March, 2001, LOS ANGELES - Since 1991, I've been working from time to time with a gifted symphony conductor, David Warble, on a project that has become increasingly fulfilling. He asked me then to provide the narration for a symphonic composition by Johan de Meij inspired by the great Tolkien classic, "The Lord of the Rings." It was an intriguing offer. The trilogy is an epic adventure of imagination. But how can that complex heroic fantasy be summarized in a musical narration? This was, I rationalized to myself, to be in concert with orchestral music. That should help bridge the inevitable gaps in the narration. More out of curiosity, mixed with a dash of actor's audacity, I agreed to do it.
The concert was to be performed with the California Wind Orchestra at the Orange County Performing Arts Center, a dazzling new cultural complex south of Los Angeles. The venue, too, was an attraction. Performing there would be a prestigious addition to my credits.
At the rehearsal, I heard the music for the first time. I was blown away! It was soaring. It was dark. It was rousing and lyrical. Altogether, it was richly complex. At that instant, I realized what an extraordinary privilege it was to be working with Dave Warble on this project. The music embodied the splendor and the intricacies of the classic story. The concert was a great success. Since that presentation, I have been performing with him and the glorious music of Johan de Meij all over the country.
Last month took us to Long Island, New York, to perform with the Long Island Philharmonic at the Tilles Center. This time, Dave, the crafty showman that he is, built the evening around symphonic music that have their source in science fiction. The program opened with Gustav Holst's "The Planets." There was John Williams' music from "Star Wars: Episode One-The Phantom Menace." And, of course, "Star Trek" with the works of four composers, Alexander Courage, Jerry Goldsmith, Jay Chattaway and Dennis McCarthy who contributed to the body of "Star Trek" music. The final number on the program was "The Lord of the Rings." The evening was a sell-out success -- in no small part because of the huge turnout of Star Trek fans. After the performance, I visited with many friends and long-time fans.
Thanks to the concert, I had the opportunity to spend some time in the greatest performing arts center in the nation, Manhattan. As I am addicted to doing in New York City, I lived in the theaters. I was finally able to catch up with "Kiss Me Kate," a show I had attempted to see many times before and been disappointed because no tickets could be had. It was a wonderful production, great fun and well worth the tenacious effort to get the tickets. "Dirty Blonde," with Kathy Najimy was both hilarious and moving. The most surprising was "The Full Monty." In the face of the obviously sexually suggestive title, playwright Terrence McNally had written a moving drama of the devastating impact of unemployment on marriages, on a father-son relationship and on one's sense of self-worth. And the music was terrific. It's the best transposition of a popular movie to the musical stage that I have seen. At the Public Theater downtown, I saw a powerful drama by Jessica Hagedorn titled "Dogeaters." Her inspired metaphor for the tortured recent history of the Philippines was soap opera with all its over-the-top emotions and gravely extravagant morality. This edgy drama was galvanized by razor sharp performances by gifted actors like Alec Mapa, Hill Harper, Mia Katigbak and Jo Jo Gonzales. Every production I saw on this visit was -- each in its own way -- superb.
This Manhattan sojourn also gave me the chance to get together with New York friends. A special treat was having lunch with Pat Suzuki, an actress who I worked with some time ago in New York in a production of "Year of the Dragon." This vivacious singer/actress made her splash on Broadway as the star of the original production of Rogers and Hammerstein's "Flower Drum Song." The Japanese American National Museum will be honoring her with the Lifetime Achievement Award next month so I was able to share our plans for the event with her. But without discussions of awards and honors, lunch with Pat is always an entertainment in itself. These were the delightful bonuses I got from travelling to New York for the concert version of "The Lord of the Rings" -- so, thank you Dave Warble.
I gave myself another bonus last week - a weekend in another lively theater city, San Francisco. I saw a marvelous production by the American Conservatory Theater of the award winning British play, "Goodnight Children Everywhere." When I see an American play in London, I'm always impressed by the British actors' amazing ability to do American accents so credibly. Well, the cast of "Goodnight Children Everywhere" does American actors proud. The British accents of these American players were not only astonishingly convincing but specifically south London and one fine actor, Jesse Pennington, even captured the subtle influence that his character having lived in Alberta, Canada, for five years had on his south London accent. The drama was about the resilience of and the heavy cost to children who were moved out of London during World War II to avoid the Nazi air bombings.
