As a child, I developed a very rich imagination. I learnt to withdraw into a creative fantasy life as a way of avoiding difficult, boring and painful circumstances. I remember `feeling different’, an `outsider’ and never quite `fitting in.’ Not an uncommon experience as an adopted child. There are many advantages to having a rich fantasy life. I could escape from the tedium of compulsory singing during school and navigate an imaginary universe. From an early age, I aspired to be an Astronaut. I wanted to travel through space; the ultimate in `disassociating’ from the limits of an earth-based reality and explore beyond the boundaries of the known universe.
There were a few obstacles to my dreams of becoming an Astronaut. Reality was a really, really big one. While patiently biding my time on planet earth, I noticed there weren’t many vacancies for nerdy, insecure prepubescent children at NASA for Astronaut training. I consistently failed primary school maths and struggled to read maps. I was also prone to feeling car sick when travelling. I couldn’t think of anything worse. Struggling to remove my space helmet while having an `out of stomach experience’ and fumbling to find the barf bag. Not a great start for an aspiring space explorer.
Space travel is also very, very expensive. In the early seventies, a Saturn V rocket cost around one hundred million dollars. (or one trillion dollars adjusted in today’s currency) That’s a lot of pocket money. (not to mention the postage and handling costs!) Even if I could afford the postage, the sight of a rocket sitting in my backyard would attract the attention of my parents and neighbours. I could imagine my bemused father asking: `What’s that son?’ `It’s a Saturn V rocket, Dad…the type that launched Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin to their first moon landing.’ I imagined my Dad saying in reply, `Alright… don’t tell your mother…she’ll just worry about it.’
The countdown was magnificent…10…9…8…7…6…ignition sequence begins…5…4…3…2 …1…and blast off! The liquid oxygen and kerosene fuelled rocket engines roared into action as huge amounts of fire and smoke poured out of the nozzles. The cabin shook as the rocket slowly accelerated upwards into the clear blue sky. My back arched slightly as the vibrations from the rocket engines firing rattled through the whole structure. The pressure of gravity became stronger as the rocket sped upwards into the higher reaches of the atmosphere. `Looking good Mission control’, I thought to myself. I think my neighbours would have been miffed as their houses were incinerated during the launch. I never like old Mr Jones anyway. He had a flat earth view of reality that could be summed up as `wake up to yourself’, `get a haircut son and don’t march on our streets! ‘Some people’s stance on life is like gravity. Their attitudes exert a strong downward pressure to conform and keep lofty ideals firmly from soaring into the heavens.
My hopes of becoming an Astronaut fizzled like a wet fire cracker. I remember sharing my dreams with my grade four teacher. Her lack of enthusiasm was enough to sow seeds of doubt in my mind. Perhaps she thought to herself `not another one’ or knew that my lack of aptitude for maths would doom me to be grounded on planet earth forever. Reluctantly, I had to compromise my dream of space travel. It was not long after this time that my view of reality would begin to shift. A friend gave me a copy of a book. I discovered the phenomena of Unidentified Flying Objects. If intelligent life was out there cruising the galaxy… then… maybe… they would take me with them!
Foolish Times 