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Columbia
I don't know why exactly, but September 11 didn't affect me very much. On the other hand, what happened on Saturday morning makes me very sad.
September 11. Sure, there was the whole apocalyptic spectacle of the thing -- maybe that's one reason I escaped affect -- it was just too fantastic, too science fiction, too brave-new-world. When something that crazy happens, you stare in fascination as much as you gawk in horror.
But maybe it's because the whole thing was wrapped up in so much worry over the U.S. reaction -- maybe I'm trying to separate myself from this event that has brought out so many bad aspects of America -- the "patriotism" -- the sudden emmergence of the elements of a police state -- the 1984-ish spectre of continuous warfare against an abstract enemy -- the scapegoating ("bomb iraq!") -- propagandizing in friendly nations -- and, perhaps most of all, the whining of everyone over how many million dollars they'll be "compensated". No, it's not something I want to be part of. It's sad that a few thousand people died, but the whole thing -- really -- just seems so childish.
But the loss on Saturday morning of the Space Shuttle Columbia is something else entirely. I really feel it deeply, as a heartfelt sadness. These astronauts were on their way home, joking about the "tire pressure" and probably looking forward to gravity again. Probably looking forward to turkey sandwiches and a stroll on good old terra firma, in the sun. The Shuttle program is an example of people trying to accomplish something beyond the trivialities of mundane existence.
It also saddens me that people don't seem to care. In the movie Apollo 13 the point is made that by that point moonwalks were "commonplace," and, like today's space shuttle missions, had become a meer footnote on the news. Even the International Space Station seems to have fallen out of favor. The public doesn't see any use in it, and even Sci Fi fans see it as boring, while they ask "Why not Mars?" It's even been said that ISS is being built just as an excuse to give the Shuttle program something to do. Even if that's true, I think we should do it. It at least gives the impression that humanity is doing something.
I remember vividly the Challenger explosion. I was six years old, I lived in Costa Mesa, and I was in kindergarten. That billowing white smoke trail, the booster rockets flying off, the fireball -- it's indelibly etched into my mind's eye. I can probably dig up crayon drawings of it. And I was a little confused at the time because the teacher on board very much resembled one of my kindergarten teachers.
What happens now is unclear. Maybe Bush and Congress will see this as an opportunity to drasticly cut the breadth, depth, extent, and scope of the space program, trim NASA's wings. Maybe the Shuttles will be grounded for a very long time. Maybe ISS will be abandoned. But the opposite seems just as possible: Maybe this will reawaken interest in the Space Program. Maybe Bush will invoke "patriotism" to reinvigorate the space program -- maybe we'll have a profound call for a single-stage-to-orbit space plane before the decade is out! Not likely, but we can be hopeful.
Hope is really the operative word. I would so much like to see the energies of the American transformed, to see the ambient anxiety so dense upon the American landscape reformed into a bright hope and pride for a constructive goal. We've spent more than half a year ruminating on just how, when, and why to attack Iraq. Just think: instead we could direct those energies to projects like education, universities, museums, libraries, national parks, affordable housing, better hospitals, and so on. Give the people something to hope for -- to build -- rather than something to fear.
September 11. Sure, there was the whole apocalyptic spectacle of the thing -- maybe that's one reason I escaped affect -- it was just too fantastic, too science fiction, too brave-new-world. When something that crazy happens, you stare in fascination as much as you gawk in horror.
But maybe it's because the whole thing was wrapped up in so much worry over the U.S. reaction -- maybe I'm trying to separate myself from this event that has brought out so many bad aspects of America -- the "patriotism" -- the sudden emmergence of the elements of a police state -- the 1984-ish spectre of continuous warfare against an abstract enemy -- the scapegoating ("bomb iraq!") -- propagandizing in friendly nations -- and, perhaps most of all, the whining of everyone over how many million dollars they'll be "compensated". No, it's not something I want to be part of. It's sad that a few thousand people died, but the whole thing -- really -- just seems so childish.
But the loss on Saturday morning of the Space Shuttle Columbia is something else entirely. I really feel it deeply, as a heartfelt sadness. These astronauts were on their way home, joking about the "tire pressure" and probably looking forward to gravity again. Probably looking forward to turkey sandwiches and a stroll on good old terra firma, in the sun. The Shuttle program is an example of people trying to accomplish something beyond the trivialities of mundane existence.
It also saddens me that people don't seem to care. In the movie Apollo 13 the point is made that by that point moonwalks were "commonplace," and, like today's space shuttle missions, had become a meer footnote on the news. Even the International Space Station seems to have fallen out of favor. The public doesn't see any use in it, and even Sci Fi fans see it as boring, while they ask "Why not Mars?" It's even been said that ISS is being built just as an excuse to give the Shuttle program something to do. Even if that's true, I think we should do it. It at least gives the impression that humanity is doing something.
I remember vividly the Challenger explosion. I was six years old, I lived in Costa Mesa, and I was in kindergarten. That billowing white smoke trail, the booster rockets flying off, the fireball -- it's indelibly etched into my mind's eye. I can probably dig up crayon drawings of it. And I was a little confused at the time because the teacher on board very much resembled one of my kindergarten teachers.
What happens now is unclear. Maybe Bush and Congress will see this as an opportunity to drasticly cut the breadth, depth, extent, and scope of the space program, trim NASA's wings. Maybe the Shuttles will be grounded for a very long time. Maybe ISS will be abandoned. But the opposite seems just as possible: Maybe this will reawaken interest in the Space Program. Maybe Bush will invoke "patriotism" to reinvigorate the space program -- maybe we'll have a profound call for a single-stage-to-orbit space plane before the decade is out! Not likely, but we can be hopeful.
Hope is really the operative word. I would so much like to see the energies of the American transformed, to see the ambient anxiety so dense upon the American landscape reformed into a bright hope and pride for a constructive goal. We've spent more than half a year ruminating on just how, when, and why to attack Iraq. Just think: instead we could direct those energies to projects like education, universities, museums, libraries, national parks, affordable housing, better hospitals, and so on. Give the people something to hope for -- to build -- rather than something to fear.
no subject
Either way I couldn't move for 10 minutes afterwards and I felt dysfunctional all day. I think particularly because I had been so excited about the first Israeli in space. I questioned whether Israelis are meant to die in every possible way, or if this was just one of those days.
I definitely felt choked up, even moreso when I managed to fix the rabbit ears to pick up a newscast. September 11th was a devestating loss for Americans. Not a loss of spirit. It was an event that brought people together around the country and world. Support grew for all types of programs and events. There were massive efforts to reconstruct and move on with daily life.
The Apollo disaster was a loss of hope. Spirits are crushed. I received an email from the Calpoly Space Systems club - the meeting was cancelled for the day.
9/11 we had a goofball president, new to his role and feeling out theh territory. The US had no real direction but the event soon changed that. With the Apollo the US is already full steam ahead into a war. Feelings are a bit touchier in this situation, let alone that our "enemies" had a good laugh about it all.