Sitting the office the other day, I got to watch what we're told is the final blast-off of America's space program: the last launch of the space shuttle.
If it was the last, I'm glad I got to watch. After all, I can remember as child how big of a deal it was to watch the blast-offs of the Mercury program. While I don't know that I remember Alan Shepard's actual lift-off to be the first American in space (1961), I do remember watching John Glenn as he lifted off to become the first American to orbit the earth, in 1962.
I think I was in first grade, or maybe kindergarten. But I do remember the teacher having us all sit around the TV to watch not only the lift-off, but the re-entry into earth's atmosphere.
The re-entry was the really exciting part for us back then. The capsule floating down to the waters off the coast of Florida ... the helicopters leaving the air craft carrier to go prepare for the splashdown ... the capsule hitting the water, and divers almost immediately being there to attach cables and pull the astronaut out ... the site of the astronaut being pulled up into the helicopter and flown back to the air craft carrier ... and finally the arrival on the air craft carrier, and all the hoopla of welcoming the hero back to earth.
RABBIT TRAIL: My friends and I used to pretend to be astronauts. We'd go to Ray O's basement and he and his sister and I would turn chairs on their back and crawl into some tight space and pretend; taking turns being the astronaut and the other two as mission control. Then afterward, we all smoked the obligatory congratulatory cigarette. We'd roll up little pieces of paper about the size of cigarettes and pass them around, acting like we were smoking. Remember when that's what they used to do? A wonder that none of us - to my knowledge - ever actually started smoking.
This was something that the Russians (our dreaded enemy back in those days of the Cold War and the height of the Red Scare) had achieved before the US, having taken advantage of the "freed" - or captured - German scientists from Hitler's rocket program before the U.S. thought to do so.
We often forget it was "rescued" German scientists who were the brains behind America's early space program, too. Amazing how close Hitler was to something even more frightening.
But it was a matter of pride. The Russians were ahead, our country was threatened, and our president threw down the gauntlet, stating that before the end of the decade we'd blow the Russians out of orbit and put an American on the moon.
This was one of the greatest examples of what made America great. Once we, as a nation, committed to something, we got it done - spectacularly. This was American know-how, American will, American excellence. You had to be growing up in the 1960s - a decade of such turmoil - to understand the source of pride in the space program that transcended all the other issues that were tearing America apart.
And my parents did keep me up, in 1969, to watch Apollo 11 land on the moon and then, shortly thereafter, to watch Neil Armstrong make that first step, fulfilling President Kennedy's challenge to put a man on the moon before the end of the decade.
Over the years, of course, we began to take the space program for granted. Lift-offs took place with hardly anyone noticing; certainly regular television programming wasn't stopped, and schools no longer halted class for kids and teachers to gather 'round the TV sets to watch lift-offs and splash-downs (especially after splash-downs were replaced by routine-looking landings).
I don't know what to think about the current state of America's space program. Maybe it has run its course. Maybe it is now just a matter of ego, like Bret Favre hanging on too long just because he could or a band like Three Dog Night that once packed stadiums and could charge whatever people would pay now appearing for $5 a ticket to appear inside a casino (not even in a concert hall!) because, well, because that's what they could still get.
If this is the passing of the space program, I wonder what will take its place.
Because we need to excel. That's why people came to America - for the chance to prove themselves, to be the best they could be or at least lay the foundation for their children to be the best they could be.
In 1969, we assumed that it was one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind - but there was nothing wrong with America taking that step and leading in that leap.
There is nothing wrong with being the best. Of course, we can't all be the best (by the very nature of the definition of 'the best'), but we should not be embarrassed at trying to be the best we can be.
We used to call it the Protestant Work Ethic, or the Puritan Work Ethic. The idea was that man didn't work for his own glory, but for the glory of God. We were driven to be the best because of the quaint notion that it somehow honored God, and God was pleased with our effort.
That led to all kinds of problems, of course, because it didn't take long for the whole idea to become perverted.
But the core value was excellence for its own sake. Not excellence for money or power or glory, but for the sake of being excellent.
That's what the space program exemplified.
Where do we look for that kind of excellence now?
I'm sure it's out there. But right now, I can't think of anything because our country seems to caught up in being embarrassed at being a leader, and our leaders seem to feel we need to be 'citizens of the world' rather than Americans.
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