Apollo 11 SPLASHDOWN! Watering the seeds of inspiration

"Stable 2" was the proper description for the Apollo 11 CM shortly after it jettisoned its parachutes and was left bobbing in the blue pacific. It was a moment when the vast majority of Americans were left satisfied at their nation's accomplishment and ambled back into their everyday lives with Apollo being a pleasant, but low priority memory. A sliver of the population carried disgust from the event as they felt all along that it "wasn't worth it." Some of us, although unable to fully evaluate it at the moment, had just had the seeds of inspiration that would alter our lives watered by the splash of that blue water.

The seeds of my spaceflight inspiration were actually planted long before Apollo 11. In fact, the circumstances that led me in the spaceflight direction began even before early Gemini missions- these circumstanced, however, began of a troubling note. I was in the second grade in the fall of 1964 when my parents were called in to meet with my teacher and were given some stunning news... "Wes can't read." My stunned parents were informed by my teacher that I was unable to read aloud, those captivating adventures of Dick and Jane and their fascinating dog Spot. My folks were told that they had to take me downtown to the Board of Education building to meet with a "Reading Specialist." In 1964, such a visit to such a person was a real embarrassment- something to be done quietly and in the shadows- because it meant your kid was defective.

Thus my parents meekly took their defective son downtown. We entered the big, dark, building with its echoing hallways and met the lady who was "The Specialist." She was very nice and led us to a doorway that opened to a big room. She directed me to go inside and wait while she had a few words with my parents. The room had living room styled furniture and was filled... FILLED... with books. The books were seemingly tossed around everyplace and were of all sorts of subjects. There was also one, almost unnoticeable feature in that room- a very large mirror on one wall. I walked around for about 90 seconds and then found a book on the Boeing 707. I sat down with it and started reading. Behind the mirror was the amazingly savvy "specialist" and my worried parents- watching my every move. "See..." she told my folks, "he can read- he's just bored with Dick and Jane." She also informed them that the book I had was on the 6th grade level. My mom asked about my teacher's concern that I could not read aloud. In the following discussion my folks were informed of the difference between "Can't" and "Won't" (interestingly, I'm currently working on my 14th book for publication... and I still do not read aloud to the public... ever.) My folks were given marching orders to get me anything... ANYTHING... to read that I was interested in- comic books, Mad Magazine, science books, sports books... anything that I was interested in. Mom and especially dad were then spring loaded to respond to what sparked interest in me. Some of the material that my folks fed to me included spaceflight and I had shown interest in that subject. Later- along came Apollo 11 and my folks knew they'd hit the jackpot.

Several weeks after the splashdown, my dad stopped into a Gulf station for gas again. Once again, he came back from paying and he handed me something. This time it was far better than that infernal paper LEM kit, this was... a book. When I opened that book- titled "We Came In Peace" it was as if someone had thrown LH2 into the sparks of my new found spaceflight passion. Even looking at the publication today, it is likely one of the finest illustrated and composed presentations of the nuts and bolts of the effort to get to the moon that has ever been produced. I lived in that book to the point where my 6th grade teacher told me never to bring it to school again... today I own two copies.

Thanks to Project Apollo, and Apollo 11 specifically, my parents found the key to the one thing that would alter the path on which their son would travel for the rest of his life. Along that path other sparks of inspiration would show their effects, but the foundation would be firmly constructed in that summer of 1969. I'm sure there are others who say the same thing, and who have stories similar to mine. NASA, on the other hand, saw their decline begin at that same moment. Caught in the bluster of ill political winds, NASA had its single weakness exploited- NASA did not have tooting their own horn in their job description.

Spaceflight is as much about Inspiration as it is about Exploration. I was inspired by Apollo- inspired to the point where, in a social strata where the norm was that you grew up, maybe you graduated from High School, you went to work in the "shop," you got married and your kids did the same... I directed my life toward technology and toward a technical education. There's nothing wrong with workin' in the shop, or in industrial related jobs- hell, my dad was 37 years on the railroad and I was always proud of him. That said- Apollo showed me a different direction, and instilled an attitude in me that I could do anything, especially when people told me that I could not. Inspiration is the greatest benefit of human spaceflight. When people quack about the "cost" they need to be asked what value does changing a kid's life for the better have?

As the Apollo 11 CM bobbed in the pacific and its crew huddled behind the window of the MQF while Nixon stood outside pretending to be enthused yet all the while actually planning to cancel the entire Apollo program, I was busy creating. Using a common matchbox, some balsa wood odds and ends and a jar of Testor's silver paint, I was making my own little MQF. When it was finished I went out onto the patio and caught three medium sized ants. Naming them Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins I locked their little helpless butts into quarantine- just like the Apollo 11 astronauts... minus the aircraft carrier and Nixon... of course. It was a good way for a 12 year old to mimic what held my imagination at that moment. The next morning I opened my matchbox MQF and found all three ant-stronauts stone cold dead. "Gee..." I thought to myself, "I hope the real astronauts do better."

Apollo 11, July 20, 1969 a life altering event and a paper LEM

Oddly, I recall that my first thought upon waking up on the morning of July 20, 1969 was that I did not want to miss the lunar landing. We had a family gathering to attend that afternoon in the nearby town of Freeland, Michigan and I was concerned that the TV at the home where the gathering would take place would likely be occupied by with Tigers baseball like it always was at such summer family get-togethers. My folks assured me that I had nothing to worry about, but I was far from convinced. Of course mom and dad knew full well that none of the networks would be carrying anything but the Apollo 11 landing, their 12 year old son, however, could not fathom such reasoning- I continued to fret.

