It’s the End of the Summer as we know it

… and I feel … odd. I think it started about a month ago at this point, on my way to work in the mornings. At first, it was having to put the visor down every morning as the sun would be beaming right in the windshield. Then, within a span of only a week or so, I noticed that it was still dark when I got up in the morning, to get ready to head off to work, and I needed the visor less and less. Now, only a couple of weeks later, it seems like the dead of night when I’m heading down the road and pulling into the parking lot. It just struck me so much that during one week, I began to take note each day of where the sun, or the light by that time was each morning and could discern the difference between the start and the end of the week. I don’t know if it’s ironic, but it’s a strange thing that the start of the summer, with the longest day of the year, also marks the beginning of the end, as the days only get shorter from there on out.

I don’t find it depressing but more disconcerting. We made our final trip to Hershey for the summer the last Wednesday of August, and despite the enjoyable experience it was (despite the three trips on Skyrush the first thing in the morning) with the mid-late summer crowds having already come and gone, there was that air of finality hanging over the trip. Sure there might be those one or two chances to head back for the seasonal events in the Fall and Winter, but it’s just not the same as all those trips made during the summer months. It seems like we were anxiously anticipating the end of the school year so we can make those treks not too long ago, and now here we are, already finishing the opening week of the new school year. How much longer before we see those first few snowflakes of the season? Sometimes how I wish for a TARDIS to be able to, if not stop time for a while, at least remain in a certain point of it for much longer than reality lets it last.

Which reminds me … I really need to get back to work on my Doctor Who spin-off stories. I have a couple chapters written already, but can never feel satisfied enough with what I already have to go back and write some more.

Anyway, while contemplating this, I realized that we’re not too far from the anniversary of the World Trade Center attacks, and was taken aback that we’re already at the 14^th anniversary. It doesn’t seem like four years have gone by since the 10^th anniversary was honored. Again, it never ceases to amaze me how fast time seems to be moving now more than ever. Thinking about that got me to wondering what other anniversaries have come and gone, and I realized that it seems the 35^th anniversary of Mt. Saint Helens’ eruption was completely passed by. Maybe it was I was too busy that day to notice mention on the news reports – if I even watched any. What I really find odd, though, it that it is one of those few major events that have occurred in my life that I can’t remember where I was or what I was doing when I heard about it. I still remember watching the docu-drama about the eruption, but that’s pretty much it. I remember where I was when I heard about the Challenger and the Columbia, and of course on that day back in 2001, but nothing for St. Helens. Perhaps it’s because that event was less impactful for me at my age back then than the others were.

The finality of time rolling on is a strange thing. This past week seemed even stranger still as summer (despite having another couple of “official” weeks) gave us one more taste of the heat that marks that one special season of the year where three months are set apart from the other nine. It’s always been special to me – all those summers of the great battles: G.I. Joe vs. COBRA and the Autobots vs. the Decepticons out in the backyard, and those great intergalactic battles with every conceivable group of action figures in the possession of my brother and myself. If there was one good thing about being unemployed a couple years ago it was for the fact that for the first time in a long time I had a summer that I could thoroughly enjoy and at least replay those days of glory in my mind, even if I couldn’t relive them like I used to oh so long ago. The one thing I miss the most, though, are those cross-country trips we used to take as a family. I hope that we can at least have one year where we can give our kids a taste of what that was like. Until then, all there is to do is wait for the next nine months to go by and start looking for the next time the weather forecast mentions the term “heat wave.”

Reflections

Note - The following originally appeared on my website, and in preparation of uploading some original fanfic stories, I am now copying it here for prosperity:

I read my sister’s blog not too long ago about her trip to London back in November for the 50th Anniversary Doctor Who convention. It was quite an amazing experience. The memories of my youth came flooding back – I first remembered the time I had the opportunity to attend a Who convention, oh so long ago, in Baltimore while I was attending Salisbury State University. I don’t remember much about the convention itself – only bits and pieces which include meeting Sophie Aldred (Ace – Companion to the 7th Doctor), and of course Tom Baker – the 4th Doctor, who is “my” doctor as well. I do remember feeling nervous about going since it was the first time I would make a trip to a large metropolitan city and doing it as a lone wolf. I was never one to be much of a city boy, let alone driving to navigate the roads in such, but somehow I made it to the show on time, and eventually made it back to my dorm room on the Maryland peninsula. This would have been right around the time that the show went on “extended” hiatus, which really meant that the BBC had finally killed it off.

