Majel Barrett, the widow of Gene Roddenberry, founding father of the Star Trek franchise, died on Dec 18th from complications of Leukemia at the age of 76 in her home in Bel Air, California. A devoted wife to Gene who died in 1991, she is survived by their only son.

She acted in almost every spin off series from the original classic Star Trek first as Number One in the pilot episode under Captain Christopher Pike. The role stirred controversy among network executives who could not accept a female commander so she was reintroduced as Nurse Christine Chapel, assistant to Dr. Leonard McCoy, with a secret crush on Mr. Spock.

She went on to star in The Next Generation as Ambassador Lwaxana Troi, daughter of the fifth house, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Ring of Betazed. Often providing a complex dilemma for her daughter, Lt. Commander Deeana Troi, chief counselor and the longtime paramour of Commander Riker. Mrs. Barrett’s last appearance on The Next Generation was in the seventh and final season in “Dark Page”, a complex character study when her meta conscious mind collapses upon itself as a result of awakening guilt over the death of her first daughter, Kestra, an episode that featured a young Kirsten Dunst. It was filled with psychological imagery as Deeana enters her mother’s mind to help her deal with the guilt of the loss of a young child. She also appeared as Lwaxana Troi in Deep Space 9 and as the voice of the computer on TNG, Voyager and in the movies.

Before Star Trek, she had guest starring roles in such shows as Bonanza, The Untouchables and Leave It To Beaver. Ten days before her death it was announced that her voice would be in the new Star Trek film due out in May 2009 in already completed voice-over work. She will always be remembered as The First Lady Of Star Trek.

Trying to explain a theory of science to a high school class at 7:30 AM is like walking blindfolded through a dense forest at night, especially when it comes to illustrating The Theory of Everything which attempts to connect all the fundamental interactions of nature using a single model. How those elemental correlations cohesively relate, remains the focus of much debate.  Often suggested by “String Theorists“, it’s the ever emerging view of a different form of cosmic construction than the standard model of particle physics, using eleven dimensions.

Mention holograms, associated with its principles, also part of the Star Trek Universe, and watch an ear or two perk up, pointed or not, perhaps even comparing the universe to a bowl of Spaghetti with or without marinara sauce, also suggesting that legendary actress Sophia Loren had an Epiphany when she was quoted as saying, “Everything you see I owe to Spaghetti.”

Another analogy is to compare the cosmic string concept to dental floss, minted green or white, with or without wax. When finished flossing, rolling it up in the palm of your hand into a ball and thinking, “Could this be a scientific model that defines the structure of the Universe?”.

“Nah”, as the used ball of floss, discarded, travels clockwise, a scientific observation in the form of a spiral as it flushes down the septic tank.

“This Little Pond of Goo,” is the overly simplistic description of the mix of amino acids, the building blocks that combine to form the origin of all earthly life, eloquently coined by Q in “All Good Things“, the series finale of Star Trek - The Next Generation. An oozing mix of gook dripping from Q’s hand as he conveys to a perplexed Captain Picard that it was his actions that would lead to the impending destruction of all life.

Another analogy can apply to this descriptive portraiture, a stretch comprising the delusion of a fictional Imp or perhaps the ideas of a writer on  a satirical romp through reality’s imagination not constructed from a science fiction format. All that is needed is a clear observation to see folly reminiscent of The Little Pond of Goo in real life. A political quagmire of misinformation, ideological failure and greedy self interest for nearly eight years, waiting for history to judge the direction the leader and his crew dictated, an execution of unscrupulous ethics and unsuccessful philosophy. A predicament, moving towards the precipice, unable to stop its path toward the cliff, the only control of which is the speed of approach as a wingless bird attempts flight.

A mess of events created by the Captain in a reflection of his demise. His impending doom approaching as hope broadens with simultaneous anticipation of further potential transformation  in the time left before change, resulting in the quiet  patience within the Pond Of Goo, hoping the precipitation of new possibilities would define a better direction for a more promising future as his destructive impact begins to dissipate.

In Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, a Nov 2nd New York Times editorial, Frank Rich draws a comparison between the world Barack Obama came from and the 1967 film of the same name. It was directed by Stanley Kramer and starred Katherine Hepburn, Spencer Tracy and Sidney Poitier.

