Living with Dad was like living with a stranger—as a kid I often had trouble connecting and relating to him. But I was always proud of him. Even before Star Trek I’d see him popping up in bit roles on some of my favorite TV shows like Get Smart, Sea Hunt, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. And then one night he brought home Polaroids of himself in makeup and wardrobe for a pilot he was working on. It was December 1964 and nobody had heard of Star Trek. Still, the eight-year-old me had watched enough Outer Limits and My Favorite Martian to understand exactly what I was looking at. Spock’s popularity happened quickly, and soon the fan magazines were writing about dad’s personal life, characterizing us as a “close family.” But the awkwardness that defined our early relationship blossomed into conflict, sometimes smoldering, sometimes open and intense. There were occasional flashes of warmth between the arguments and hurt feelings—even something akin to love—especially when we were celebrating my father’s many successes. The rest of the time, things between us were often strained. My resentment towards my father kept building through the years. I wasn’t blameless, I know that now, but my bitterness blinded me to any thought of my own contribution to the problem. I wanted things to be different for my children. I wanted to be the father I never had, so I coached Maddy’s soccer, drove Jonah to music lessons, helped them with their homework—all the things dads are supposed to do. All the things I wanted to do. So what if my Dad and I had been estranged for years? I was living one day at a time. And then I got his letter. That marked a turning point in our lives, a moment that cleared the way for a new relationship between us.