The BBC did what no monster, evil genius, nor the Master himself could do in the show’s history. The BBC killed Doctor Who. They had been trying to kill it for years, and unfortunately, Colin Baker, who played the 6th Doctor in a far too short term was one of the early casualties of the battle. People can, and have, tried to come up with all sorts of excuses and reasons why the show, which even at that time in 1989, was the longest running Science-Fiction television programme in history why it met its demise. The true reasons why the BBC wanted rid of it are either unknown, unmentioned, or just lost to the ages of fading memory. Regardless, those in charge finally got their wish.

Doctor Who began its life 7 years before my own. It was there in my formative years, and my earliest television memories include watching an enigmatic character with a wide-brim hat and impossibly long scarf tramp across time and space in a funny looking big blue box, along with other notable shows like the original Star Trek, and the animated runs of G.I. Joe and The Transformers which appeared every weekday after school. Of course, at the time, it was PBS that was hosting reruns of Doctor Who, so it tended to be a few seasons behind the actual run in Britain, and early on, only had the shows featuring the 3rd and 4th Doctors. So it is amusing to me now to remember back to those early days and think that Jon Pertwee (Doctor #3) was actually successor to Tom Baker since PBS began the cycle again with Jon’s premier episode after they had exhausted their current inventory of Tom’s shows available. It was not until some years later, when the Peter Davison episodes finally made their way across the pond that I understood the correct chronology, and gained more of an interest in the character of the Doctor as now I realized there were more versions of him out there.

As the 70’s waned and the next decade took hold, it grew ever more apparent that the Doctor had tremendous international appeal across the globe, and thus more and more episodes were exported from the British Empire (though unfortunately by that time, many of the shows featuring the first three Doctors were destroyed, several dozen of which still remain missing to this day). But what there was became more available, so as I grew and was able to dig deeper and deeper into the lore and information about the programme, I was able to begin to experience each of the incarnations of the wandering Time Lord and found something to like about each one. I eventually became a member of two Doctor Who fan clubs and couldn’t get enough of the show – even going so far as to request my mother knit a scarf that was a replica of the one featured in Tom Baker’s final season as the Doctor, which I still wear every now and again when winter rolls around each year.

It was around this time that I was heading off to University and the Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy episodes were making their way onto PBS. Though my favorite Doctor was, and always will be the 4th, I still found the newer replacements just as fun and engaging as those I remembered as a child. And it was for that reason I found it so disheartening to learn that the BBC no longer wanted the programme around, and through the information provided from the fan clubs learned of the turbulent times of the 6th Doctor’s run, and then eventually learned of the second, and final “hiatus” of the show while in my first year of studies at SSU.

For the remainder of my four years at school, I could only satisfy my cravings through the reruns on PBS while ingesting as much information as I could get via the fan clubs and hope beyond hope that the BBC would see reason and return the programme to the airwaves in short order, as I imagine most other fans of the series did at the time. However, as the years went by and the 90’s took full hold, the realization came that Doctor Who would not be coming back. Disappointment set in and as Real Life marched on with the responsibilities of work and relationships with others that did not quite have the interest in Doctor Who that I did, I let my fandom slip away to the memories of time, and moved on to other things.

Then, around late 1995, early 1996, hope glimmered anew as rumors of a television special began to make waves. This would be funded and produced by an American company. Though it had been 7 years since the Doctor’s demise in Britain, the fanbase in the US still remained strong and here was hope that this television special might draw enough of an audience to bring the programme back to life, and at least keep it out of the hands of the BBC to boot. Alas, it was not to be. Though the show itself was enjoyable, and Paul McGann performed capably as the 8th Doctor, I personally felt that too much was crammed into the show to bring in enough new fans to give the kickstart needed for another series. There was too much backstory referred to that would only make sense to long time fans of the show and of course throwing in a regeneration scene to boot would have just caused too much confusion to those coming to know the Doctor for the first time. Whatever the reasons, this became a one-off adventure of the 8th Doctor on television, the remainder of stories featuring him relegated to the ongoing series of novelizations and audio adventures at the time, until the recent webisode featuring his regeneration into the War Doctor (now unofficially the 9th Doctor).

