The crazy things we fans will do

Fandom is a strange bird.
In hindsight, I’m surprised at how much it has played a role in my life, especially in the last 10 or so years.
Most of my childhood was spent in the 1970s. I liked many things from that time, but nothing more so than “Star Trek” and “Star Wars.” I was certain I was the biggest fan alive of those two science fiction stalwarts. Then, in the early 1990s I began attending conventions and learned just how wrong I was.
I had my Captain Kirk shirt and a few toys, but that was nothing compared to the elaborate costumes and models that people had at these shows. There were fans that had patterned their lives around these programs and their characters. I was humbled and shamed – clearly put in my place.
I had the same experience in the realm of sports, feeling I was the biggest Denver Broncos fan on the planet – until I started going to games in the late 1980s. Sheesh! Do any of these people have a life?
I came to accept that I was not the biggest fan of anything and just enjoyed being along for the ride. As I’ve gotten older I’ve come to relish the fact that my devotion is to Christ and my family and that my fandom is merely a hobby.
Still, it was 10 years ago that I took Sandy to her first convention of sorts. It was the first Star Wars Celebration, held in Denver. It was there, standing in line in the rain and the mud to see some of the actors from the upcoming “Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace” movie that I asked her to be my bride.
Since then we have attended many sci-fi conventions, primarily Starfest, which is held each April in Denver. Oddly enough, outside of wearing T-shirts I have never dressed in costumes for these events.
Seven years ago my fandom took a step back in time. I rediscovered my interest in “The Lone Ranger” and took over publication of a quarterly Lone Ranger newsletter. That led to the formation of the Lone Ranger Fan Club.
Because of my position as founder and owner of the club, I am widely considered to be the masked man’s biggest fan. I can tell you from experience that I am not. I’m just the most visible. That became evident last year when we held the 75th anniversary celebration of the Lone Ranger. We were hosted by the Memphis Film Festival. A friend felt the fan club president should look the part, so he footed the bill for me to get a top-notch costume.
That costume nearly got me into trouble last weekend at the Texas State Railroad. We had gone to attend the Lone Ranger themed event. On the ride, bandits rob the train and the Lone Ranger and Tonto ride to the rescue. There were many related activities back at the train depot and, after being encouraged to do so by some on staff, I ducked into the men’s room and changed into my costume.
I was about to emerge when the station manager caught wind of what I was doing and came in to stop me. He said he could not have two Lone Rangers running around. It would ruin the illusion for the guests and it might also put his license to use the character in jeopardy.
So I changed back into my street clothes and put the costume back into the trunk of the car. My ego took a hit, but part of me was glad to just relax and enjoy the show.
One of the things I have learned is that there is a lot of fun in dressing up at these festivals and conventions and posing for pictures. That escape from reality is fun and it brings enjoyment to others.
It reminds me a lot of another job I once held. It involved wearing a red suit and a white beard and sitting for hours in a mall while children rattled off what they wanted for Christmas.
In about a week it will seem like Christmas to me when the new “Star Trek” movie opens. I can’t wait. I really want to dress up for it, but I no longer have my Captain Kirk shirt and I’m fresh out of pointy ears.
Maybe I’ll just take Sandy to see it and ask her as we stand in line for tickets if she feels crazy enough to live long and prosper with me for the next 10 or so years. After all, it is the logical thing to do.