Star Trek, 19th century English Romanticism, and Bette Midler -
what’s it all got to do with PFO? A parent ponders.
by Pete Moore
“I’m a doctor, not a mechanic!” With the possible exception of “He’s dead, Jim,” this exasperated exclamation is the most famous line of dialogue uttered by Star Trek’s Dr. “Bones” McCoy.
Like Dr. McCoy, many of us are prone to assert what we are and what we are not. It’s easier to define ourselves by specific roles and specific capabilities-to set clear lines of demarcation around our identities-because doing so keeps us in our narrow comfort zones. For example, here are a few things I can declare about myself with relative certainty:
- I’m not a doctor, and I don’t play one on TV. (Unlike Dr. McCoy, or the late DeForest Kelley, the actor who portrayed him.)
- I’m not a poet, and I know it. (In fact, what I don’t know about 19th century English Romantic poet William Wordsworth could fill volumes.)
- I’m not a fan of kitschy, sentimental power ballads, especially ones with seriously clichéd lyrics, like Bette Midler’s rendition of “The Wind Beneath My Wings.”
And yet …there’s something about Star Trek, William Wordsworth and “The Wind Beneath My Wings” that reminds me of PFO. Or at least my perspective on PFO as a parent of two teens in the program (Emily and Colin Moore).
Let’s take Star Trek for a moment. Dr. McCoy’s self-limiting self-image notwithstanding, the show was all about exceeding limits. Heck, the mission of the Starship Enterprise was “… to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no man has gone before!” If that’s not teleporting outside your comfort zone, what is? Beam me up, Jen Band!
In the two years that Emily’s been a member, PFO has certainly taken her where she had never gone before. She admits that when she first considered joining PFO, a primary motivation was that many of her friends were involved. She wanted to see for herself what this “life-changing” experience was all about.
Well, what started as a curiosity was almost instantly transformed into a passion. As Emily described it in one of her college application essays, “I wasn’t prepared for the profound effect that PFO would have on me. It challenged me to become more responsible, accepting, outgoing, and independent. It taught me there is a clear distinction between idealism and action. In other words, don’t just think about change-create it.”
That’s the kind of thing that makes a parent feel both proud and humbled.
Colin, a grade behind Emily, joined PFO for the 2009-2010 year. It’s a little harder to get a glimpse through Colin’s window into PFO, since by nature he’s less spontaneously expressive than his sister. (Also, he hasn’t written as many college essays yet.)
Which is not to say Colin doesn’t express himself, because he most certainly does-through music, writing, acting, music, and humor. And music. But in the day-to-day, Colin tends to keep things close to the vest. That’s probably because, despite my best efforts, Colin has turned out a lot like me.
In fact, when I think of his passion for music, which mirrors my own, and how he is living it through the PFO Music Experience this year, I’m reminded of the classic 1968 debut album by Blood, Sweat & Tears, “The Child is Father to the Man.” (Do a Google image search for the album cover to see what I mean.) The title is actually a slightly misquoted line from a poem written by William Wordsworth in 1802:
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
Well, my heart leaps up when I behold PFO, and when I think about how much it’s teaching Colin. And how much he’s teaching me. The child is father to the man, indeed.
By now you’re probably thinking: that’s all well and good, but what does it have to do with Bette Midler? Maybe not much. But after seeing Emily perform in “Honk!” last year, I was moved to write the following as my Facebook status:
”Today, Emily is my hero. (And so are the rest of the PFO teens.) (And Jen Band.) Congratulations and thank you for being a spark of light, hope and change in a world that desperately needs all three.”
To have children you see as heroes is a gift. So to Emily and Colin, I echo the words that Bette Midler sang in 1988:
Did you ever know that you’re my hero
And everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle,
‘Cause you are the wind beneath my wings.
Corny? Yeah. Schmaltzy? Sure. But it’s my theory, and I’m sticking with it. (Even though quoting 1980s power ballads would otherwise be well outside my comfort zone.)
So there you have it-a free association of random thoughts from my scattered, Baby Boomerish brain. Personally, I like to look for connections between seemingly unrelated ideas. Those connections provide a kaleidoscopic lens through which to view the PFO experience. And the view is great.
In fact, connections may be what PFO is ultimately all about.
PFO connects our teens to something deeper, more generous, and more empathetic in themselves-a spirit of service that transcends the shallow narcissism of too much of today’s popular culture.
PFO connects with our family’s faith tradition, Unitarian Universalism, whose core principle of “the inherent worth and dignity of every person” finds its parallel in PFO’s values of inclusion and respect.
PFO connects us to our teens by engaging us in their amazing journey and allowing us to share in their growth and transformation.
PFO connects everyone who is touched by it.
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