So once again, the Doctor, and any hope of his return, faded to the memory of the ages for another 9 years. Then around 2004/2005 the big news arrived that the Doctor would return in a new series, for realsies this time. The BBC had decided to bring the show back on the air after 16 years of limbo. However, I found I could no longer feel the excitement that the news should have brought, and that I had felt almost a decade before when the Doctor had returned all too briefly. Perhaps it was because I didn’t want to be disappointed again. Perhaps the results of experiencing the runs of the new Star Trek series and movies that just didn’t quite measure up to the 78 episodes of the original run, and of experiencing the disappointment of the prequel trilogy of the Star Wars movies left me jaded in thinking that any new series would just not be able to measure up and capture the unique campiness and quirks of the original run of the show. Mostly, though, perhaps it was the fact that it was the BBC who killed the programme in the first place and I thought that they least of all deserved to have run of the show and any profits that would come of it.

In the end, I guess you could say I had moved on. That relationship was in the past. I now had new interests and a family that occupied my time. It was not until some years later, during David Tennant’s run as the 10th Doctor (now unofficially the 11th) that I actually took the opportunity to watch a couple of the episodes from the first new season just to see what it was all about. I was glad that the show held true to its roots, and though I did not like the TARDIS interior redesign (which was first featured in the ’96 special), found the episodes enjoyable enough to watch. But, in the end, my initial feelings held true. As faithful as the new series remained to the original, it just wasn’t the same. The magic was gone for me, and the new series will never hold the awe and wonderment that the original did. Which brings me back to a statement by Matt Smith (the most recent Doctor to complete his run – 11th or 12th depending on your point of view) that my sister had mentioned in her blog.

He had said something to the effect that the people in their 30’s were robbed of Doctor Who. You could say they were robbed of their childhood. I couldn’t imagine what my life would have been like had I not been introduced to the Doctor in my formative years and been a fan of the show up through most of my young adulthood. I would not be the same person I am now. So yes, the BBC robbed millions of people of their childhoods back on that day in 1989 when they decided to end the run of a show that brought joy to many across the globe (and I am sure lined the pockets of the execs at the time to boot). But more than that, all of us who had been fans, young and old, were robbed of one of the most unique, interesting, and captivating science-fiction programmes of all time. Ironic that after 50 years of continuing to be the longest running sci-fi series in history, for about a third of that time, there were no new episodes being produced.

So when I had finished reading the blog, I realized I wished I could have been there as much as my sister wanted me to be there with her at the convention. Despite all the intervening years where I had not watched one single episode of all the hundreds I had videotaped over time, with the exception of the two DVDs my sister had given me for Christmas a few years ago, I wished more than anything I could have been in the room where the panel of the old Doctors was being held, and that I would have been lucky enough to have been selected to ask a question of them. I imagine it would have gone something like this:

“Hello, and thank you all for taking the time to be here. I swam all the way from Trenton, NJ just for this event. (Pause for laughter). Just in case there are those who don’t remember, Trenton was where K-9 was made, and I must say it gave a boy of my young years at the time a thrill to know that my favorite Doctor actually knew where I lived. (Another pause for laughter and applause).

“I just wanted to say, that even though I always think of Tom as “my” Doctor, and he will always hold a place as my favorite among all, that I enjoyed what each and every one of you brought to the role and always looked forward to your next adventure every week. I only regret that we don’t have three equally important gentlemen sitting up there with you so that they can be included with that statement. (pause for more applause). I should also include Mr. McGann as well since I consider him part of the old guard as well, and I think it truly a shame that he, Colin, and Sylvester got the short end of the stick and really did not get the chance to shine as bright during their tenures as the Doctor. (more applause). Like I said, I enjoyed what each and every one of you brought to the show and to the Doctor and wish the two of you, and Paul had more of a chance to complete longer runs in the role.