The other play of the weekend had enjoyed great success all over the country, in part, I supposed, because of it eye-catching title -- " The Vagina Monologues." I discovered the title to be an absolutely precise description of an evocative play, a passionate assertion of women's sexual individualism. And it was blessed by a company of marvelous actors; Kathleen Califant, who was superb in the prize winning drama, "Angels in America," Lorri Holt, a fine San Francisco actor, and Jill Eikenberry, whom I loved in the television series, "L.A. Law."
Some of the best bonuses though are serendipitous. Just by chance, I happened across one of the people that make San Francisco such a wonderfully unforgettable town. It happened on a trolley.
Almost equal to my love of theater is my passion for all modes of public transportation. And San Francisco is the quintessential city of public transit. It has subways, buses, ferries, light rail and, of course, the fabled cable cars of song and legend. I love riding them all.
San Francisco just added another reason for me to love it more. They installed a new trolley line along the bayshore from the old Ferry Building to the fisherman's wharf area where the ugly Embarcadero Freeway used to be. The freeway had been torn down after the devastation of the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, opening up the beautiful bay to the city. A silver lining can be found even in the awful rubbles of an earthquake. Not only that, but San Francisco, true to its style, placed on the new tracks a system of historic trolley cars. They searched the world over for old trolleys and found them in places like Buenos Aires, Paris and Sydney, Australia. They even bought up the streetcar named Desire from the city of New Orleans. The new trolley route along San Francisco Bay is lined with stately palm trees. A stylish and urbane city has become even more enchanting.
A red trolley came rattling down Market Street. It looked like the kind I used to ride in Los Angeles as a boy. I hopped on and tried to slide my dollar into the fare slot. "My god," the conductor shouted at me. I thought I'd done something wrong. "You're Sulu! Captain Sulu!" he shouted with delight. Immediately, I realized that I had been recognized -- even with my sunglasses on. He stopped me from pushing my dollar in and insisted, "This ride is on me. You've given me some wonderful rides on Star Trek so this one is on me." He absolutely wouldn't allow me to pay my fare. I thanked him and sat down in front near the conductor. From that point on, he regaled not only me, but the entire car with the history of the new trolley system, his love of his job, his passion for San Francisco and his long-time devotion to Star Trek. He told us about his little daughter who he takes with him to the sights around his beautiful city. He had everyone on his car smiling. Then he asked me to sign a piece of paper. I was more than happy to reciprocate for his joyful hospitality. I asked him for his name and he told me it was David Sparks. What a perfect name, I told him, for such a sparkling personality, the sparkplug of the trolley and the spark that lit up the spirits of his passengers.
This city is the captivating city that it is because San Franciscans love San Francisco. And David Sparks is the quintessential San Franciscan. Thank you, David, for a memorable trek in your unforgettable city.
August, 2003, LOS ANGELES - Winston Churchill said of history, "the farther back I look, the farther forward I can see." He believed that the lessons learned from history could prepare us to meet the challenges that we face in the future. Last month, I literally lived the value of Churchill's wisdom with a trip to Williamsburg, Virginia.
As if the 'transporter' from Star Trek had 'beamed' me back in time, I was living in the year 1774, just before the War for Independence from the onerous rule of the English King, George III. As a historic preservationist, I'd always wanted to visit Williamsburg, the colonial capital of Virginia, famous for its historic buildings that had been preserved, restored or recreated to pre-revolutionary times. I'd read that there would be guides authentically dressed to the period. However, I didn't realize how complete that experience back in time would be.