Our family gathering that day had nothing to do with Apollo 11. The fact is that my younger brother and my cousin both shared close birth dates on the July calendar and it was decided to have a big cookout at my cousin's house in Freeland to celebrate them together. The trip there was considerable by the standards of a 12 year old- all the way across town and out to farm country. I had no way of knowing that four years later my own family would move from Saginaw out to Freeland and I would eventually graduate from Freeland High School- on that July sunday in 1969, it was a respectable road trip to me.

On the way out of town, dad stopped for gas at a Gulf station. He pumped in a few dollars worth, went inside to pay and upon returning handed me a large piece of card-stock paper. It had black and gold shapes printed all over it in a series of odd patterns. For a second or two I studied the sheet, then I recognized the two triangular windows of the LEM in among the patterns! Dad told me that they were giving these away at Gulf and you had to pop the pieces out and then you could fold it into a LEM model! GREAT! He also warned me not to start until we got to the party, so I wouldn't lose any of the pieces. All the way to Freeland I studied the sheet of paper as I sat in the back seat of dad's 66' metal flake navy blue, Buick Special. I was sure that making that paper LEM was far beyond any skills and abilities I possessed... and I was right about that.

By the time we got to the party the TV was already locked onto CBS and Walter Cronkite and Wally Schirra were earning their pay. Unlike the launch, this time I sat on the floor in front of the TV, transfixed at everything that was happening. Here was the kid, well known as the one who rarely paid attention in the classroom, who was instantly bored by any reading assignment, who could not sit still long enough to focus on more than three arithmetic problems, who was always "out the window" rather than in the lesson, sitting there in full "learning mode." My parents and relatives were amazed. I watched each simulation of what was to come and soaked it in as the paper LEM model sat nearby waiting for someone... anyone... to start working on it.

Amid my new found focus on the technology of spaceflight, I became so engrossed in what was going on in the TV that I forgot to eat. The result was a nasty stomach pain, yet it was not enough to distract me from the mission broadcast. My mom eventually delivered a plate to me containing a hotdog and some beans... I don't recall eating it, but I'd sure I did... probably under threat that mom would turn off the TV if I didn't eat. Several folks, including my dad, an uncle and a few of my older cousins, came and sat with me- all of whom took a stab at assembling that accursed paper LEM... no one got very far.

As the Eagle went into PDI and began to arc toward the landing I was totally focused on that TV set. Odds are that there were people around me... lots of them... but I don't recall a single one. I do recall, however, every "GO" call relayed by Charlie Duke to the crew. I knew enough to recognize that "go" was good in the vernacular of spaceflight. The communications were peppered with static and break-ups and the series of computer alarms clearly did not seem right. Since the alarms did not seem to bother the crew, I wasn't worried either. I figured that NASA had planned and rehearsed every second of this operation- since that was what the newsmen on the TV had always told us that NASA did... of course I was wrong in that assumption... but hey, I was 12.

As the CBS simulation showed the LEM touching down, however, the air-to-ground voice did not match the simulation. Indeed the LEM was shown on the moon for quite a while before the video tape of the simulation was suddenly wound back to showing the LEM still in flight. I knew that was wrong, but reasoned that it was a CBS error and not a problem with the landing... I was wrong again... hey... I was 12... remember?

It has often been said by the engineers and crews that the landing of Apollo 11 was more significant than was the EVA. So it was for me- as I heard Charlie Duke say "...we copy ya' on the ground, ya' got a bunch of guys about to turn blue, we're breathin' again, thanks a lot." I knew that they had indeed landed on the moon. Around me my relatives clapped and cheered a bit, then went back to the party. My cousins who were near my age went back to running and playing. I simply sat there... thunderstruck... watching, listening, soaking it up like a sponge. I wanted to know more- for the first time in my whole life, I wanted to learn more- more about these vehicles, more about this program, more about that moon, more about space and how it all works. But- there was a problem... you see, no one who was not on that TV, no one who was at that family gathering with me, no one in my entire neighborhood... could teach it to me. In retrospect, at that moment in time, I already knew more about the space program than anyone else near me. If I was going to satisfy my new urge to learn more about the space program, I would have to teach myself.

The party broke up a few hours after the landing and I gathered up the parts of my paper LEM and we headed home. Just before we left they announced on the TV that the EVA would be moved up to around 10 pm that evening. It had originally been scheduled for the following morning, in fact President Nixon had already given all federal workers Monday off as a "Day of Participation" now they'd just have a nice day off. When we got home, my dad asked me to break out my little 50 power refractor telescope. We took it out into the backyard and set it up on the deck of our 4 foot deep above-ground pool, and pointed the lens toward the crescent moon.

When the EVA began, no one really knew what that grainy black and white image was of. In fact, it was upside down at first- but soon the folks at NASA flipped it over and before long we saw a boot followed by Neil Armstrong's shadow. I heard his words as he stepped onto the lunar surface and then I ran outside to look through the telescope... as if I was going to see something. While the EVA went on everyone gathered at our house... and we did have a sort of secondary family gathering going on, since most of my aunts, uncles and cousins lived within a block of my house... took turns running out to that stupid little telescope and looking up at the moon. Interestingly, four decades later I find that this same pointless exercise was going on all over the hemisphere at that same time.

I didn't make it through the entire EVA. I pretty much ran out of steam toward midnight and don't recall how I got to my bed. Odds are I fell asleep in the living room during Nixon's call or shortly there after... Nixon had that sort of influence on a space buff.

When I awoke, however, I would be a different kid than I was that morning- many others would as well. That damned paper LEM, however, never would get put together... 40 years later, it's probably still beyond my skills and abilities .