“But, let me get on with my question as I don’t want to rob anyone else of their opportunity. Thinking back to something I think I recall Peter saying one time in that he regrets not staying on longer as the Doctor (correct me if I am wrong), and with the realization that time marches on and we really only have a limited time on this earth, I would ask each of you, if you had a TARDIS and could go back in time to re-visit your tenure as the Doctor, what would you see as the biggest success or triumph of your run, and what would you see as the biggest regret that you would like to have back and change?”

What I wouldn’t give to be able to hear the answer to both of those questions from each and every one of the gentlemen who played the role from Bill Hartnell up through Paul McGann. And come another 25 years, when we celebrate the programme’s 75th anniversary, to include Chris Eccleston, Dave Tennant, Matt Smith, and Peter Capaldi in that as well. Because, you see, thanks to a little bit of canon introduced during the original run of the show, we know that Time Lords can be granted additional sets of regenerations, so though Capaldi marks the official last form of the Doctor’s original set of 12 regenerations (allowing for 13 different “bodies”), I have no doubt that he will be given a new lease on life and continue on, so long as the BBC doesn’t make the same mistake twice.

Let it Fly

Vacation. That wonderful time of year that one can look forward to getting away from the grind of work. And yet, vacation can be more exhausting than a few days of work itself. More and more, I become aware of the old saying of needing a vacation after taking a vacation. Sometimes I think there is more stress in planning out a day’s activities and then dealing with the inevitable changes as the weather, crowds, and other unforeseen bumps in the road alter those plans throughout the day, than during a day at work. As fun as it is taking the week doing some of the things that we enjoy and don’t nearly get enough time to enjoy as much as we would like, I can’t escape the feeling of needing another week just to be able to vegetate and do nothing. Letting the body and the mind relax and recharge more completely than running around and trying to cram as much activity into one day could ever do. Anyway, 51 more weeks to go before we can once again look forward to escaping the annoyances of work for an all too brief time of “rest” and relaxation.

One thing that stuck out in my mind this past week, though, was a trip to Gettysburg. This was my second time there as an adult – the first being last year when my (then) 9 year old daughter had an interest in seeing the battlefield. That trip we didn’t have a lot of time, so only walked the area around Pickett’s Charge, and the famous Copse of Trees. This year, we gave ourselves the day so were able to walk the museum and watch the film and cyclorama presentation. We then headed out and toured the Northwestern battlefield – McPherson Ridge and Oak Ridge, the area where the three days long battle had begun. I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve always had a strange feeling when standing upon historic ground like this – knowing that at some point in the past people not unlike myself were standing on that very spot, going about their lives much like I was doing, albeit under far different circumstances depending on the particulars of the historic site. I think it’s just my mind trying to make a connection with those people from long ago, trying to put myself in their shoes and wondering what I would have been doing at that moment in time if I had been there with them. That feeling was only reinforced by the memorial stones, both large and small, that indicated the spots were the various brigades and divisions of both armies were stationed during the battles. As large as the battlefield and town seem to one small individual walking along trails in the sweltering summer heat, it made me wonder how small this place must have felt when over 160,000 men, along with their horses and various armory camped on the ridges and in the valleys in and around the town.

I was hit with a lingering wave of sadness as I strolled around the Confederate line around the Peace memorial, which was north of Oak Ridge. There the Southern batteries had opened up upon the Union positions along the Railroad Cut near McPherson Ridge to the south and Oak Ridge. I couldn’t imagine what that would have been like, being a part of that placement, and having full view of the enemy position just west of the town. Not quite close enough to see the whites of their eyes (though Oak Ridge was even closer to the Confederate’s line), but certainly able to see the carnage that was raining down upon the Union soldiers in blue. As I read the placards placed around the area, explaining the details of the engagement, and the eventual march of the 8000 Confederate infantry from that point towards Oak Ridge, I found it hard to image what that feeling must have been like for any one of those men marching upon the Union line wondering how much longer they had left to live. As the Confederate infantry neared the stone wall that lined the ridge, the Union forces rose from their cover and opened fire. I don’t think I can ever shake that feeling that came over me knowing I was standing upon ground where, in the span of minutes, 2000 men not unlike myself were struck dead just over a century and a half ago.

