A friend of mine is sick, and it reminded me of the first time I truly recall being sick, and spending time on my back. I was probably 10 years old or so, and had a late onset of the chicken pox. It was pretty miserable. I was itchy, crabby, splotchy, everything associated with it.
I slept into the early afternoon on the second day of the illness, and my mom came home with a surprise. Believe it or not, dear readers, it was a book!
Ahh yeah! Star Trek The Original Series #76, The Captain’s Daughter, by Peter David. Now as a 10 year old, this was the most exciting thing I could recall. My mom not only thought of me while I was sick, but paid attention to the fact that I was getting into Star Trek. Very cool, mom! Double cool for encouraging reading, now that I look back at it.
This was my first foray into science fiction. Sure I’d seen the TV show, but when you involve yourself in reading, it’s actively in your imagination, not passive. I loved this book, and really loved that they delved into the family of one of the crew members. The show didn’t usually look at familial relationships that deeply (Who the heck was watching Wesley anyway? He kinda just ran around the ship and then touched buttons…)
Now that I’m older, I wished this hadn’t propelled me into endlessly reading Star Trek books, good and bad, for the next 10 years, and that I’d spent more time getting into the sci-fi I loved through my twenties to present. But it was still happiness brought from being sick. Without The Captain’s Daughter to take my mind off of scratching, I wouldn’t be writing today.
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