Mom hates Star Trek. She calls it "that show with the people with stuff on their heads." I think she probably hates Star Trek: The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine more than the original series, because there are a lot more people with a lot more stuff on their heads, but she didn't like the original series either. Somehow No and I convinced Mom to take us to a Star Trek convention when I was seven or eight. It was at the Civic Auditorium in 1976. One of the things we saw was a preview for a movie coming out which sounded totally boring to me. Then the next summer I wound up seeing it six times: Star Wars.
We were very excited. There were a lot of Klingons and Andorians, as well as humans and Vulcans in Starfleet uniforms. There were communicators and phasers and all kinds of Star Trek paraphernalia to look at. There was someone selling Tribbles! Mom got us a pair, and Star Trek uniform shirts. Mr. Spock was my hero, so mine was blue; No got a yellow one. Or maybe I got the yellow one because, as the older child, I should naturally be the captain.
While standing in a hallway, No and I saw the Salt Monster come up behind Mom and put its hand on her shoulder. We weren't afraid that the monster was really going to reduce Mom to a pile of minerals, but I could barely breathe. I don't remember what Mom's reaction was, but I remember that the Salt Monster seemed pretty benign that day, giving her a little "goodbye" wave as it glided away from us.
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