It was there, at Oak Ridge, where we had to call an end to the day – there never seems to be enough time to take in everything we want to do any given day. It was on our way back to the motel, reflecting upon my thoughts and feelings as I processed what I had seen and read, that my thoughts turned to the recent controversy of the Confederate flag. Being neither Black nor a Southerner, I can look at the issue as a dispassionate observer. To me, it’s a shame that a symbol that represents the heritage of a great many people in this country has been perverted into a symbol of hate, not unlike what the Nazi’s did to the Swastika. A discussion on the reasons that brought about the Civil War is a bit beyond the scope of this simple blog, but the issue of slavery was just one of several things that brought about one of the most tragic times in our nation’s history. The war itself wasn’t even fought to free slaves, but, from the perspective of the Union leadership, to preserve the state of the Union. Even the Emancipation Proclamation was a political tool to strengthen the North’s position – it didn’t free slaves in the non-rebelling border states.

To me, the Confederate flag never represented slavery, but the many ideals that caused a large number of men to take up arms to defend their new country – most of whom never owned a slave a day in their life. In all honesty, the flag of the United States is representative of that, and more. The author of our Declaration of Independence was a slaveholder, and the Constitution of the United States upheld the institution of slavery. I seem to recall the notion of Indentured Servitude still being a normal thing during these times as well. Let’s not mention what the Westward Expansion under Old Glory meant for the natives of this land. Even after the dawn of the Industrial Revolution (which brought about human rights issues itself in this country), there were many in the North that still had a vested interest in the institution of Slavery. After the dust settled and Reconstruction but a harsh memory, inequality was still the norm for this country – and not just for those of African descent. Heck, just the recent issue of Gay Marriage shows just how much inequality is represented under a symbol that is supposed to represent the ideals of Freedom and Equality for all.

So, I ultimately have no issue with the raising of the flag that represents the Confederate States of America. In fact, the ideals under which the United States of America was founded, and thousands gave their lives for in the two centuries since, every American has the right to raise that flag if they so desire. That being said, I do believe that the flying of Southern Cross should be limited to the rights of individual citizens and not be done on government property. Ultimately, whether it be the “Stars and Bars” or the more popular second Navy Jack (which was actually never an official flag of the CSA), the symbol represents a country that no longer exists, and one that was never officially recognized before its demise. Let the freedom of choice remain with the individual citizen. Right or wrong, we still need to honor those of our forefathers who fought for what they believed and held in their hearts to be right. We as a nation have grown and learned from some of our past mistakes, though we still have a long way to go. Do not let the past, or the actions of a criminal few, continue to prevent us from looking towards a more positive future and reaching for those ideals a handful of brave men gave their livelihoods to bring forth eleven score and nineteen years ago.

Lawfully Wedded

On June 26^th, the Supreme Court of the United States of America issued a ruling on Gay Marriage. It seems it was a monumental day indeed. I don’t recall quite a noteworthy ruling by the court since Roe v. Wade. Somehow I don’t think this ruling will be any less controversial and will continue to be talked about in the decades to come, like the one that legalized abortion over 40 years ago. It will be curious to see how, or even if, this decision shapes our nation in the future.

                 From a personal standpoint, I always puzzled over why this was such an important thing for people to have, aside from the legal aspects of course. Regarding that, I always wondered what the issue was to provide gay couples the same rights and benefits as everyone else. Money has something to do with it I am sure. But I have always wondered why not simply fight for making Civil Unions have the same weight and strength of a traditional Marriage. After all, if the legal rights and benefits were the crux of the issue, then having Civil Unions on the same level of Marriage would solve the problems. Perhaps simplicity might have something to do with that little point. The one thing that always got under my skin with that though, was the argument that seemed to be used when all else failed – Marriage is just a word (or piece of paper), so why is it such a big deal to prevent gay couples from marrying? To me, that is just one of those asinine arguments that people seem to resort to when they can’t amply defend the stance they are taking. If Marriage is simply a word or piece of paper, I thought, then why is it such a big deal to have it? Let the argument stand on its own merits – couples, regardless of their sexual orientation, should always have equal rights under the law.

