A memorable event

Twenty-two years ago today I walked into the Flandrau planetarium for a lab associated with a Planetary Science class I was taking. Heading in I noticed there were a number of large televisions set up around the planetarium, and some classes of young school children already arriving, but none of this really registered on me.

Some 90 minutes later I exited the lab classroom back out into the main area, and stepped into chaos - just moments before the Space Shuttle Challenger had exploded in large, bright, billowing clouds of smoke for several hundred local first-, second- and third-graders to see on all those thoughtfully provided TVs. I, and many of my classmates, were immediately pressed into service as supplemental emergency crowd control.

It's really the first "I remember where I was" moment in my life. I wasn't born yet when Kennedy was shot, and am too young to recall MLK. I only have vague recollections of the moon landings. I wasn't really into music, so John Lennon's shooting didn't have as much impact on me as it did many of my friends. I do recall the famous Roger Staubach to Drew Pearson pass which led to the phrase "Hail Mary" being introduced to football jargon, but that pales in comparison.

No, for me, Challenger was the first such event. I can recall the images, the noise, clearly, as if it had all happened yesterday, or maybe, at most, last week.

We, as a species, have an imperative to explore. Not everyone possesses this trait ... but enough of us do that there is never a shortage of people willing to take that next step into the great unknown, to see what lies over the next hill, up the next river, across the next ocean. With our geographical frontiers now being largely discovered, many of those looking for new vistas to explore are looking for them internally - how can one improve one's memory, or live longer, or sleep less.

Space remains out there, waiting for us. It's a hideous, harsh, dangerous place, unbelievably cold, filled with cosmic radiation, completely unforgiving. Any little mis-step will kill you. All things considered, our safety record in space exploration has been excellent.

Yet we no longer reach for space. We first landed a man on the moon nearly 40 years ago. The last time a man walked on our moon was over 35 years ago. Our technology has become immeasurably better, yet our goals have become immeasurably smaller.

Twenty-two years ago I had hopes and expectations I might live to see us walk on Mars, pull mineral resources from asteroids. I am older and wiser now, and have no such dreams.

We talk of landing a man on the moon again maybe 10 years from now ... wohoo! Better than nothing I guess, but all it would mean is we would have once again reached the point we were at in 1969. There is speculation of manned lunar bases, treks to Mars. Worthwhile goals in my opinion, and I desperately hope they occur ... but I am a cynic now, and will believe it when it happens, not before.

We can not allow ourselves to be limited to just this one rocky orb circling this one small star in a large, dangerous galaxy. We must find some way to spread out, first to our solar system, then beyond, even if such trips take thousands or millions of years. If we don't, our species will die out, either slowly (through resource depletion and, eventually, the sun's destruction) or quickly (by, say, passing near a super-nova ... who knows, that event could already have occured and we have but years to live) ... and we will disappear from the annals of the universe having left no mark or trace of our existence, other than some odd radio signals which some distant, alien intelligence might one day stumble upon and wonder about.

Kennedy said we needed to go to the moon not because it was easy, but because it was hard. For some reason, we seem to have lost our appetite for achieving the "hard" things, and strive for lower-hanging fruit instead. We need to change that. We need to go back, not just to the moon but beyond it, not just because it is hard, but because it is necessary.