In STAR TREK V: THE FINAL FRONTIER, released in June 1989, there is a moment when Captain Kirk (William Shatner) says to a stunned Spock (Leonard Nimoy), "You look as if you've seen a ghost". Spock replies back to Kirk, "Perhaps I have, Captain, perhaps I have". That very same Summer, during a week when I was eagerly awaiting this movie yet was entrenched in a family trip to Texas, I had the very same experience as Spock. I was sure I had seen a ghost. I can still place myself to when it happened and the image remains clear while other memories from that time are starting to run like rain-soaked watercolors. I want to tell that ghost story here, as it's my only such story, along with a snapshot of me as the burgeoning STAR TREK fan that year. Being that 2016 is the 50th anniversary of this American pop culture icon, I can't help but add my voice to the chorus, though you could toss a bitcoin in any virtual direction on the internet and strike a blog post about STAR TREK.
Mom, Dad and my sisters Erin and Meri spent at least a week or more in McAllen, TX during the month of June 1989. The trip's motivation was somber as my maternal grandmother, who all of us kids called "Dear", had passed away just prior to Christmas, from emphysema. Rumors later looped through the family that her husband, called "Gramps", seemed resigned to let go his own mortal coil on any given day. My Mom looked to be losing both her parents in a span of six months, thus it became imperative that we visit soon. Once school wrapped up (high school sophomore year for me), the three-day road trip from North Carolina commenced. Is it just me or didn't it seem "de rigueur" back in the day that families more often than not drove to all destinations, no matter the distance, instead of piling onto planes? Sure, air travel would be quicker, but I think parents were far more stingy then. For us, time spent on the freeways between states provided my Dad hours in which to power through all his mix tapes, both new and old, from The Beatles to Bach to big band. It gave me the time to delve further into any and all STAR TREK paraphernalia I'd packed with me.
A word first about Dear, for some context. When comparing my two grandmothers, Dear was always second place. No other grandmother could match my dad's mom for sheer warmth, wit and fun. Alternately, my lingering memories of Dear involve me sitting quietly at her yellow linoleum kitchen table, drinking a short glass of Tang orange juice, while she smoked her cigarettes and grimaced in my direction. She was tall, very thin, with hair styled in the standard "high & tight" for women of a certain age. I remember her being very curt, sometimes gruff, but I wonder if now that I am older, would I have appreciated these qualities of hers. An elderly lady of her dapper stature, fingering a cigarette and heedlessly delivering caustic judgments of everyone sounds certifiably charming. However, for a small child and eventual teenager, Dear unsettled me.
When we arrived, the situation at their house in McAllen was a bit disheveled. Many of Dear and Gramps' belongings had previously been boxed up and their bedroom, which I so rarely dared enter as a kid, was the most cramped. This is when I learned that I'd been assigned to share the room with Gramps. And moreover, that I would be sleeping in Dear's former bed. It had been set perpendicular to his with a tall padded arm chair placed awkwardly between, facing his bed. It was clear that Dear and Gramps lived in real life as Rob and Laura did on TV's "The Dick Van Show", that is in separate twin beds. Do we yet know whether this sleeping arrangement was a case of art imitating life or did the depiction of chaste married life on television wield that much influence? My dad's parents had the same set up and I would wonder, inappropriately, did they ever share the same bed? Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of my room assignment. I was in fact spooked. No offense to Gramps, but I felt as if I was inviting spectral grimaces from Dear by sharing the space with him.
Yet even when headed to bed in a slightly skittish state that first night, I never expected anything unusual. Even though when we're younger, we seem more inclined to believe in what we can't see and that strange, possibly supernatural occurrences have a real possibility of happening to us. Before carefully creeping into Dear's old bed, I ensured the closet light remained on. The closet doors were of the slatted variety so that light streamed outward across the dark room in parallel amber shafts. I recall Gramps was already sleeping fitfully in his twin bed. The padded arm chair still oddly demarcated the room, its back towards me. After eventually nodding off, my next memory is of waking suddenly.