The buildings were magnificently restored. What was truly impressive was the recreation of the context of the times. At the very center of Williamsburg was the Governor's Palace - as it was called. It was a substantial mansion but certainly not a palace in the grand European sense. But to the colonists, this imposing residence was the very symbol of opulence and the King's might. The houses of even the wealthy colonials seemed modest in contrast. Anchoring both ends of the main street, Duke of Gloucester, were the two significant structures of the capital, the Wren Building of the College of William and Mary, the seat of learning, at one end and the Capitol with the House of Burgesses, the seat of governance, at the other end. In the House of Burgesses, we sat in the seats that the Virginia representatives sat as we listened to the authentically clad historic interpreter recount all that transpired in this great hall. She pointed to a youngster and said that he may be sitting in the very seat from which Patrick Henry thundered against the King's taxes. He giggled self-consciously. She pointed to another teen-ager and said that she could be seated where Thomas Jefferson sat. She touched the wood of her seat with renewed awe. The docent personalized the past. She made history vibrantly real to a group of twenty-first century tourists. As the crowd moved on, I lingered in the great hall admiring the architecture. The docent approached me smiling. This faithful representative of history clad in colonial garb then, unexpectedly, broke the time barrier. Very discreetly, she whispered, "I have been a life-long Star Trek fans and was delighted to see you in the group. Would it be possible to get your autograph?" It was charming. I, who had depicted the future in fiction, connected with this wonderful spokesperson for the past. Arleen Donikowsky is a woman who spans the centuries with equal devotion to the past and the future.
There were no cars in the historic district. If one didn't walk, there were horse drawn carriages for those who were willing to pay. Most people walked - as did most people then. When one talked to the people dressed in colonial garb, they talked as people of their time. The shocking news that they shared with us was the report of some up in Boston who had dressed up as Indians and dumped English tea into Boston Harbor as a protest against the King's unjust tax. The people of Williamsburg certainly shared the sense of outrage against the tax. However, dumping the tea into the harbor, they thought, was rather "extreme." At noon, there was a fife and drum parade down Duke of Gloucester Street and we got a good sense of the martial spirit of the colonists. There were people dressed as colonials who spoke with Scottish or Hungarian accents because they had recently arrived as immigrants to America - as indeed there were immigrants back then. When we toured the houses of the wealthy, there were black slaves that did the cooking and cleaning. But they told us of others who had been freed and worked as blacksmiths or craftsmen. We visited a carpenter's workshop where furniture for the town was made in the traditional way. In this city of many races, backgrounds and social station, there was warmth, civility, graciousness, and a sense of community. We had dinner in historic eating establishments like the 18th century chophouse, King's Arm Tavern or Christiana Campbell's Tavern, which was George Washington's favorite, where menus offered traditional fare of the time. Costumed musicians playing the lute or other quaint period instruments provided the entertainment as we dined.
The three day visit was truly "beaming back" into history. The sights, sounds, tastes, and spirit of colonial Williamsburg surrounded us completely. We got a real sense of the colonial spirit of mutual caring when we were caught in a sudden summer storm one evening just as we were leaving the historic district. Sopping wet, we were dashing back to our hotel when suddenly a lone s.u.v. came driving down the road. The driver opened the car window and shouted, "Here, use these," threw out umbrellas and drove off - no charge, no request for their return, just a simple gesture of kindness. We accepted the umbrellas with drenched gratitude. The colonial spirit of mutual help carried over into the 21st century.
From my visit to Williamsburg, I got a renewed understanding of the daily struggles and challenges faced by the Virginia colonists. Whatever their station, everyone had a role to fulfill and a responsibility to the community. There was a spirit of interdependence and mutual assistance and, at the same time, a pressing hunger for justice. The leaders then were extraordinary men of principal and vision. American democracy was born out of this mix. The ringing words, "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal" were articulated out of the fusion of the spirit and events of these times. Yes, they lived with slavery. Yes, only educated landowners could vote. Yes, the women had no role in leadership. Yes, there were inconsistencies with the realities of the times. Yet, out of those societal discrepancies rose the vision of a nation of shining ideals, the framework for America. Our democracy is a continuing work in progress - and through the years, we have been making progress.
