It was a hotel in Portland, but on the day of the Star Trek convention, it sure looked like a place no man had gone before. There were pointy-eared Vulcans, wrinkle-headed Klingons, Starfleet cadets in sleek red, yellow and blue uniforms.
But the oddest sight? Two people wearing no costumes at all: a 17-year-old boy pushing through the aliens, holding hands with a woman who looked like a grandmother. My mother and me.
My mother’s long battle with kidney disease had taken its toll. She was in her fifties but looked almost twice that. A year of hemodialysis had stripped her of half her normal weight, her hair had gone almost completely gray and it seemed like a weary expression was permanently etched on her face.
She had her good days, but many more bad ones. All my life, she’d been a strong single mom, raising me on her own. I wanted to repay her. Lord, I’d prayed that morning, help me give Mom the best day ever.
Two things always gave Mom a lift. One was church and the other was seeing her favorite actor, William Shatner, on Star Trek reruns. Mom was an unlikely “Trekkie.” Spaceships to distant worlds? She’d never even been on an airplane. The home she grew up in didn’t have a TV, electricity or running water.
But when she stumbled upon Captain Kirk, she was smitten. He was the perfect example of the father figure she wanted me to have: intelligent, brave, compassionate…and handsome.
Every week we settled down on the couch with our dinners for our “date” with Captain Kirk, exploring distant worlds. I joined the captain’s fan club, and when I received a glossy photo of the actor in the mail, Mom propped it up on her dressing table. “I can dream, can’t I?” she joked.
Then I heard from the fan club that a Star Trek convention was coming to town—with William Shatner as the guest speaker. I bought tickets with some money I’d saved. The place was packed, but I elbowed us to the front row. I looked at Mom. Was it just my imagination, or was some of that weariness gone?
The lights dimmed, and outtakes and clips from “unseen episodes” flashed across the screen. Finally, the lights came up and Captain James T. Kirk himself strode out onto the stage.
He was a bit older and had lost some of his Starfleet physique, but when I glanced at Mom’s awestruck face, I could tell she still saw the captain in all his glory.
Mr. Shatner kept the audience enthralled for an hour, sharing backstage tidbits, little-known Star Trek lore. “Are there any questions?” he asked.
Dozens flashed through my mind. But only one seemed right. Something for Mom. I raised my hand as far as it could go. He called on fan after fan. He’s got to see me! “We only have time for one last question,” he said. My heart sank.
He turned toward me. “Yes? You, in front.” I stood up slowly. He won’t do it, I thought. Crazy fans probably ask him this all the time…
“Captain Kirk…I mean, Mr. Shatner,” I said, trembling, “my mother thinks you’re wonderful, and she’s been a fan for as long as I can remember. Could she come up and give you a hug?”
Mom gasped. The auditorium went silent. The actor’s eyes connected with mine. “Come on up here!” he said. The room erupted in cheers. I held Mom’s arm and steadied her as she climbed the stairs. She made her way slowly across the stage toward her Captain Kirk.
“Thank you for being my biggest fan,” he said. Then, leaning in, he put his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek.
It’s a day I’m reminded of every time the newest Star Trek movie comes out. I had prayed that seeing William Shatner would make my mom happy. And it did, more than I ever imagined. It was one of Mom’s good days. “The best day ever,” she told me as we left, giving me a kiss of her own.
