Atlantis lifted off this morning. As usual, I find these launches to be beautiful, tense, uplifting, nerve-wracking, and glorious. My wife Kim, visiting friends in Reno, calls me seven minutes before launch, and we chat, and she says, "Aren't you watching the shuttle?" I tell her I'm heading upstairs to watch the NASA TV feed on the pc, and I'll call her after liftoff. I like the NASA feed: no commentary, really, just visuals and some control room and astronaut chatter. I've got my Grado Labs headphones on, and, like I say, I'm happy but tense, and the countdown is on the minus 10 seconds thing, and I am completely focused on the little tiny mediaplayer window on the monitor.
I'm conscious of the tightening of the cords in my neck as I kinda strain toward the screen. Atlantis erupts skyward, and I continue to stare transfixed at the visuals, the sound of the engines screaming through the headphones, and I find myself whispering, "Go, yeah man, go!" It's fucking great.
During these launch episodes, the debate about the relevance of the shuttle and the ISS (International Space Station) melts into the ether, because we're actually doing it, we're blasting off and throwing people and equipment into space, a presage to "getting all our eggs out of one basket" to paraphrase Heinlein. You know, we're still just fumbling around in the infancy of space travel; we'll get there in a "smart" way at some point in the future, I have no doubt.
I make a vow to arrange a trip to Florida to see another launch in person. There is no substitute.
Back when I was around nine years old, some of the first books I ever checked out of the library were the so called "juveniles" written by Robert A. Heinlein. I ate them up, and they sparked a voracious reading habit which has not subsided.
