Black-and-white television images that depict a barren lunar landscape are among my earliest memories. I was roughly 14 months old during the Apollo 11 moonwalk on July 20, 1969. My family, like so many others, tuned in 40 years ago to watch the historic event on television.
Something of the event”s importance must have registered its impression with me and led me to form this early memory.
Appreciation for science fact and fiction is a legacy I owe to my dad. I remember watching the original Star Trek with him during its original seasons. He also gave me my first science-fiction chapter books: “A Princess of Mars” by Edgar Rice Burroughs and a book of stories adapted from the animated Star Trek series.
My parents divorced when I was a young child so I place special importance on the science fiction experiences that I can share with my dad. He really wasn”t a part of my life; I saw him only during summers.
These visits were always fraught with stress because of the importance my family placed upon clearing your plate at the table. Many of the foods featured alien tastes and textures that I absolutely could not manage without fighting a gag reflex. My father and step-mother dismissed my difficulties as merely being a “picky eater.”
“All Parkhills like ice cream,” dad pronounced one day, despite my finding the cold texture and sweet taste to be completely repellent. Bad enough to feel like an alien among my classmates at school; now it was clear that I was also an outsider among the people who shared my last name.
A low point occurred at a family reunion where all the fried chicken was gone before I could have any. The only foods left were clumpy and cold, things that I could not eat. My hunger-fueled child”s frustration led to an outburst and a relative”s withering indictment that I was a spoiled brat.
When I graduated from high school, I refused to make any more summer visits to the Parkhill family in Washington because I was sick of the conflicts over food.
Today, I know that my difficulties with certain textures and tastes are part of an autism spectrum disorder known as Asperger syndrome. So too, the experience of feeling as if I belonged on a different planet.
Is it any wonder then, that I grew to love Star Trek and each of its successive spin-offs? There were plenty of other worlds and the ships” multi-racial, multi-gendered crew strove to embrace the diversity among interstellar (and Terran) life.
I felt a special affinity for Seven-of-Nine, Data and Mr. Spock. Like me, they had to navigate life among predominantly human crews whose actions were often illogical.
During the last few years, I”ve attempted to connect with the male members of my family through this interest in science fiction that it turns out all of us share.
When I talk with my dad on the phone, I can talk about Star Wars or the new Star Trek movie. Moreover, I”ve discovered that the oldest of my brothers loves costuming just as I do. I recently gave him some pointers on constructing the robes of a Jedi Knight.
The Apollo 11 anniversary reminds me of the positive experiences I have shared with my dad. Our relationship hasn”t entirely consisted of conflicts over food; my dad also contributed valuable traits to the person I have become.
NPR reported that the original images have been lost but that NASA has contracted witih a digital restoration firm to enhance the best television broadcast footage. The public can now see the first moonwalk in more detail than ever before. For more information, visit www.npr.org.
Cynthia Parkhill is the focus pages editor for the record-Bee and editor of the Clear Lake Observer?American. She can be contacted at ObserverAmerican@gmail.com or 263-5636 ext. 28.
