Rocket Man

Shortly before my 9th birthday (back in the Stone Age of 1969), my dad asked me what gift ideas I had for that year. Since I knew we would be taking our regular summer trip to Florida to see my grandparents, and I knew when we would be there, I told him that I wanted him to take me to Cape Kennedy and let me see the launch of Apollo 11, the first manned space flight to the moon. My birthday is July 15, and the launch was scheduled for the 16th. That morning my dad, my grandfather, my younger brother and myself got up early and headed to the Cape to watch Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin take off on what at the time was considered by some to be an improbable and impossible trip. I can still clearly remember the sight of that space ship in the distance, the roar we heard and the shaking we felt as it lifted off, and then the way the rocket looked against that blue Florida sky. As a then 9 year-old boy, I was absolutely amazed at the sight, as was my then 30 year-old father and my then 52 year-old grandfather (I guess I wasn't paying attention to the reaction of my then 6 year-old brother). No matter what your age, to witness men climbing into a rocket with the intent to land on the moon was something by which you could not help but be amazed, especially if you were there to watch them begin the journey. A few days later, Neil Armstrong summed the whole thing up, as he took his first steps on the surface of the moon, calling it "one small step" for him, and "one giant leap" for the rest of us.

I have always been captivated by the idea of going far, of going where maybe no one else is willing to go, or even thinks possible to get to in the first place. Just this week I have been reminded of my own desire to fly, to explore and to be part of something that is a giant leap for not only myself, but many others. Maybe I've thought about it because I've run up against some more of those people who think going far is neither possible or good. As I look back over my life to this point, I recognize the presence of these people throughout my journey, but it seems they have been especially present over the last decade, with some of them showing up at their cowardly worst over the last few years. In the past few months, some of them have shown up again, reminding me of the fact they have no intention of blasting off into the unknown, and telling me I have no business thinking that I can or should either. One of the most dangerous things these people can do is to vilify those who dream of flight, of exploration and discovery. How selfish/short-sighted/cowardly must a person be who chooses to cover their own fear of the unknown by attacking those who decide that their own fears and uncertainties, no matter how deep they may be, will not keep them from boarding the rocket and strapping in for the ride of their lives? I guess the answer to the question would be, "very."

But, these ground-based critics always seem to gain an audience, and the audience appears to give credibility to the criticism leveled at those who long to see where the rocket will take them. And, no matter who you are or how thick-skinned you might be, the criticism does take a toll over time, especially when those who remain on the ground are convinced that those who they criticize can't feel pain. Or, even worse than that, they could care less about the pain their criticism inflicts. This week has reminded me of how my desire to be on the rocket is perceived as a threat by some people, a threat that in their minds must be contained, if not stamped out completely. To help me better understand this, my wife just this morning compared those of us who desire the adventure of the rocket with the critics and their choice to live their lives on a carousel. Even if there are those who appear to be in the "lead" positions on the carousel, she pointed out to me that they're still doing nothing but going in a circle, "leading" others nowhere. Given the context in which I want to fly, it also appears that the carousel stops every seven days for the "leaders" and their "followers" to celebrate how great it is to be on the carousel.

The point made by my wife that impacted me the most was the fact that in spite of my desire to go where the rocket may take me, I seem to still fall back into needing those on the carousel to give me their approval for being on the rocket in the first place. How ridiculous is that, looking to people who do whatever they can to keep me off of the rocket, as well as to keep the rocket itself on the ground, to finally celebrate me wanting to fly? Ridiculous indeed, and I thank God that once again my amazing wife has pointed out to me what should have already been obvious to me, but I somehow missed.

What is your rocket? What does adventure mean to you? Have you even asked yourself those questions? Or, did you once ask those questions, but have the critics on the carousel caused you to finally abandon your dreams and betray yourself so that you haven't given any thought in a long time to where the rocket might take you? One thing I know about the critics on the carousel...they will be no kinder or affirming to you even if you decide to jump on the carousel with them than they were when they perceived you as a threat to the security of their carousel culture. The more I live, the more I realize that the only people worthy of even hearing your dreams are those who actually know what it means to dream, who refuse to remain on the ground with the rest of those who tell themselves lies every day just to cope with the fact they stopped dreaming a long time ago. The people with whom you know you can share your dreams and who know they can share theirs with you are the ones who know that the small steps taken that lead to giant leaps are not taken on the ground, and most definitely not on the carousel of self-deceit and falsehood.

Plus, I've always thought the music played on those carousels was really lame and creepy.