AMWW#29: TO BOLDLY GO
AbeMunder
by Abe Munder, the Wheeled Wonder
(AbeM...@aol.com)
Now is not a time for sadness. Mourning, yes, but not sadness, not by a long
shot.
The one thing we know for certain in this life is that it is finite. When you
think about it, then, it's kind of pointless to focus on death, which is
inevitable, when you could be celebrating an extraordinary life that precedes
it.
Those seven people on Columbia celebrated and stretched life.
Doctors, Ph.D.'s, scientists, engineers, professionals, immigrants, women,
minorities. These were not people who sat on their hands, definitely not the
type to accept pity.
Columbia was the second mission for the strong-willed Kalpana Chawla, who
bucked all resistance by becoming an engineer and then pursuing her ambition in
the U.S.: in her home state of Haryana, for every 1,000 boys under the age of
six there are only 820 girls, the results of sex-selection in a region where
boys are still valued higher than girls.
"Anything she wanted to do, she did," said Marjorie Brown of Oro Valley,
Arizona, mother of Columbia mission specialist Laurel Clark, a surgeon. "I
would say her life was packed full."
At the various memorial services taking place around the world, the tears shed
are not for seven astronauts, but for us, for it is our loss, not theirs: they
reached for the golden chalice, and I'm not sure they would change a thing.
No, a life that is full and accomplished is not a cause for sadness, but for
celebration. If someone meets their end doing something they love, well, what
better way to go? If they go while pushing the boundaries, while exploring and
contributing to the betterment of humankind, well, even better! We should all
be so fortunate.
Let's instead be sad for the kid hit by a stray bullet on the west side of
Chicago, who doesn't warrant mention on the news because he is poor and black.
Let's be sad for the meaningless loss caused by drunk drivers last night, and
for the runaway hatred that has turned the Holy Land into a meatgrinder. These
are the real tragedies, for the waste of innocent life and potential, stemming
from the worst in our nature.
What happened yesterday over Texas was entirely different: for the Columbia
crew, let's mourn instead. These were life-loving individuals, who were out
there pushing it, and realizing our aspirations. I wish I was as brave as
them, to train for years in order to sit atop a tower of fuel and a million
moving parts, to hurtle into the cold vastness of space.
Reading about yesterday's events, something struck me:
on January 27, 1967, a launch accident claimed the lives of Apollo 1 astronauts
Gus Grissom, Edward White and Roger Chaffee;
on January 28, 1986, another launch accident claimed the Challenger crew of
Dick Scobee, Michael Smith, Judith Resnick, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka,
Gregory Jarvis and Christa McAuliffe; and
on February 1, 2003, we witnessed the loss of Columbia astronauts Rick Husband,
William McCool, Michael Anderson, Ilan Ramon, David Brown, Chawla and Clark.
The darkest days of American spaceflight occurred within one week of the
calendar. This is not to say that you should remain grounded around the end of
January, but to draw a historical parallel, one that points to a boldness and
spirit that stretches like a thread across 36 years.
Of course, the media have to squeeze their stories out of this, including the
inane question we knew was coming: is manned space exploration worthwhile?
This sends me fumbling for my cattle prod. What do you think? What do you
suppose those people were doing up there? (They even successfully completed
their mission tasks before the accident.) What do you think they would wish
for the future of space exploration because of yesterday? Find the problems,
improve, and get back out there, that's what!
One hundred years ago, onlookers thought the Wright brothers were crazy; it's
true that the way to never crash is to not fly at all, and let's be thankful
Orville and Wilbur rejected that perspective. Think of all the pilots and
pioneers who died over the decades, getting aviation on its feet, right through
to yesterday. No, there's no going back into the cave once you've strapped on
the wings.
War lurks around the corner, and that is the time to be sad. This? I can't
think of any better tribute than to raise a glass and then hit the ground
running, determined to emulate those 16 people and live our lives better.
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