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Home Again


My childhood home went on the market last week (already under contract, apparently), and episodes 9 and 10 of Star Trek: Picard season 3 aired last month. Neither one of the aforementioned things at first appear as though they would have anything in common. And they don't, at least not to most people. For yours truly, however, they both represent a fondness for a certain era of the past.

The house at 605 S. Draper was my first home. My parents brought me there from the hospital, on what was probably a cold winter's day in the 1970s. There I lived until I was 10-years-old. A lot of memories are wrapped-up in that place. In fact, I've previously described the places we live as memory boxes. There in the small house on Draper St. is where I would play the piano, watch movies with mom and dad in our wood-paneled living room, look forward to weekend drop-in visits from aunts and uncles, watch PBS shows on the little black & white TV in my bedroom, and play in the backyard sandbox and tree house that my dad built.

The house has had several owners since we moved out of it back in 1986. I was able to visit it once during that time, when the then-owners were kind enough to allow me inside. It was a nice gesture, but the experience was sort of a let down. They were standing there with me most of the time, talking, and... I dunno... I didn't really have an opportunity to take it all in, to have the space to breathe, and just be in the moment. It had been at least two decades since I'd left that house, and I kind of wanted to just be there with it alone, if that makes any sense?

When the current owner/seller moved in a few years ago, he updated it quite a bit (as the online pictures will attest). That makes sense. The wood-paneling I mentioned earlier just isn't in vogue anymore (hasn't been for a long time). And, most houses need to be modernized. I get it. But it's all just a reminder that very few things stay the same, and that, as Thomas Wolfe let us know lo those many decades ago, we can't go home again.

Or can we?

As mentioned earlier, last month saw the series finale of Star Trek: Picard. SPOILERS follow. In episodes 9 and 10 of the last season, the original characters of Star Trek: The Next Generation return, and are reunited with the ship they served on together for the seven year run of the program, the Enterprise D. The bridge was lovingly reconstructed for the episodes and, if you're a fan, you should check out Wil Wheaton's visit to the set. It was fun to see him geek out while going over all of the memories he had working on the original program during the late-'80s/early-'90s.

I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation regularly when it originally aired. In fact, my parents and I watched the first episode, Encounter at Farpoint, together back in September of 1987. After my parents divorced, I would often watch it alone, every week, usually in my bedroom (on what was by then a nice color TV). It was fun to watch and, in a way, comforting. I wasn't a terribly popular kid, and put up with relentless bullying (as, unfortunately, many kids do), so being able to check-in once a week with the goings-on of the starship Enterprise was a welcome respite from life as it sometimes was.

Fast forward some thirty years later, and seeing the characters I'd grown up watching, reunited, standing together again on the bridge of the Enterprise D, was like going home again. In fact, it was better than that. Television shows can come in many forms: they can be gritty and realistic, or mysterious, or funny, or a bit fantastical. That's how I view the reunion we got in Star Trek: Picard. It was rare, and it was heartfelt. Sure, we got to see the Millennium Falcon again (and again) in the Star Wars sequels and Solo movie, but everything was going by so fast, we didn't really get to fully take it all in.

When the TNG crew first step onto the bridge of the restored Enterprise D, while the score gently plays (and eventually soars), our heroes are initially quiet, taking it all in. There is a reverence in the silence. It's how I wanted to be when revisiting my old home two decades after having been away. Sometimes, we just need to be in the moment. The first line of dialogue spoken on the bridge, after the crew have quietly adjusted, is from Will Riker. He says, "Is the bridge smaller, or am I just bigger?" I chuckled wistfully at that, as it's a direct crib from what so many of us think or say if we're fortunate enough to revisit our childhood stomping grounds. Indeed, when I was back at my old house, and look at pictures of it online, I'm taken aback at how the living room -- which seemed cavernous when I was a kid -- appears to actually be rather diminutive.

Unless our parents are 1) still living, and 2) still residing in the same house we grew up in, it's fairly uncommon to be able to go home again. Likewise, even in this age of nostalgia we seem to be living in, it's rare that we get to see our favorite TV shows and characters back almost exactly as they were. That's why episodes 9 and 10 of season 3 of Star Trek: Picard had such an impact on me. Being back there, with that comfortable-looking, carpeted, beige bridge, with the actors who I'd watched weekly for seven years going to and fro on the original set, was so very special.

Most of the TNG actors are baby boomers. That generation has become much-maligned in recent years, and I tend to bristle at it. Not because I don't think people have legitimate concerns regarding income inequality, but partly because I tire of generational bashing, and partly because many of the people I've loved most in this world are or were boomers. My mom and dad were boomers, my aunts and uncles were and are boomers. Most of my school teachers were boomers. I have a bit of an affinity for that generation. Sure, they have faults, but then so does my generation. So does every generation.

Both my parents are gone now. And my childhood home has been remodeled to the point that it's nearly lost all of its nostalgia for me. But, seeing that rebuilt Enterprise D set... that was as close to going home again as I'm likely to get. For a couple of episodes, I was transported back to those weekly respites where I'd watched the latest adventures of the TNG crew. It was wonderful being able to see them save the galaxy again, one last time. And, I wasn't just seeing those actors standing on the bridge -- I was seeing my mom and dad, my aunts and uncles, my teachers -- all of the people from my past who are no longer with us. Those boomers on the screen were, in a way, stand-ins for the boomers I knew and loved in real life.

I was also seeing myself, or at least a younger version of me. I envisioned being able to go back and step foot inside my original childhood home, the place where I'd first known life for over a decade. And, in this imaginary daydream, it would look like it did during the 1980s, with the living room's wood-paneled walls; the upright piano in the corner; the little black & white TV playing PBS in my bedroom; my dad and my uncle Joe sitting at the small, perfunctory kitchen table, catching-up on the week's happenings; my mom setting-up the little egg-dyeing kit we'd work on for Easter, or maybe helping me make Death Star cookies from my Star Wars cookbook, or helping me read a Little Golden Book, or cooking one of her delicious meals, or doing any of the myriad things she did back then, helping to  make life as loving and enjoyable as was possible.

Sometimes, we can go home again, even if it's only in our memories. Or perhaps a TV show.


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