids (three of ‘em) and seems happy and content. I’m glad he is. What I’m not glad about is realizing that he’s kind of a right-wing jerk. There are posts about how this is the “most corrupt administration in history.” He’s also some kind of puritanical prude, talking about how “pornography is being taught in our schools.” (There’s a video of a school board meeting in Carmel, Indiana, where outraged parents are reading from novels available in the school libraries. There’s a young adult book that has an admittedly graphic sex scene, but hearing this PTA mom reading lines like “She was wet” and “He sucked her nipples” had me laughing my ass off!)
Worst of all, he’s a vaccine skeptic. This is the guy who got his Master’s in Microbiology when we were dating! I was disgusted and appalled by that, not some Hausfrau and her ‘pornographic book’ reading!
But wait! There’s more! Not only is he still super-religious, in looking at the comments from his family members (brothers and sister, especially), they’re all religious. He turned ‘em all! Even the people who were the wildest in that whole bunch (and let me tell ya, for someone who grew up in a very religious and straight-laced extended family, it was a little shocking for me at times) are now Bible thumpers.
And this is where I had my epiphany. Something I realized only now, thirty-some years after I divorced him. He didn’t want a partner.
He wanted a possession.
He wanted someone he could tell how to think, what to do, what to believe. He wanted to be the all-knowing husband who dictated how his household would run. He wanted an Electric Barbarella who would listen to what he said, every day, in every way.
Well, homegirl don’t play that game. No more than the dolly in the included video does.
My epiphany generated both horror and relief. Horror at the thought of what it would have been like if I’d stayed. Not only would the onslaught of religious dogma and right-wing demagoguery from him have been unending, but I’d also have started getting it from the whole damn family.
Talk about Hell on Earth!
The relief came in knowing that I had the wherewithal and the means to get out when I did. It wasn’t easy. Divorce was still quite scandalous in my family and I worried about how my folks would take it. I was like the little mascot in the extended family and I felt like I would be judged as a failure. (All needless worries but I was still young and I worried about things like that.) Work wasn’t an issue and I had supportive friends there and elsewhere and yes, family. I was free.
I’m in a good place. If I’d stayed, I would not be. So I made a very good choice and I have no regrets about it.
Why am I telling you all of this? I’m really not sure. Mostly my own sorting-things-out, I suppose. Maybe a little bit of letting people know that it’s okay to extricate yourself from a situation in which you are dissatisfied and unhappy. A situation in which you understand you will not thrive. And it is always okay to demand equal rights in a relationship. “Being told what to do” is not a viable situation!
It also gave me some insight as to both why I’m an atheist (at least one of the main reasons) and why I bristle at both mansplaining and being told what to do. I have very valid reasons for feeling the way I do. And oh, how tempting it is to write to him and let him know, “You’re one of the main reasons I’m an atheist. Just thought you should know how badly you failed at converting me. You should probably pray about it and think about how you failed.”
Very tempting. But of course, I won’t. It’s enough for me to know. And maybe on some level, he knows it, too.
No matter what age you are, I think it’s important to continue to learn things about yourself. Self-awareness is a very good thing and it very often brings comfort and strength. This whole thing wasn’t pleasant and dredged up a lot of bad memories for me. I have kept and will always keep many of those to myself. But I learned something about myself.
There, feat for quantum leap
Because space is hot and deep
And we follow giant footprints
As we fall in, falling like the twins
Through Saturn's holy rings
And if they can't hold us, where it's gonna end up
Anybody knows
Wasted, there's nothing gonna ace this
And we're gonna go to space, kid
'Cause I'm leaving with an astronaut
~~ “Astronaut” by Duran Duran
In a stroke of PR genius, Jeff Bezos asked 90-year-old William Shatner to join the latest flight of the Blue Origin spacecraft.
Millions watched “Captain Kirk” finally make a trip to space. He’s now an astronaut for real, although when asked about that, he demurred, saying, “Maybe with a small A. Followed by two S’s.” (I thought that was funny!)
What was truly remarkable was after they landed safely and he tried to articulate how it made him feel. Those of us with an introspective bent understood completely his awe, his difficulty at describing how profoundly it touched him. Who knew that Bill Shatner could be so philosophical?
He related it to how precious and fragile our Earth is and how we need to take care of her. He wished everyone could have that experience in order to see that. As one tends to do as one gets older (and he’s got a good 30 years on me!), he looked at our atmosphere and saw light and lightness and LIFE, and then gazed into the blackness of space and wondered if that was what death was like.
I’m not ashamed to admit that it made me cry and I know I’m not the only one. Seeing this typically cocky actor try to explain his profound feelings made so many of us feel his awe and joy. It was apparently a life-changing moment for him and we all experienced his epiphany vicariously. I’ve had the occasional epiphany myself and I know that it can be life-altering. I loved it that he felt that, even at the age of 90.
It was also special for me because from the time I was in high school, watching “Star Trek” reruns when I got home from school, I loved the show. It still means a lot to me and I’m still a fan. We watch all the shows currently out, always go to see a new Trek movie in the theater, and even still watch an episode of the original series (it will always be my favorite). We’ve even gone to several Trek exhibits over the years.
I’ve written before that “Star Trek” taught me about inclusion and helped me realize that it was important to learn about other cultures. That we don’t always need to fear “the Other.” It also gave me a love of science because rather than the bombastic Captain Kirk, I was drawn to Spock and to Bones. (Although Kirk had his own interesting tactics, including breaking the rules. I liked that, too. Kobayashi Maru, anyone?)
Some talking heads and other science types have said that these flights are the beginning of commercial space travel. I think they’re right. How many people got to fly on airplanes when they first started? It was a rich person’s game. Now they’re accessible to almost everyone. While it probably won’t happen in my remaining lifetime, I think we’ll start seeing more of this.
There are many critics of these billionaires and their “vanity flights.” I get it. The amount of money they have is obscene. But just as with the NASA flights, unexpected and important scientific findings will come from these. I’m not sure it’s an entirely bad thing that these are being privately funded. Obviously, NASA is still vital to our country and scientific development, but if these people have the money and the passion, I say, “go for it.”
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to pack my bags tonight pre-flight.
