"He who was my companion through adventure and hardship is gone forever.”
I am a dork, not to be confused with a nerd (who is productive), and I watched Star Trek as a kid. We watched it together. The “Darmok” episode’s take on interspecies communication and the Epic of Gilgamesh flew a bit over the head of a second grader, but it reappeared later during my brief stint at Rhodes, his future alma mater.
Like any good liberal arts college, Rhodes has two tracks of required humanities programs students must take: Search or Life. Life focused more on religious text, so if I had to guess, he was like me and selected the Search option, which is more broadly about the foundations of western cultural values. As I recall, they kick it off at the beginning — a look at Gilgamesh.
Back then the words meant very little to this dumbassed 18 year old, but they do now. As does the letterboxed episode of a sci-fi show produced thirty years ago.
Sir Patrick Stewart delivered a performance worth remastering and putting on Netflix, so now I can watch and rewatch S5E2 if I want to remember either a runty dingus who pretended to be Geordi La Forge, or a grown man who was a source of great joy during adventure and steadfast reliance during hardship.
It gets easier, but it is not painless.
Should not my cheeks be emaciated, my expression desolate;
Should my heart not be wretched, my features not haggard;
Should there not be sadness deep within me;
Should I not look like one who has been traveling a long distance, and should ice and heat not have seared my face;
Should I not roam the wilderness?
The gate of grief must be bolted shut, sealed with pitch and bitumen.