A poignant look at liberal values tested when the daughter in a white family - portrayed by Hepburn’s real-life niece, Katherine Houghton - introduces a highly educated black man, Dr. Prentice - played to perfection by Sidney Poitier - who she recently met on a trip to Hawaii and plans to marry in one week. A hasty surprise dinner with the future in-laws, controversial for its time with racial tensions on both sides explored with drama and nervous humor. It was also the last of a series of nine films pairing Katherine Hepburn with Spencer Tracy, earning her the second of four Oscars as Best Actress, and marking the final performance in the long distinguished career of Spencer Tracy who died less than three weeks after the film was completed. Although dated, and a bit sentimental in a syrup-ey way, its worth watching if only to see the underlying affection between these two actors with a relationship that remains a legendary part of Hollywood’s golden era, and perhaps seeing some parallels with Barack Obama’s life.

The President-elect seems as if he could be the product of the kind of union portrayed in the film between the Sidney Poitier character and Hepburn’s on-screen daughter. Then divorce and remarriage, transplanted to Indonesia for four years, finally shipped back to live with his mother’s parents in Hawaii,  essentially raised by a white grandmother with a strong Katherine Hepburn liberal sensibility who also understood the importance of bestowing children with self-confidence, independence, the ability to articulate their thoughts and weigh conflicting options so they can make better, more informed choices. Well prepared for the time when there will no longer be anyone around to protect them from the consequences of their decisions.

The loss of a defining relationship such as this (Barack Obama’s grandmother Madelyn Dunham died on November 2nd 2008), is never easy at any age, especially when its the last of the parental figures to die, the final physical link when all the previous familial generations is severed. Memories, previously distant, are brought to the forefront, once taken for granted, now a bit more tangible and meaningful, reaffirming the defining experiences such as the subtler ones formally unnoticed, of things that have evolved from the guidance of the one who is no longer alive. This has a distinct Shakespearean feel especially with respect to the timing of events.

On the eve of winning a crowning achievement when the weight of the world is about to be laid on his shoulders, with only the character that has been developed, awaiting the unknown tests of history yet to come, not only from adversaries, but allies as well.

For more on the distinguished careers of screen legends Katherine Hepburn, Spencer Tracey and Sidney Poitier, follow these links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Katherine_Hepburn
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spencer_Tracy
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sidney_Poitier
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guess_Who%27s_Coming_to_Dinner

My place of birth, thought to be unusual by most, seemed perfectly ordinary to me, taking place in Central Antarctica during an excavation expedition not far from the South Pole. As I sat drinking a cup of Java at the corner Starbucks, I remembered that the expedition was headed by Fritz, the great great grandson of Fabian Gottlieb von Bellingshausen , of the same surname. Fabian, an admirer of Captain James Cook, was approved by Czar Alexander I of Russia to lead that second expedition exploring the southern most continent from 1819-21. A wise choice as a graduate from the Kronstadt naval academy at age 18 who rose quickly to Captain than Admiral in the Imperial Russian Navy.

My mother, the late Gleda Heyworth-Smythe, born in Manhattan’s Greenwich Village, was a liberal woman’s rights activist and early birth control advocate, educated in Oceanography from Colombia University. Often arrested by the police for her public protests, she was a descendant from a family of Dutch Aristocrat emigrates who met my father, Terrance Smythe , a Theoretical Biologist from Bristol, England, while in chemistry class at Colombia. They soon fell in love and both applied and were accepted for the expedition, posted on the University bulletin board by Fritz Von Bellingshausen: ” Seeking Scientists to retrace my ancestors circumnavigation of the globe - Three years- Funded by the Von Bellingshausen foundation.”

Mom and Dad were married by uncle Fritzi, also Captain on the vessel, Suvorov III. The ships logs recorded the event. I was conceived during their two year exploration of Antarctica. My birth certificate read Fredrick Fabian Smythe . It was during this expedition that several green inscribed stone tablets near the south pole were found in 1947. I suppose it seemed natural that I would become an Investigative Journalist with an interest in photography, especially when I applied, years later, for a position at the North City Bugle, a newspaper periodical.

Odd occurrences, unexplained curiosities were my interest. Cultural mysteries that defied explanation. This is where it all began, as I started the chronicle of experiences during my career, gazing at the half eaten piece of apple pie that lay before me on the Starbucks counter.

It all started as soon as i began working at the Bugle with my first story, recorded in my journal, “Uncovering The Tail Of Nothing. “It was nothing that was circular, two-sided and dark. One could only describe it as something six meters high that hovered without movement.” This investigation led me to earn the title of the Bugle’s ACE reporter. My career had begun in earnest.