So, as a Californian, I am troubled by the mockery that is being made of our democratic electoral procedure by the irresponsibility of the recall of a recently re-elected governor. The recall is an important citizens' tool in a democracy to be used, as the constitution states, in cases of "malfeasance in office." It is not a tool to be used by bad losers of a legitimate election. I did not vote for the governor. I do not like him despite the fact that he and I are of the same political party. However, in a democracy, we accept the will of the majority and prepare for the next election to get rid of a bad politician. Just because you lost an election, that does not mean the losing minority has the right to recall him eight months later. I do not like President George Bush. I didn't vote for him. I feel he has been a disaster for the nation and the economy. He didn't even win the popular vote. However, the Supreme Court in a lawful procedure appointed him. Therefore, I have accepted that fact as part of the process and have waited to work for his replacement with the next election.
It is rather ironic that I am advocating the replacement of President Bush because last April I played a member of his cabinet, Secretary of Transportation Norman Mineta, in a television film which will be aired on Showtime cable channel on Sunday evening, September 7. It is titled, "DC 9/11: Time of Crisis," and is about the Bush administration during the days immediately following the horrors of September 11, 2001. My friend, Timothy Bottoms, plays President Bush. It is a tense drama of the response of the Bush administration to the trauma of horrific events. I hope you will all be able to catch it.
July, 2003, LOS ANGELES - As the lyrics of the Rogers and Hammerstein song from "Carousel" rejoice, "June is busting out all over. All over the meadows and the hills." For me, June burst out all over America from the islands of Hawaii to the towers of Chicago to the green rolling hills of Tulsa, Oklahoma, with a day on the tiny island nation of the Republic of Kiribati thrown in for good measure.
June began with a Star Trek convention in Honolulu followed by a floating version of that convention known as a Star Trek cruise around the islands of Hawaii. It was grand sailing from one paradisiacal isle to another with fans - many who have become friends over the years. I'd been to most of the islands of Hawaii many times before. I'd hiked down into the spectacularly sere crater of the extinct volcano, Haleakala, on Maui. I'd marveled at the unearthly sight of the steaming moonscape of Volcano National Park on the big island of Hawaii. I was awed by the beauty of the undersea life as I snorkled in the crystalline waters of Hanauma Bay on the main island of Oahu. But, this was my very first visit to the fabled island of Kauai. As the ship sailed into the port of Nawiliwili, the lush tropical foliage seemed to cascade down the mountainside and over the cliffs like a verdant lava flow. I wanted to explore this island as much as I could within the limit of the day we had in port. I scheduled a boat ride up the Wailua River to the fabled Fern Grotto as well as a helicopter tour over the lush green majesty of this island known as the "Garden Isle."
We sailed up the slow flowing waters of the Wailua River in a thatched flat bottom boat with Hawaiian musicians serenading us on board with the lilting melodies of the islands. The jungle overflowed the riverbank and seemed to be testing the waters with their green tendrils dipping into the river. This, we were told, is the favorite island of Hollywood film makers. Movies from "South Pacific," "Donavan's Reef" with John Wayne, "Blue Hawaii" with Elvis Presley and the recent "Tears of the Sun" with Bruce Willis to television series such as "Fantasy Island," "Hawaii 5-0" and "Magnum P.I." have been filmed on Kauai.
On reaching the headwaters of the Wailua, we disembarked for a brief hike to the Fern Grotto, an almost cathedral-like shallow cave abundant with lacy ferns. The musicians from the boat, who trekked up with us, sang the "Hawaiian Wedding Song." It was so romantic. We could easily understand why so many couples choose to get married in this dream-like setting. We cruised lazily back down the Wailua, now eagerly looking forward to our afternoon helicopter ride over this magnificent island.
Kauai is singular. It has the wettest spot in the world, Mount Wai'ale'ale. And, weather here can change on a dime. What had been a beautifully sunny morning suddenly turned into dark churning clouds in the afternoon. As if maliciously on cue, when the 2 o'clock take off time of our helicopter tour came, it started to rain. Prudently, the tour operators cancelled our flight and my anticipation of a bird's eye tour of Kauai was washed out. As a consolation, we did the only other activity available. We took the port shuttle and spent a rainy afternoon at the local K mart. There was a price to be paid for the lush tropical beauty of this island - drenched frustration. At least I was able to stock up on Macadamia nuts from K mart. I salved my disappointment with plans for a return visit to Kauai.
