“Feeling honest as a promise
Troubled times have come upon us
At the core of the cosmos
We are so much more than particles
Sonic to the subatomic
You are a whisper and a scream
You are, we are
All part of this everything”
--Eddie Vedder, Invincible
This past week, I turned 49; it’s an interesting age to be. While being reminded that the milestone of “50” is just a year off, you also realize that in all likelihood there is more life left behind than ahead. Such an epiphany is not necessarily morose; instead, it’s a cause for reflection, a time to realize how many waves of reality have washed over you. When spoken aloud, recollections of change within your own near-half-century can be staggering…especially when you’re a GenXer who grew up during the height of the space age!
My earliest memories all circled around spaceships, aliens, and the big bad universe! I vividly recall my brother and I playing with science fiction toys as young geeks in the 1970s. The plastic fantasy “handheld communication” devices were the stuff of Star Trek; I would certainly never be able to conduct two-way video calls from a “walkie talkie” in MY lifetime! Global wireless communications from devices that could fit in your pocket? Madness! I realize the irony of such thoughts as I type this draft on a laptop computer, a document I’ll likely review on my iPhone later…if I don’t get interrupted by a Zoom or Facetime call!
The amount of change was dramatically made clear to me a few weeks ago when my wife and I visited the Kennedy Space Center in Florida for the first time. Walking the grounds and being near the artifacts of the U.S. space program, you could see what Neal Peart described as “the bright stuff of dreams.” Around every corner was another icon of ingenuity and dedication to a purpose. Booster rockets that carried the first astronauts into orbit. Capsules that propelled humans around the globe, small enough to require the occupants to assume a near fetal position but sturdy enough to survive re-entry. These achievements pre-dated modern computers and manufacturing techniques. Truly, these explorers had ridden to the heavens on the sweat and toil of countless engineers, scientists, laborers, and leaders.
It’s tough for me to describe the feeling of seeing the space shuttle Atlantis up close; following a dramatic presentation in a central hall, a black curtain lifted to reveal the ship, hanging in air at an angle, as if coming in to land. Suddenly, I was no longer a middle-aged man; I was an 8-year old kid waking up early in 1981 to watch the world’s first re-usable spacecraft take to the stars. The sense of awe and wonder returned to me like a headrush; seeing this icon of the past century reappear was like adrenaline made of pure nostalgia.
Not long after, I wandered the “hall of heroes” for those who had died in during shuttle missions, and I was 12 years old again, feeling the pit of my stomach drop when the news of the Challenger explosions hit. Within this quiet place, alongside the portraits of the departed, are framed mementos from their personal lives. Religious paraphernalia. Running trophies. Community awards. Reminders of the holes that their deaths left in the lives of those who loved them and knew them best. Perhaps the most stirring moment was turning a corner to see to pieces of recovered wreckage from both fatal shuttle missions: The front window assembly of the Columbia and an American-flag covered tile assembly from the Challenger.
The Columbia’s front porthole hangs against a black backdrop, perpetually allowing visitors to stare into an abyss, a future willingly given up by a crew who knew the risks but chose to go forth. The Challenger’s flag is distressed and ragged, a tattered ideal that somehow seems ironic in the aftermath of the ship’s demise and the accelerating cynicism of the nearly 40 years that have passed since she, and her crew, died in front of us.
After drying my tears and catching a breath, I took a final glance up at the Atlantis, perpetually frozen in air, seemingly suspended in an older, more idyllic time. The common threads of all of the artifacts in this museum were so clear to see. These things…these accomplishments that shaped the very world we live in…were the result of vision and shared purposes. The seismic shifts in what could be possible came through sacrifice and hard work, dedication to a common cause that was bigger and more important than the minor differences between people. I have no doubt that there were arguments and disagreements, but in the end, there was consensus based on the realization that reaching for the stars was not something that could be accomplished without everyone being on board.
As a teacher, I get discouraged when I see students (and young people in general) becoming so addicted to their phones. The same spirit of innovation that literally “put a man on the moon,” is more often being used to distract or entertain us, gnawing away our attention spans and intellectual focus five wasted minutes at a time. In a recent poll of my class (using Apple’s own usage tracker), most students were doing 4-5 hours of screen time a day, with some going as high as 12-13. The most common activities were social networks; it seems our technology has changed course from exploring outer space to going deeper towards “inner space” and the online echo chambers which seem to further divide us every day.
As we watch our elected officials posture and angle for more air time and social media followers, I wonder what would happen if congress would take a field trip. Take everyone’s mobile devices and force them to walk the halls of the Kennedy Space Center. Most of the house and senate membership are old enough to remember what it was like to get up early to watch a shuttle launch; perhaps it would be helpful to remind them of what we accomplished when people looked beyond political parties and social media followers and instead sought ideals in the stars.
Pair each of these politicians up with a child who was born in the 11 years since the last shuttle mission concluded. Have these kids experience the idyllic American spirit that they have been deprived of alongside a person who needs to remember what it actually felt like to live in a country that promoted cooperation and ideals. As a middle-aged man who teaches 18-22-year olds, I can guarantee that experiencing your own past through the perceptions of someone less than half your age will bring it back to life in front of you. It is time to remember before we completely forget.
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