FOR MY DAUGHTER’S 30TH BIRTHDAY, we boarded a space time machine. That’s the way it seemed to me, anyway. Our family quartet — one Renaissance nerd, two space nerds, and one nerd herder — convened last weekend in Houston to explore Johnson Space Center, Megan’s birthday wish.
The pull/push of past/future was never more present than in the two Mission Controls we visited. To reach each one we rode separate trams through the NASA campus, a time-trapped paradox in itself. The building exteriors have hardly changed from their early 1960s origins, right down to the vintage, gearless Schwinn bicycles that were donated to the facility when it was established and that now are lovingly maintained and ridden freely around the campus. It’s not until you’re deep inside one of those buildings that the retro furniture and fixtures recede and NASA’s innovative core reveals itself.
First stop: the future. A few walls away from the International Space Station’s 24/7/365 Mission Control sits the future Mission Control for NASA’s Artemis program, which will land the first woman and next man on the moon by mid-decade and then take the next giant leap for mankind, sending astronauts to Mars. Significant among the many computer screens are the large projections at the front of the room, heart-felt reminders of the price of space exploration: the single Apollo and two Shuttle crews who lost their lives in tragic accidents. Later, we walked the massive building where the Artemis spacecraft are being built and tested; it is a visual representation of the complexity of the undertaking.
Our second tram ride deposited us in the past: the fully reconstructed Mission Control that managed the Apollo 11 mission, 50 years ago, which fulfilled President Kennedy’s dream of an American man walking on the moon. The tiny black-and-white screens, the ashtrays, the three-ringed binders, even the coat rack on the side wall — all of it cast us back in time and made me wonder, “How the hell did we ever pull that off?” We took it all in from the visitor/VIP gallery glassed off from the working control room. Turns out, according to our jovial tour guide, my birthday-girl daughter occupied the very seat that Queen Elizabeth sat in when she visited. “The Queen probably farted in that chair,” I whispered to Megan.
Both Mission Control visits were humbling experiences for me. Like any good space explorers, though, we pushed forward, meeting an astronaut, visiting exhibits, and dropping some coin on space swag. Astronaut Clay Anderson was funny and self-deprecating, reminding me of the other astronauts I’ve met or read about. He graciously took a selfie with our family. The day ended with a look inside the Space Shuttle replica Independence, which sat atop its transport carrier, then a hearty dinner at a quaint Mediterranean restaurant nearby.
Time trickles on. I’m so proud of my children as they pilot their way smartly on this planet. And for me, it’s fun to wonder how life might have been different if my own astronaut fantasies had been realized.
Our encounter with The Ordinary Spaceman, Clay Anderson. Who was more surprised?