Flights of fancy
I’d like to rewind the movie (my movie), back to a time before “walking on the moon”. I attended elementary school in a room filled not by numbers but by grade levels. Five of them. We had one teacher, so a certain level of self-motivation was expected. Of course, small boys can’t focus on arithmetic and phonics for long stretches, so I flew a rocket ship.
A trusted, yellow HB pencil, actually. With what remained of the eraser on one end, and a renewable point on the other. Sure, it served to annotate my academic life, but it also resembled those newfangled rocket ships that were replacing guided missiles, now that the wars had ended.
My flights were limited to the time periods when the teacher was eclipsed by other student heads, and the reach of my arm. Up, down, don’t break the point. In my mind, my rocket could take off and land without damage or parachutes.
Today, by chance, I tuned into a web broadcast of a rocket launch. From Florida, just like in the beginning. The difference is that once the desired altitude was achieved, the rocket returned. Gently. Landing on its tale fins. Just like mine! A fine feat of engineering, setting the “stage” for reusable engines in the future. Just like mine!
I know, there were legions of rocketeers back when the HB fleet was deployed. All across the continent, although I can’t claim to direct witness. But I’m glad that my idea carried the day, and that SpaceX managed to land their version without mishap.
