Friday, 27 February 2015

Remembering Leonard Nimoy

It was with heavy hearts that we read the news of Leonard Nimoy's passing today.  Editor-in Chief Jordan and Contributor Marie put pen to paper to share their thoughts.

Marie Victoria Roberston
My grandfather was a huge Star Trek fan; growing up, I spent a lot of time at his house, watching reruns of the original series, and religiously watching every new TNG episode as they aired. "That's Mister Spock," my grandpa pointed out, during one of the first episodes of TOS I really paid attention to. "He's a Vulcan. An alien. He's special."

Spock quickly became my favourite. He represented an integral character to the Star Trek universe: the outsider, not part of humanity, the commentator on what it meant to be human. He was a character that I, as a weird and lonely nerdy girl, identified with.

When you grow up, you sometimes start to look at the performers behind the characters you loved as a kid, and some of the magic is lost. But that never happened to me when I discovered Leonard Nimoy. There was always something about his manner that seemed soothing and classy to me. Nimoy was one of those celebrities who seemed like they were too important to leave this world, like their presence meant too much to too many people.

I wished I could have met him in person. I wished I could have told him how Spock gave me hope as an awkward geeky kid, I wish I could have blushed and told him I kind of had a crush on him, because brains are pretty sexy. The closest I got was sitting in on his Skype chat at Ottawa Comic-Con, and I was amazed at how gentle, poised, well-spoken, and good-humoured he was. His spirit will be missed.

From Spock's funeral in "Wrath of Khan": "Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most human."

LLAP, Mr. Nimoy.

Jordan Danger
Spock raised me. In a house where every episode of Star Trek (both the original and Next Generation series) were on VHS and watched nightly, there were days I spent more time with Spock than with my own family. He taught me about logic versus emotion; he taught me the importance of connecting and understanding other species; he taught me the value of wearing a blue uniform versus a red one. 

A world without Leonard Nimoy feels surreal. How this timeless icon could leave us is something I cannot process. I feel the loss as keenly as if he were a personal friend or family member. How many times a week, even a day, have I thought of him? When I need to make an important decision, I always ask myself what Spock would do. To think that he’s no longer here, guiding many of us through a treacherous universe full of ethical dilemmas, gold lame, and green-skinned aliens, is unfathomable. 

I’m comforted by the fact that he was so well-loved and will live on eternally through his work. Truly, Nimoy lived long and prospered, and he still stands as a mentor to me. I hope that I can embrace life, achieve success, and be as unforgettable as this lovely man. In my eyes, Leonard Nimoy will forever be Spock—sometimes in his science officer uniform, agonizing over the quandaries of the universe…and sometimes in The Voyage Home, wearing that white robe and swearing his clever curse, “A double dumbass to you”. A double dumbass to you, Grim Reaper. Because you may have taken the man, but you’ll never take his legend.

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