There is so much intertalk about the upcoming movie. Intertalk that is starting to spill over into real world talk (or should that just be ‘talk’? Nah). It was the subject of a twenty minute group conversation at the pub last night after work. That’s definitely unusual.

And this morning there is a rather lovely piece about Star Trek being more than the sum of parts of a camp TV show. The writer (Andrew Collins) mentions that for his generation, the original series will always be the definitive Star Trek.

That’s cool. For mine it was Star Trek: The Next Generation. The rest of them (especially the original series) are all but unwatchable for me.

My relationship with TNG (That’s what we called it) was far from love at first sight. When I was in late primary school, I distinctly remember my mother -who has always worn her nerd badge with pride- suggesting I should watch this new show “because I would probably like it.”

But this was a deeply uncool suggestion in late primary school. What would my friends think, for fuck’s sake?? So, not for the last time, I ignored mother’s sage advice.

The issue did not resurface again until my first year of high school and then only through an associate who shall remain nameless. I joined the TNG party at the end of series 2 (Riker had a beard) and I was hooked. Mum was right.

This, then, was the first thing Star Trek taught me:

• You are going to be different from most people and that’s fine

Star Trek was probably the first thing I loved in secret. It certainly wouldn’t/won’t be the last.

I was learning that you could be passionate about something that very few other people valued or respected at all. In fact, this realisation only served to deepen my affection. It made it precious.

And it was like a secret affair; the late night meetings (it was on at 10:30pm and usually started fifteen minutes late), the way I would play the encounter over in my mind days after, the risk of social ostracism should anyone find out.

I had a vague awareness that -somewhere beyond the coal mining town I was growing up in- there must be other people who liked this show but they didn’t come into it. It was just me and the crew. Every Tuesday at 10:30pm-ish.

• Sometimes you gotta steer the ship

If you know you’re right then you have to back yourself all the way. There’s nothing that can’t be solved by unwavering leadership and Earl Grey tea. (Still my tea of choice.)

• Jazz is for overweight bearded men

Really, it’s just terrible. If you aren’t from the Mississippi Delta then leave it well alone because you look and sound like a fool.

• Chaos happens. Suck it up.

It’s unlikely that in your life you are going to get spun out of the alpha quadrant and come face to face with the Borg for the first time but chaos is still going to mess with your plans. No tears, bitch. Get on with it.

• New is awesome

New people, new cultures, new food. Whatever. It’s all awesome and -rather than being avoided- should be actively sought out and embraced.

• People have pasts

This is going to colour their actions. Be a bit patient with them because you have one too.

• All good things…

The show is actually quite melancholy. People die, people leave, people drift apart. I would go so far as to say that this is one of the series’ core themes. Tasha Yar, Wesley Crusher, Lwaxanna Troi, Sito Jaxa, Lore, Picard’s nephew, that Bajoran protege of Riker’s. (I forget her name but check it out… I got the rest of them and I haven’t watched so much as a second of the show for at least ten years.) Gone, gone, gone.

When you throw in the truly amazing last episode and the first movie (Star Trek: Generations) you actually get what amounts to a complex study on the emotional impact of loss.

What I learnt was that people can and will come in and out of your lives so enjoy those ‘now’ moments while they are around. Watching the show as a kid who had a fairly sheltered childhood I used to study these reactions to loss with fascination but very little frame of reference from my own life. No one I knew had died, I hadn’t had a ‘one that got away’ love affair with a woman in Paris.

But, all too soon, I learnt what it was like to have your gods taken away. I’m not being melodramatic, this is what inspiring fictional characters essentially are: gods. (And vice versa.) They don’t exist but they have a measurable impact on how you behave and see the world. You use them for comfort and inspiration.

So when that fateful last episode rolled around… Well the sixties ended for me that day in the mid nineties, my friend. It was the last enduring lesson of the Next Generation before I was shoved out into the world sans security blanket/shields:

Things end. People move apart. And if you take the good things that you learnt from people with you on your journey then it’s not a cause for sadness but a cause for celebration.

And that’s exactly what I did.

Postscript:

This post is one of the many reasons why Stewie and I are so alike. Check it out: