February, 2001, LOS ANGELES - I continue to be captivated by the popularity and the longevity of the Star Trek phenomenon. It remains a pervasive factor in my life, whether professionally, personally or in my public service activities. And this gift has serendipitously expanded my horizon and enriched my life.
A direct professional tie-in can be viewed on February 18th when an episode of "V.I.P." starring Pamela Anderson is aired on the Fox network. I play the voice of an omniscient super computer that was programmed by a brilliant techno-genius who is a fervent Captain Sulu fan. Hence, my casting as the voice of the computer.
The Star Trek conventions, of course, keep on trekking. My first convention of this year was in the charming city of Portland, Oregon. It was a lively gathering on a cold, damp weekend. Long-time fans mingled with a growing number of young, first-time conventioneers. And, as well, the con gave me the chance to indulge my preservationist interest and again explore the imaginatively restored turn-of-the-century historic district of Portland.
I did voice work last week on a feature film project, cryptically titled, "Noon Blue Apple." I play a mysterious voice that haunts the mind of the lead character. No direct Star Trek connection here other than the fact that the director knew of my work from the original series.
But Star Trek has also afforded me the opportunity to contribute more effectively in a myriad of other areas not related to my professional career. This month, I was honored to serve as the star of a fund-raising dinner to help build a planetarium on the campus of Long Beach City College. With this facility, young students will be able to expand their study of the heavens and let their imaginations soar to the stars. Clearly, without the Star Trek association, I would not have been able to support this important cause as effectively as I was able.
On another occasion this month, I addressed a group of young interns at the Japanese American National Museum on volunteerism. Here again, I was able to connect with them more successfully as Captain Sulu of Star Trek than as the Chairman of the Board of the Museum.
We have a mayoral election coming up this spring in the city of Los Angeles, my hometown. I am supporting the former Speaker of the California Assembly, Antonio Villaraigosa. I know that I was asked to speak at his press conference largely because of the draw of my Star Trek linkage. As well, when I spoke at the Japanese seniors' intermediate care facility, Keiro Services, Star Trek combined with my association with the Japanese American National Museum, were the factors that attracted the large audience of seniors. I chatted with one lady who was 104 years old. She was born in 1896 - having lived in three centuries! In so many unexpected ways, my association with Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry's visionary creation has opened doors that have expanded my life horizon.
But when any hint of self-importance might begin to creep into me and I start believing that my Star Trek association is free entrée to anything, a humbling reminder always seems to bring me back to reality.
This month, my niece, Akemi Takei, sportscaster for KING-TV in Seattle, got married to David Louchheim, a radio sportscaster, on a beautiful beach in Maui, Hawaii. It was a singularly romantic affair, the bride and groom barefoot, with waves crashing in on lava rock outcroppings behind them. The reception was held at a hilltop restaurant overlooking the Wailea Country Club and the turquoise blue Pacific beyond. As we sipped cocktails, nibbled hors d'oeuvres and waited for the sun to set, I slowly became aware of a generational divide. The parents of my niece and David's friends were thrilled to meet me. They were eager to have their pictures taken with me. They told me they were long-time Star Trek fans from back in their college days. The young people, however -- Akemi and David's friends -- were gracious and friendly but rather blasé. In fact, some weren't really that familiar with Star Trek. They, I realized, were the post-Star Trek generation. The passage of time brings with it the larger context of life.
I was forcefully reminded again of the larger context of life on a hike into the crater of the now-dormant volcano, Haleakala on Maui. The crater is vast. And it is heart-stoppingly beautiful. There is a narrow, lava gravel trail that leads down to the bottom. It was irresistible. I had to go down into it. As I tramped down the sere landscape, rich with the burnt colors of inert lava, I imagined what this scene must have been like millennia ago. It was, we were told by a ranger, an inferno of blasting, bubbling, molten red lava. For centuries it spewed up flaming magma from the belly of the earth forming the island of Maui. This place was a hellhole of exploding liquid fire. But now, it was dead calm. Only this scorched and arid crater of unearthly colors remains.As I huffed and puffed my way back up to the volcano's rim - 10,000-feet above sea level -- I thought of the ardent excitement of the middle-aged Star Trek fans of the evening before, and, in contrast, the nonchalant affability of their children. Intense fire and cool, youthful calm. There didn't seem to be that much difference between the human generations and geologic time.
September, 2003, LOS ANGELES - The month of August had for me as its bookends, two massive Star Trek conventions. It began with the yearly Creation Convention in Las Vegas, Nevada, and finished with a colossal extravaganza -- the biggest convention that I have ever attended -- called Dragon Con in Atlanta, Georgia. And set right in the middle of the month was a delightful trip to Louisville, Kentucky, for Easter Seal fundraising events. August was a good month. It was a month of trekking around the country to have fun with supporters and for me to be a supporter of a good cause.
People have often asked me why I do Star Trek conventions. I do them to express my appreciation to the fans for their support. It's a great opportunity to say thank you. I consider the conventions to be an amazing phenomenon. What other show, now more than 37 years old, attracts thousands of multi-generational, multi-national and multi-lingual fans to cities all around this planet to celebrate together? These fans gather for a multitude of reasons, but, at its core, they all share the shining vision of the future that Gene Roddenberry had depicted on Star Trek. I was fortunate in being a part of that future and have enjoyed and been enriched by that association.