The visit to the Republic of Kiribati was a legal mandate that our Norwegian registered cruise ship had to fulfill. As a foreign registered ship departing from a U.S. port, it was required that it stop at, at least, one foreign port before it came back into the port of Honolulu. Kiribati, a speck of a coral atoll in the Pacific, was that required foreign stop. A short tender trip and a quick hike around a blisteringly hot atoll was enough for me. I quickly retreated to the air-conditioned comforts of the cruise ship.
A meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Japanese American National Museum took me to the great city of Chicago later in the month. Our Museum is not only building a growing base of support in the Chicago area, but also preparing a major exhibit on the resettlement of Japanese Americans in the Midwest after their internment during World War II. This was an opportunity for the trustees to meet and talk with the people of Chicago about that history and to thank the supporters of the Museum. Of course, for a passionate lover of architecture like me, visiting Chicago is always a joy. Just walking around this city that gave birth to the skyscraper and continues to innovate with high-rise buildings is an inspiration. I even managed to squeeze in an evening of theater in a Chicago landmark, the Looking Glass Theater. The play was based on Studs Turkel's book, "Race," adapted and directed by David Schwimmer from the television series, "Friends." It was a powerful play that received a prolonged standing ovation on the night that I saw it. The "bravo, bravo, bravos" still echo in my ears.
From Chicago, I flew directly to Tulsa, Oklahoma, for another Star Trek convention. This one however, was different. It was in Oklahoma. To me, a convention in Oklahoma always brings back poignant memories. I had a convention scheduled in Oklahoma City on the weekend after Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek, passed in October of 1991. It was the year of the 25th anniversary of his, now legendary, creation. Gene was a dear friend as well as my producer. The pain, the sense of loss, was agonizing. I had seriously considered canceling my appearance. However, the organizer persuaded me to think of the fans there that were also grieving Gene's death. I decided to go with the plan to make the convention a memorial to Gene Roddenberry. But, even in death, so typical of Gene, his idealism prevailed over our grief. In sharing our memories of him - mine personal, theirs through inspiration - our recollections turned the event into a celebration of his life and ideals. I will always remember that gathering in Oklahoma as one of the most moving conventions that I was ever a part of. I shared that memory with the fans gathered in Tulsa this hot June afternoon. Some had been at that convention more than a decade ago but most had not. Indeed, a good number were first timers. We were, however, still together, brought there that weekend by the undying power of Star Trek, Gene's optimistic vision of our common destiny. His ideals and vision, as the Vulcan greeting goes, "live long and prosper."
June, 2003, LOS ANGELES - In celebrating the diversity of America, the United States government recognizes the heritage of each group of ethnic Americans virtually every month of the year. May has been designated Asian Pacific American Heritage Month, and, in observation of it, I was invited by the U.S. Department of Defense to tour seven military bases in Germany.
Asian Pacific American heritage is a topic that I have spoken on before but I sensed that the Star Trek magnet had something to do with the invitation as well. I accepted the invitation with relish.
Last month, the war in Iraq was an issue that had many in our nation -- and the world -- at odds with each other. But, whether hawk or dove or an owl somewhere in between, I think many of us felt a strong connection with the U.S. and British soldiers on the battlefield. They were our friends and neighbors out there in Iraq. Their courage and sacrifice, their professionalism and technological effectiveness, were amazing. I swelled with pride as I saw the brutal dictatorship of Saddam Hussein brought down by our combat forces.
As I watched the news on television, I saw something else. I saw an American military that I had not seen before. I saw both men and women of all races as soldiers, and, distressingly, as prisoners of war and as casualties. I saw a U.S. military that truly reflected the vast diversity of American society today. I wanted to visit the military communities in Germany to thank our soldiers for a job well done and their families for their sacrifices. I also wanted to applaud the U.S. Army for its progressive diversity program. This rare opportunity was something like a non-singing, non-dancing, all-talking Bob Hope tour of our military communities in Germany. In addition, as it turned out, the tour included convivial gatherings with groups of Star Trek friends as well.