Imagine the first day you moved into your house or new apartment, maybe that high priced condo which is now plummeting in value. The first morning brew of fresh Peruvian coffee permeates the air, beans grounded just minutes before in your brand new coffee grinder bought from the basement level of Macy’s on thirty-fourth street, sold in the kitchenware’s department. The refrigerator door yields the container of milk and while reaching for the sugar bowl the unhappy realization dawns that it is completely empty. Panic sets in until a thought crystallizes: “perhaps this is a wonderful opportunity to borrow a cup of sugar.”

Knocking on the door of the adjacent apartment, it opens and the fantasy of meeting your idealized soul mate as the words “How do you do?” resound through the air as a soft echo in mind’s eye. Those words have special meaning. They are in fact the basis that led to the creation of one of the baby boomers’ most beloved television icons: Howdy Doody.

A simple marionette controlled with twelve strings became a friend to millions of children. A creation of puppeteers Velma Wayne Dawson and Rufus Rose, Double Doody Howdy - one of the stand in puppets used on the show - is now a coveted part of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC. A pioneer in children’s programming with a western theme, it was the place we first met Clara-bell, the clown who was mute and communicated with horns and the notorious seltzer bottle. Originally played by Bob Keeshan, the beloved Captain Kangaroo, who as captain of his enterprise fostered warm relationships between grandparents and children.

Buffalo Bob Smith was the first voice of Howdy and remained his human alter ego for its entire thirteen year run (1947-60) - an amazing hallmark of television history. In fact, Photo Doody Howdy, used in photographs and parades, was sold at auction in 1997 to a private collector for $113,000.

All this and more from a fantasy encounter with a cup of sugar.

“It’s Howdy Doody time,
It’s Howdy Doody time.
Bob Smith and Howdy, too,
Say howdy doo’ to you.
Lets give a rousing cheer,
‘Cause Howdy Doody’s here.
It’s time to start the show,
So kids let’s go!”

(Please open the article to see the flash file or player.)

As the news spread that Paul Newman, one of the most magnetic actors to be gifted to the film industry, had died on Friday Sept 26th, 2008, from cancer at the age of 83, a sense of passing filled the air as if nature had paused to recognize the last embrace of a defining soul that left a long and important footnote on history.

A modest man, he was the first to admit: “The light that you think you emanate is not necessarily the light that other people see. You think of yourself as a shy, retiring whatever it is, and some other people will see you in an entirely different way.”

Newman on film often played the anti-hero, redefining it to contemporary society, impressing it with endearing character by becoming an affectionate rebel with a cause and earning the awe of the audience along the way. His striking good looks, unmistakable blue eyes and raw male sexuality never detracted from his performances but added a unique angst. His role as Brick in the 1958 film adaptation of Tennessee Williams‘ Cat on A Hot Tin Roof, opposite Elizabeth Taylor, is filled with the energy that only he could have generated by projecting an archetype image of sexually ambiguous anger. This was the part that earned him his first of ten Oscar nominations as his career spanned more than fifty years.

What a career it was. An accomplished race car driver, a tireless philanthropist who created his own brand of salad dressing and donated all proceeds to charity and a fifty year marriage to actress Joanne Woodward who he met in the Broadway stage version of Picnic in the mid fifties. He had also been accepted as a student at the Actors Studio in New York and took lessons with Marlon Brando, James Dean, Geraldine Page and Ms. Woodward.

Life did not come easy to him in his career. Many classified him as a hunk and did not take him seriously as an actor although his early roles on TV provided some landmark performances, it wasn’t until his second lead film role, portraying a disfigured prizefighter in Somebody Up There Likes Me that Hollywood began to take him seriously. His second Oscar nomination came playing Eddie Felson in a brilliant performance as The Hustler. It was this role that finally earned him his only Oscar as Best Actor when Martin Scorsese directed him in a sequel of sorts, The Color Of Money in 1986, opposite Tom Cruise. He also won a career achievement Oscar and the Jean Hersholt humanitarian award. He continued to redefine his career while remaining a sex symbol and distinguished character actor well into his seventies.

He and Joanne lived in Westport, Connecticut, a quiet and private life out of the Hollywood limelight. So much could be said about his legacy that its impossible to articulate all in one article except perhaps to say that he was one of the last of the great cinema actors of the twentieth century who leaves over sixty five films of memorable acting. At least we have these performances to remember a life well lived.