                To me, Marriage is an ages old tradition, and while some traditions may be strange or “bad”, I don’t think Marriage falls into that category. For me, Marriage will always be a man and a woman expressing their love for each other and desire to spend their lives together. No ruling will ever change that, but I most certainly am pleased that, one way or another, America as a country has taken one more step towards a better society. It has been too long in coming, much like providing equal rights to women and to African Americans. Sometimes it still boggles me that as forward thinking and advanced as we can be sometimes as a society, that things like this seem so difficult to grasp.

                So, at any rate, congratulations to the Supreme Court for taking America one more step in the right direction, and good luck to all who now can take the next step of their live together. I would just temper that with a reminder that there is still one more important principle to remember that this country was founded on – religious freedom. As much as it is a right to have two people express their love through marriage, it is also the right of religious institutions to refuse to perform those services based upon the beliefs of their religion. Ultimately, regardless of one’s personal beliefs, it is that deep rooted and ancient belief in some higher power that provides us the basis for right and wrong, and that is one tradition that deserves all of our respect.

Don't Blame Me

Coward.

I’ve spent the last couple of days trying to work out what I wanted to write down here so it wouldn’t sound like some preachy diatribe on the value of gun control. I will say this, though. As far as I can recall, gun ownership has never been a God-given right, despite what the NRA leadership may want people to believe. Truth be told, their leadership will be the reason that we end up with draconian gun control laws, instead of working for responsible gun ownership. From the way they talk, it would seem to me that they are advocating for what could potentially become a Police State, with armed guards on every corner. But then again, talking about responsibility and America seems more like an oxymoron than anything else. After all, how can we as a society, talk about responsibility when idiots spill hot coffee on themselves while driving, and win the resulting lawsuit. We as Americans have seemed to absolve ourselves of any and all self-responsibility possible.

It’s not surprising though. Heck, the NRA leadership would rather blame video games for people dying, instead of the state of our laws and society as it exists in America today. It kind of reminds me of that time only a couple of decades ago when rock music was blamed for serial killings and suicides. Yeah, it had to be all those subliminal messages making guys like Son of Sam kill without reason and kids take a gun to their face. I wonder though, what kind of outrage there would have been had there been a mass outbreak of kids mowing the lawn and doing their chores without an argument had some rock groups been crafty enough to backwards mask those messages into their songs. Nope, much easier to blame someone or something else for what troubles us. Because then, we and people like the NRA leadership and our elected officials don’t have to actually trouble themselves with the real cause of these issues.

No, what this is really about is that word I started out with, because that’s what this all boils down to in the end. In South Carolina we have had yet another senseless mass shooting. At least this time, the kid who did it owned up to what he did and didn’t end up killing himself to boot. That would have been the ultimate cowardly act at the end of a horrific cowardly act. At least we can’t seem to blame the failing health care system for this one – at least not yet. So far, the reason we have why this kid went in and shot up nine people in the middle of practicing their faith is because he “didn’t like black people.” Good job there pal, saving all the white folks from nine God-loving people who were no threat to anyone. If he really wanted to protect all us white folks, he could have gone and found some gang-bangers and shot them up instead. But then, of course, one would have to have at least of modicum of cojones to try to do that. Not one of these guys who have shot up churches, schools, or movie theaters have that though. We only get the next level of their cowardice when they try to hide behind an insanity defense. Christ, at least own up to the fact that you’re a spineless coward – but then again doing that takes some bit of spine anyway, so I guess that’s too much to ask. All these big guys with their guns and the only thing they can do is shoot up a bunch of defenseless people going about their business, not causing any trouble to anyone else.

And our society just keeps on letting things like this happens. It’s not a matter of if, but when and where the next mass murder will take place in America. In all reality, the terrorists are wasting their time, we’re doing a pretty good job of destroying our economy and ourselves without them. They might as well just sit back and watch. I have to agree with the President on one point – we have an issue that seems unique to America out of all the other First World (or any other number) countries out there. We can certainly point out the root causes easily enough, and those do not include music or video games. And yes, it does involve grown-up talks about responsible gun ownership and appropriate gun control laws, among other things. After all, when you have a tool with one, and only one, express purpose – to kill a living thing, responsibility should be at the forefront of the discussion.