On this day in 1966, "Star Trek" premiered on NBC TV. It was my father's favorite show, and we used to watch it together. I'm sure Dad secretly pretended to be Captain Kirk, and I loved to pretend Captain Kirk was my Dad.
I visited Dad's grave this weekend. He died nearly 19 years ago. I took this photo today near an ironically dead tree near his grave site in Laurel Grove Cemetery in Totowa, NJ, and I offer this poem in his memory.
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Tomorrow Is Yesterday
It’s a Thursday-like Sunday morning in September 2024,
And I have conjured my father in this poem.
Dad is 1,000 miles away from me
In the same TV room in New Jersey.
He has boldly returned from the dead,
And we are watching “Star Trek” together.
Suddenly, on the liquid crystal screen before us,
Multicolored lights begin to flash. Sirens sound.
Dad holds tight to the arms of his chair,
Rocking side to side in an exaggerated motion.
The crew of the Starship Enterprise surrounds us.
We slingshot around the sun
Fast enough to reverse time,
Arriving back in our TV room,
Where it’s a Thursday night in January 1967,
The day 2 feet of snow fell in Chicago.
My father sits in his easy chair, 57 years ago,
775 miles away from the storm.
He is still 1,000 miles away from me.
I am the boy nestled on the room’s orange couch.
I join my former self there and place a protective arm
That envelops my small body.
I whisper in my ear:
“It’s OK, it’s OK, it’s OK,” over and over again.
Until a tractor beam surrounds me and my past.
Its light absorbs us.
My grasp on myself dissolves.
As credits begin to roll, I am transported
To a Sunday morning in September 2024
By the otherworldly vessel of this poem.
This poem has taken control.
It has implanted an image that worms into my brain:
I cannot unsee my father.
He has become Captain Kirk at the conn.
In this strange new world,
He is changing my future forever.