Somebody up there liked him and everyone down here loved him, one of Hollywood’s golden boys. For a full list of his performances, see the links below.

- http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/09/27/AR2008092701838.html
- http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000056/
- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Newman

(Please open the article to see the flash file or player.)

(Please open the article to see the flash file or player.)

After the election, it occurred to me that I should read the constitution and clarify what my powers would be. It did no harm to explore being sworn in by the Chief Justice on a cold morning after a storm passed leaving a foot of snow. The stands where the ceremony would take place would be filled with politicians and dignitaries of all kind. The stars of Hollywood shining brightly through the rising sun, as the gods of myth watched. Warren, Jack, Barbara… I was planing to read Plutarch’s lives the week before, review the works of Socrates, Plato and Aristotle.

I thought of the words of Lewis Carroll:
Alice came to the fork in the road. “Which road do I take?”
“Where do you want to go?” responded the Cheshire cat.
“I don’t know,”
“Then,” said the cat, “it doesn’t matter.”

I reflected on the wisdom of Ronald Laing “The range of what we think and do is limited by what we fail to notice. And because we fail to notice that we fail to notice, there is little we can do to change; until we notice how failing to notice shapes our thoughts and deeds.”

As I prepared to take the oath of office, hand over heart, the nurse came in and handed me the plastic cup with medications from the tray and a glass of water, and said “Here are your pills, G. W.”

Mistakes are a part of the dues one pays for a full life.Sex appeal is 50% what you’ve got and 50% what people think you’ve got. A woman’s dress should be like a barbed-wire fence: serving its purpose without obstructing the view. It’s a mistake to think that once you’re done with school you need never learn anything new. If you haven’t cried, your eyes can’t be beautiful.

some links for more reading:

- http://eclecticcommons.telldat.net/2007/07/13/fashions-most-enduring-statement/

- http://eclecticcommons.telldat.net/2007/07/30/sophia-loren-a-legend-of-the-lost/

- http://eclecticcommons.telldat.net/2007/09/19/buon-compleanno-sofia-villiani-scicolone-ponti-loren/

I never thought there would ever be a President that I loathed more than Richard Nixon. George W. Bush fits that visceral category, a reaction to the last seven and a half years of his derisive administration. It’s difficult to know where to begin the list, a complex mix of premeditation and incompetence that pervades his tenure in office, often evoking images in mind’s eye of the 1964 cinematic masterpiece, Dr. Stranglove Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb. A Black comedy beautifully directed and co-written by the late Stanley Kubrick and starring George C. Scott, Peter Sellers and James Earl Jones in memorable performances to name just a few.

Based on the novel, Two Hours To Doom - an outrageous Cold War satire of mutual nuclear annihilation. A classic in Kubrick’s array of diverse films that include Spartacus, Lolita, A Clockwork Orange, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Full Metal Jacket and what may prove to be an appropriate caricature of the current Bush administration, Eye’s Wide Shut.

Many of the director’s best characters are obsessive compulsive and perverse in their megalomania. Who can forget Jack Nicholson in Kubrick’s 1980 film adaptation of Stephen King’s chilling novel, The Shining, as a failed writer who becomes a caretaker of an isolated palatial white-house-style hotel. Ghosts of the past slowly invade and control his dark side, leaving him ranting and raving through the corridors of the spacious hotel with his demonic expression and symbolic ax.

How easy it is to imagine those in the highest levels of the Bush Administration portraying characters in a Kubrick film as absurdly demented in their creepy similarity. With a collapsing economy, a war based on fabricated facts and turning a blind eye as Earth approaches ecological disaster as the list continues to grow, these administrators/characters think they can convince the public that what they declare about anything is the best path for America’s destiny. Perhaps a more appropriate comparison is Mr. Bush as Emperor Nero, captured on the January 22, 2007 cover of the New Yorker magazine. A wonderful premise for a Kubrick film.

Then a new book, The Dark Side, written by journalist Jane Mayer, who makes compelling allegations suggesting war crime trials against high Bush administration officials (43) who continue to deliberately disregard Geneva Conventions, denying due process, torturing and justifying it when uncovered.

At this point, dawning reality sets in. This is no cinematic experience or Kubrick satire. It’s a collective nightmare and a dark page in American History.