I was startled by my wife’s phone alarm, not because I’d never heard it before, but because it was mid-afternoon on a Saturday.
“Your phone alarm went off,” I said, stating the obvious.
Rushing back into the house from the garage, where we were attempting a start on cleaning up and cleaning out winter’s messiness, Lori said, “It’s the SpaceX launch; I don’t want to miss it.”
“That’s news to me,” I said, showing my ignorance. But I figured, if it would get me out the garage, I was all for watching it. So, I followed Lori inside.
“This flight will mark the first time astronauts have launched into orbit from American soil in nearly a decade,” I heard the TV commentator say.
I tried to remember that event back in 2011. “It must not have been important to me,” I thought. As I continued listening, I learned that instead of being a government-owned spaceship, the Crew Dragon is owned by SpaceX. And it’s controlled by SpaceX engineers in Southern California, not by NASA controllers and contractors in Houston.
The change is a significant step toward the commercialization of spaceflight, which is, one of the reporters said, a strategic objective of NASA. It’s supposed to bring about lower costs and more innovation in the space transportation industry.
That was all very interesting, but that date, 2011, was what stuck in my mind. It seemed like only a breath ago. “But oh, how different the day was then, compared to where we are now,” I mused. Suddenly, it seemed like another lifetime.
Captured by the TV coverage, I sat there, sipping on my afternoon cup of tea, enamored by the image of that rocketship streaming to orbit into space. That spacecraft was nothing short of spectacular, powering higher and higher, a public display of ingenuity, cooperation, and determination to reach for a goal: the sky itself. And even beyond.
What a stark contrast it is to life on Planet Earth, June 2020. It’s a world that is politically divided, socially isolated, and morally adrift.
Here, our own ground zero casts an image, not the one of a silver, spaceship shimmering in friendly, blue skies but a police officer’s knee on the neck of George Floyd. Here, at a venue close to home, rioters are destroying the work and dreams of people, violently tearing down what took others years to build.
I don’t know where I was nine years ago at the last launch, but I will always remember where I was for this one, if only for the contrast it highlights to life where we are. The evening news would report on the SpaceX launch, but only after almost twenty minutes of report after report, showing the destructive acts of rioters. But, after all, it is the news.
For me, I want to grab that image of the rocket, hold on, and go with it.
“It’s been 18 years working toward this goal, so it’s hard to believe that it’s happening,” said Elon Musk, the billionaire founder of SpaceX.
Dreamers reach for the sky, despite the destructive forces that threaten to hold them back. Surrounded by this painful world, they yet look for something better, something beyond the nastiness that threatens to encumber them in its muck and mire. Retreating from the world is not the answer, but working for something greater, even magnificent, propels them upward and onward. The more lofty the dream, the more inclusive it becomes, which means, the menacing giants of racism, disease, and destruction must be confronted, as unpleasant and fearful as the task is.
Just as suddenly as Lori’s phone alarm had jarred me a few moments ago, I’m brought back once again, this time by her voice.
“Hey, David! Aren’t you coming back to the garage to clean up this mess?”