It was a whirlwind tour. Two nights in Bamberg, a couple of nights in Ansbach, then on to Hohenfels, a night in Heidelberg, then two in Darmstadt, a weekend in Mannheim, then on to Wurzburg. It was constant packing and unpacking, meeting the brass and signing autographs for the soldiers, traveling from one base to another with my speech, "A Salute to Liberty" on Asian Pacific American heritage, at each base as the centerpiece. I collected plaques, beer steins, commemorative coins, and other gifts after each speech. The welcome was tremendous. The tour was exhilarating and enlightening. I saw and experienced so much. A tour of the Combat Maneuver Training Center at Hohenfels, with cutting edge technology combined with a Hollywood back-lot style recreation of a Slavic village complete with Slavic-speaking villagers more believable than any Hollywood extra, was most impressive. At Ansbach, I sat in an Apache helicopter wearing a high tech helmet equipped with night vision targeting lens. I visited storybook villages with cobble-stoned streets that were hundreds of years old. I toured regal palaces. The Residence, the palatial home of the Bishop prince of Wurzburg, was gloriously restored after the devastating bombing it suffered during World War II.
The formal garden at the palace of Swartzengen was almost as spectacular as the one at Versailles. In a magnificent sarcophagus on the altar of the Cathedral of Bamberg are the remains of the only Pope outside of the Vatican. In Bamberg, I discovered a great beer unique to that town called routbier that has a rich, dusky tang like smoke. It has to be tasted to be appreciated. The tour was memorable, made even more unforgettable by a vegetable called spargel -- a rare, seasonal white asparagus. I happened to be there at the height of spargel season. As an honored guest of constantly changing hosts, this prized delicacy was served to me at almost every dinner at each stop. As a good guest, I enjoyed the spargel until it almost grew out of my ears. The welcome was generous and warmly embracing. Glowing memories of my tour of Germany will be with me forever. My heartiest appreciations to all of the good people at each of the military communities I visited for their grand hospitality. And a special note of thanks to Sharon Yelder of the U.S. Department of Defense in Germany. She is the indefatigable problem-solver who initiated the idea of my visit and coordinated the entire trip with grace and skill.
Wherever I go, there are communities of Star Trek friends as well. I had visited Mannheim less than six months ago for a Star Trek convention but there we were together again - organized by dear Sylvia Strybuc.
This was another wonderful opportunity to enjoy a convivial Saturday evening with old friends and new fans. Roger Hofstetter and friends even drove in from Basel, Switzerland, to join us. It was wonderful.
At the end of my military tour, I gave myself a few days in Munich. Filip Krejcik, a friend who lives not far from Munich, picked me up for a visit to his village, Deggendorf. He had even arranged for a guide from the city tourist bureau. Deggendorf is a charming, formerly walled village with an historic Rathaus or city hall. We climbed the ancient stone steps of the Rathaus spire to its very top. We saw the quarters of the keeper of the spire who rang the old city bell. The view from his window was panoramic.
From the medieval spire of the Rathaus, we strolled through the village down to the primordial flow of the great river of Europe, the Danube. A lone sculler was practicing on the fast-flowing water. That evening, we had a specially prepared dinner at Filip's new restaurant called Vis a Vis. It was salmon served with that special recurring treat, spargel -- another unforgettable dining experience.
One day of my stay in Munich was spent at a somber historic landmark nearby - the concentration camp at Dachau. Today, it is a museum of the inconceivable horrors that went on there. At the entrance is a wrought iron gate with the words, "Arbeit macht frei" - work makes you free - shaped in iron into it. Two of the barracks that housed the prisoners have been rebuilt. The others are only indicated by the row after row of the concrete foundations that remain. The gas showers and the crematorium remain chillingly as they were right beside each other. The main administration building, which also housed the kitchen and washroom, is the principal exhibit area. It is hard to walk through the displays of such barbarous inhumanity. I learned that the concentration camp was built in 1933 as a prison initially for the political opponents of the Nazis.