The fans' support for Star Trek also extended to backing for each of the individual actors involved. It is very flattering. But, in addition to that ego-warming compliment, their devotion has enhanced our career opportunities as well. I have been able to work on international films - of Australia, Britain, South Korea, and the Philippines. I have been able to work on stage in Scotland and England as well as throughout the U.S. I have worked on films that have taken me on locations as far east as Bucharest, Romania, and as far west as Brisbane, Australia. I know that this is, in large part, because of the backing of the fans of Star Trek. The conventions are great opportunities to personally thank them for that support. Over the years that I've been on the convention circuit, I've come to know many of the regular attendees and they have become friends. So, very simply, the conventions are great fun. They are weekends of whoopee with friends!
None, however, have been as colossal as the convention in Atlanta called Dragon Con from which I just returned. Early estimates were that there were over 30,000 fans attending. I believe it! The turnout was incredible. The convention completely took over two mega-hotels, each with more than 1,000 rooms as well as many other hotels nearby. The streets outside and the hotel lobbies became an enormous flood of people - as well as strange alien life forms.
The Dragon Con experience was as surreal as it was massive. Saturday morning began with a parade down the main street of downtown Atlanta, Peachtree Street. I was at the head of the parade - a very ordinary human Grand Marshall riding a convertible driven by a husky, blonde Klingon warrior. Then, to the stirring sounds of bagpipes, came the most bizarre procession of life forms ever seen on this planet. There was a nine-foot tall insect-like creature spouting steam. There were ethereal beings, pale and gossamer. There were morbid life forms dripping what looked like blood. There was an unruly battalion of Klingon warriors followed by a disciplined platoon of Imperial Storm Troopers looking shiny, white, and lethal. This spectacle of a myriad galactic life forms continued on and on. I finished early so I rushed up to my hotel room balcony and viewed the whole unearthly demonstration from above. This surreal exhibition, however, was not confined just to the parade. The onlookers from the sidewalk appeared as "creatively" put together as the fantastical creatures marching past - all this on a humid Atlanta morning in late August.
That afternoon, Vaughn Armstrong, J.G. Hertzler, and I judged what was called the Miss Klingon Empire Beauty Pageant. Isn't the combination of the word Klingon with beauty an oxymoron? Or, is it just my human prejudice? The victor in this weird and wonderful contest was a belligerently buxom combatant who disgustingly demonstrated her deadly cooking skills. It was outlandish good fun. On Sunday evening, Walter Koenig and I served as the masters of ceremony of the Dragon Con Masquerade. It was another phantasmagoric spectacle. Thank heaven I did not have judging duties at this one.
Dragon Con was a singular experience. However, as at all Star Trek conventions, there were many familiar faces there. The attendees were largely from the South, but there were fans from all over the U.S. as well as a few from abroad. It was good to see Marcus Erbar from Germany who brought photos and a gift from his friend, Johannes. Thank you, Johannes. I would guess that Marcus was the one who had traveled the farthest for this convention.
My trip to Louisville, Kentucky, in the middle of the month was, not only to enjoy a convivial time with supporters, but myself to be a supporter as well. At the invitation of actor and Kentuckian, Conrad Bachmann, I flew to Louisville for a series of fund-raisers for Cardinal Hill Rehabilitation Center supported by the Easter Seals campaign. Cardinal Hill is a clinic that provides rehabilitation programs for children and young people afflicted by disabilities due to a variety of illnesses such as multiple sclerosis, cerebral palsy, and spinal cord injuries. I must say, Kentuckians know how to raise-funds for an important charity while, at the same time, have fun combined with that fabled southern hospitality all in one gracious weekend.
Joining me was a host of actors and musical performers. It was great to meet actor Ed O'Ross, who played the Russian suitor in one of my favorite television series, "Six Feet Under." It was, however, a bit odd to hear him talking in his normal American speech instead of his extremely convincing Russian accent. It's a tribute to his talent that he had me believing that he was a real Russian immigrant. Although I'm not a soap opera viewer, I found myself spending a lot of time with the scintillating, Patrika Darbo, of "Days of Our Lives" and her husband, Rolf, as well as her television husband from the show, Kevin Spirtas. They were, each in their own matchless way, witty, engaging, and great company. During our stay in Louisville, we visited the Louisville Slugger Baseball Museum and Factory, Churchill Downs Race Track and the Kentucky Derby Museum where we enjoyed a tour of the stables and the handsome racehorses. One of the highlights was the opportunity to view glass artists at work at the Kentucky Glassworks. I couldn't resist buying two of their sparkling creations.
The fund-raising events were spread over three evenings. The first was a delightfully entertaining one-man show with Jack Benny impersonator Eddie Carroll. The second was an evening of Bourbon and food tasting, with some of the most popular restaurants of Louisville contributing their most delectable offerings. The weekend concluded with a dazzling gala, the Lily Ball, in the Medallion Ballroom of the historic Seelbach Hilton Hotel. All proceeds went to support the work of the Cardinal Hill Center.
It was impressive seeing the people of Louisville come out in such great numbers to support a vital cause. There was a spirit of community - the businesses, the volunteers, and certainly, the people of Louisville who turned out in such numbers to contribute to the work of an important community institution. It was a privilege to be able to be a part of this splendid effort. I want to especially salute Brian Cullinan, president of Ned Beatty Hope for Children Classic for his devoted work for the charity.
As I write this, I am eagerly anticipating the airing of a television film in which I portray the U.S. Secretary of Transportation, Norman Mineta in "D.C. 9/11: Time of Crisis." It airs on Sunday evening, September 7. The film is a reminder of the horrors we suffered two years ago on September 11. It is also a powerful commentary on our democracy that I play a man who grew up in an American internment camp sixty years ago and is now serving as a member of the President's cabinet. I invite your comments on this film.
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.