Cue theme
music: "Fanfare for the Common Man"
I work for
NASA.
I get such
a rush saying that. Even more than telling people about my aerospace
engineering degree (Why yes, I *am* a rocket scientist), I love to watch
people's awe when I tell them, "I work for NASA." See, I can't even
stop writing it.
Take the
most blasé person you know. The person who focuses completely on logical,
concrete goals. The person who complains about wasting government resources on
"silly" projects. Take that person and tell them, "I work for
NASA." Even they can't help but be impressed, at least a little. Because
NASA is a brain trust. It's the future. It's the place where the line between
science fiction and reality is pushed back and blurred a little more every day.
As a
country we've let NASA fade into the background. Work no longer halts to watch
each shuttle launch. We no longer hang breathlessly on every new milestone in
our space adventure. Partly that's because we're knocking those milestones down
like dominoes: click-click-click-click. But it's also partly due to fading
interest; the shiny newness of the space effort has worn off and it no longer
gets more than a five second mention on the news on its best day (unless it's
budget woes or some new malfunction).
Even so,
NASA's aura shines still today. People haven't quite forgotten the excitement
of the space race, the moon landings, and the first shuttle launches. No matter
how deeply it's been buried under economy woes, politician scandals, and
national tragedies, pride and near-superstitious awe of our National
Aeronautics and Space Administration can be uncovered with a few simple words.
"I work for NASA."
How did the
public come to forget about NASA? For some, it was a childhood dream to be
shelved upon entrance into the "real world". For others it remains in
the same categories as Flash Gordon and Star Trek. The truth is that we're
doing our work so well that the public forgets that it's brand-new, dangerous
territory we're treading every day. Challenger disintegrated just after launch
16 years ago and we haven't lost an astronaut since, not because the perils
disappeared but because we dare not.
-----Original Message-----
From: HALE, N. W., JR (WAYNE) (JSC-DA8) (NASA)
Sent: Monday, January 28, 2002 10:08 AM
Subject: Remembrance
Today marks the 16th anniversary of the
Challenger accident. I didn't see it in the paper or on a web page but you can
be sure that my internal calendar reminded me.
I don't bring this up to you for trivial
reasons. I don't remind you of this anniversary for maudlin reasons or to
memorialize our friends and co-workers who perished, although this last reason
is worthwhile in itself. I don't want to make you melancoly or impede the
advance of progress in your work today. I remind you of this anniversary
because it was a significant event that has meaning and its remembrance
transmits values that we need to keep in our thoughts and work. What is it that
we can remember today, 16 years later, that is of value to us in human space
flight? We should, at least for a few minutes, once a year to ponder this
question.
After the Apollo 1 fire -- which happened 35
years ago yesterday -- Wehner Von Braun said "This should remind us all
that we are not in the business of making shoes." Von Braun was not
putting down cobblers. He was reminding us that the business of putting people
into space has inherent risk - a high level of risk. It is up to each of us
that work in the field of space exploration to be perpetually and
extraordinarily vigilant. If you can't or won't maintain that level of focus
and attention, you should find another field of work.
There is a quotation that is frequently seen on
posters around JSC. "Aviation in itself is not inherently dangerous. But
to an even greater degree than the sea, it is terribly unforgiving of any
carelessness, incapacity or neglect." This is even more true for space
flight. Our margins are small, sometimes razor thin, our objectives are
difficult; we deal with great energies and hard stops. After 41 years of
sending people into space, this has not changed. This is still much that we do
not know about space flight.
One fact is certain. We cannot afford to fail
again. Not from the human standpoint. Lives are on the line every day. Not from
the agency standpoint. NASA is not immortal and another failure could easily
spell the end of this magnificent experiement. But we cannot afford to fail
again for mankind's sake. If we are stopped now, it will be two or more generations
before humanity tries to go into space again. And then it would probably not be
America that does it.
So, today, sometime, stop and think. What am I
doing? Could I do better -- not more hours, not more busy work -- but could I
do better to make sure that we are going forward with the best planning, with
the least risk, with the most margin. Where do I need to pay more attention?
Where could I better spend my efforts and time to ensure success?
There is a lot riding on what you are doing
today. All the rest of us are doing our part. We are counting on you to do
yours.
And if you haven't done it lately, a walk in
the memorial grove will help you focus on what is really important at our job.
I'll be there later today. About 10:43. Pardon if I don't talk to you. I'll be
thinking about what I can do better.
-----End Original Message-----
Wayne Hale is the Flight Director Office deputy
for Shuttle.
We work for
NASA. We do what no one else can do. We do what no one else has done. There's
pride and delight and a little trepidation in that. When you walk in no one
else's footsteps that chance of a misstep is always greater, but you'll always
know which ones are yours.
The
author works in a very mundane support role at NASA's Johnson Space Center for
United Space Alliance, a NASA prime contractor. Once trained, she will be
teaching the astronauts how to operate and troubleshoot mechanisms and robotics
that are onboard the International Space Station.