Then the gypsies were rounded up, followed by the homosexuals, then the religious leaders. It was after "kristallnacht," - the night of the anti-Jewish rampage in November 1938 - that the Jews began to be brought to Dachau. It was a sobering reminder that injustice against any isolated minority, no matter how distant and unrelated, becomes a menace to me. In the climate of terrorist anxiety today, we must be mindful that the threat to the civil liberties of Arab Americans also becomes an assault on me. It is, as well, a threat to the fundamental ideals of America. As I viewed the exhibit at Dachau, I understood profoundly why we Americans celebrate Asian Pacific American heritage in the month of May and observe the heritage of other groups throughout the year. We are all connected. Out of the dark lessons of history, I hope we can forge a brighter tomorrow.
May, 2003, LOS ANGELES - April is supposed to bring with it the renewal of life and the warming breath of springtime. But, as I looked out the plane window descending on Toronto's international airport, I saw the landscape blanketed in white. It was a beautiful snowscape but it didn't look like spring. It was going to be cold in Toronto. On the plane, there were a few people wearing surgical masks. Friends back in Los Angeles had cautioned me about SARS, severe acute respiratory syndrome, which seemed to be occurring in unusual numbers in Toronto. Instead of the spring renewal of life, the air in this Canadian city was cold and chilled with the fear of death.
I was flying into Toronto to begin work on an exciting new television film about which I will write more extensively in August - a sly tease to build up interest in a show that will air in September.
I was flying into Toronto because I had work, and I was forging on despite friends' concerns because I felt that the media had over amplified the fear of this mysterious disease, SARS. One should, of course, exercise reasonable caution, but I think too many people have a tendency to be stampeded by media reports without placing them in context. Many more people die every year from influenza than they have from SARS. Toronto is one of the cleanest, most fastidiously sanitation conscious metropolitan areas in all of North America. And the city had acted quickly to contain the few people who were sick.
Certainly, I think it might be prudent to avoid travel to China, where the disease seems to be spreading in worrying numbers. But irrational fear can be just as damaging as an epidemic. Chinese restaurants all over North America have been empty desolation zones because of this irrational fear. Without fear, I had my first dinner in Toronto at a Chinese restaurant. I love Chinese food but, more than my fondness of Moo Goo Gai Pan, that night, I was making a statement. "There is nothing to fear but fear itself," said President Franklin Roosevelt. But, alas, my Chinese restaurant was skimpily patronized. The food was great and the service was fantastic. I dined in regal semi-solitude. The next morning, when I opened up the local paper, there was a photo of the Prime Minister of Canada, Jean Cretien, dining with gusto on delicious Chinese cuisine. It's ironic that in these hysterical times, delightful dining can also be a show of courage and political leadership.
I had another wonderful dining experience in this month of holy religious observances. Jewish friends invited me to their Seder dinner.
They hosted a gathering of their friends that embraced the religious, ethnic, cultural, and generational diversity of the Los Angeles community. Before dinner, Passover rites were observed and then each guest was asked to read selected excerpts from the writings, thoughts, and observations of someone from history. The shining words of Thomas Jefferson were read as well as those of an anonymous slave. The wise words of Kofi Anan were read as well as those of a victim of the Armenian holocaust. The ringing words of Robert Kennedy were read as well as those of a migrant farm worker. The words of Franklin Roosevelt's Executive Order 9066, which sent Japanese Americans into World War II American internment camps, were read as well as those of an Arab American civil liberties advocate. At this very special Seder dinner, the food for the spirit was as nourishing and savory as the delicious food for the body.
April is also the month of my birth, and it was wonderful to have so many friends, and fans remember my birthday on April 20. Through this column, may I give each and every one who sent me their birthday wishes, my heartiest thank you hug. You all make it a joy to continue collecting more of the many, many birthdays that I have already collected. You make it a true blessing to "live long and prosper."