I lay on my right side. As my eyes adjusted to dimly-lit room, I noticed something strange when focusing on the back of that chair. It no longer appeared empty. I felt I was looking at the back of someone's head, someone now sitting in that chair, someone staring in the direction of Gramps. To me, the hair on this head showcased the high & tight style sported by Dear. My stomach immediately twisted into a knot and dropped. Though I felt paralyzed with dread, I managed to slowly rotate onto my back, fixating on the closet light instead. I resisted turning back towards the chair to confirm what I glimpsed, I just eventually fell asleep again. In the morning I relayed the entire event to my Mom, who was fully onboard and never once doubted its validity. She even shared that the housekeeper made similar claims of seeing Dear walking across rooms. What I find funny now is how much fear I felt, as if I'd witnessed the ghost of Jacob Marley instead of my own grandmother. No matter how surly I found her in life, should I have been so frightened to possibly encounter her ghost?
Our Texas sabbatical continued without further apparition sightings, by me or anyone else. I wished I'd been able to take in a viewing of STAR TREK V that week, but I wasn't going to press the point or drag along unwilling family members. So as a suitable substitute, during a renewing excursion to the local McAllen mall, I raided their bookstore for copies of the official movie novelization, the special glossy interview magazine, the DC comic book edition and the audio book, read by none other than George Takei (his respectable vocal impressions of Shatner and the cast are highly entertaining). I then scoured their humble record store and thankfully found the soundtrack on cassette. In lieu of actually watching the movie, I inundated myself with all the ancillary material. I was enthralled by it all. Maybe it's because I was still a rookie Trekkie. Maybe I was still gathering context of what was widely considered "good" Star Trek, but regardless I totally grokked STAR TREK V. Funny enough, I never saw the film itself until a year later when it aired on HBO, which for better or worse granted me plenty of time to read what little praise it drew from critics, not to mention the negative response from most Trek fans. I remain a very forgiving fan to this day.
The score by Jerry Goldsmith was rightly and roundly lauded by many, however. It'd been ten years since his previous score for the series, that being 1979's STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE. Ironically, back then he also found himself singled out universally for acclaim against generally mixed reviews for the film overall. I eagerly awaited this album, imagining in my head what I hoped the music would sound like. By that Summer, I only owned six or seven Goldsmith soundtracks, so very far off from where I stand now, at somewhere around one hundred fifty. STAR TREK V became a lasting favorite. It sported energetic variations of his martial main title from THE MOTION PICTURE, a return to his pulse-pounding Klingon theme and a wealth of new material, even the shortest cues contained engaging musical ideas. For this film's story of an exiled, enigmatic Vulcan and his quest for the Supreme Being, Goldsmith composed varying recurring motives to score the wondrous, the dangerous and the personal qualities of the quest. It's a layered, ambitious work that even has notes to spare for a unique theme to musically paint the friendship between Kirk, Spock and McCoy.
Sadly, there would be another family Texas trip later in the Fall, another made under a sorrowful shade, as Gramps had passed away. I think we all agreed this was due to a broken heart. There wasn't really any evident medical reason for his death. Apparently, everyone who knew him closely observed the emptiness he felt deepening each day. It's one reason why I never scoff at the potency of such aching heartbreak and how we can crumble physically under its weight, to the point of our own passing. It certainly colors my sole ghostly sighting differently, now that my years have migrated beyond that initial spooked sensation. I've relayed this story often, highlighting my panic in the moment, but then I began imagining the purpose for why it took place. Dear was there to watch over Gramps. I realize this episode can be rationalized away by skeptics. I choose to believe in my memory, mostly because it seems right and good that Dear would continue to comfort her husband after her death. Gramps had felt his life become hollowed with her loss and maybe I witnessed a modest indication that she never really left his side. It seems like small scraps to hold on to, but it brings me comfort as I can envision my Dad's spirit continuing to look after my Mom, me and my sisters, maybe even sitting beside us as we sleep.
