Back in 1966, my father made me my first pair of Vulcan ears for Halloween. Dad had been a reconstruction undertaker, so doing something like that was a snap for him. They fit perfectly. I wanted to be a Vulcan, to be logical in the face of chaos, calm when everyone else was freaking out. I wanted to be in total control of my emotions because I knew that wasn’t always the case. I wanted to be perceived as intelligent and cool. I never missed an episode.
When they started the Next Generation I was so excited. I put a television in my kitchen on the top of my fridge so that I could see the episodes while I cooked. They were amazing, but the Vulcan presence was minimal. Yet after such a long dry spell, it was wonderful. My father offered to do another set of ears for me, but I declined his offer. Then they made another Trek entity called Deep Space 9. It was soap opera in space and I loved it.
That was back in the early days of the internet. I found fan fiction on a site called Soul Trek. There was ship after ship full of people making their own stories about boldly going where no one had been before. They even had a space station! I signed up intending to write the character I always imagined myself to be. Like Spock I was half Vulcan and half Navajo because my father, the Native American who studied desserts went to Vulcan and came back to Earth with a wife. I found my voice on that space station because I became ten characters, from a WWII Irishman to an Egyptian Hawk who was my characters pet. I even cloned myself to run a story line about obsession.
At a Chicago convention, I paid extra so that I could meet Mr. Nimoy. He was most gracious. He giggled and pointed at my ears as he shook my hand. They were costume shop elf ears that I snipped, painted and fit on with spirit gum. My father’s pair were sadly lost long ago, but the skills Dad taught me made mine look custom made. Mr. Nimoy said that he wished that he had a pair of his old ones, but they were not made for re-use, so after each shooting they were discarded. We agreed that it was sad. This was the best convention I ever attended!
I even got myself drawn by one of the artists from the game called Elite Force. Mr. Carrini did a wonderful job on me. I came home in euphoria. Now I am in sorrow because the world has lost the first captive Vulcan and we don’t know when another one will come be with us. Rest in Peace, Mr. Spock.
Barnesversation 