As I take all of this historical information in, I can’t help but think about the recent threats to my life. Amelia Earhart had received threats, similar to the threats I have received.
They are similar threats, in that both of us are accused of knowing a secret about someone or something. Both Amelia Earhart and I have the similarity of also being baffled; baffled at what secret we might know that deserves a death threat.
I find myself pleasantly puzzled about the similarities between Amelia Earhart and myself. The thing is, famous people receive death threats all the time, from all kinds of kooks, I tell myself. Surely, the only thing that would connect me with Amelia Earhart is that we both received death threats.
Both of us receiving threats because of what we know can only be a coincidence. I mean, it has been seventy years since Amelia Earhart disappeared, there can’t be any connection. Yet, for some reason, I feel disturbed at hearing and seeing this historical account of Amelia Earhart, and what it has revealed.
“What’s wrong?” Kelly finds me totally absorbed. Her voice breaks me free from the captivity of my thoughts.
“How is it going?”
“I’m doing great, but you’re looking kind of intense. Is everything okay?” she wonders with raised eyebrows, her sweet face thoughtfully awaiting my response.
“I’ve just been looking at this Amelia Earhart exhibit, and found some extraordinary information on her disappearance. I guess I got totally absorbed in it. Just in deep thought, that’s all.” I try to sell her on the idea that nothing is amiss, but she continues with her squinted eye look of curious disbelief.
We both begin to walk again and gaze about at the many sights and sounds, all around us. All of a sudden, a loud roaring blasting noise startles us. We see a miniature Space Shuttle blasting off towards the top of the building.
The little Space Shuttle looks as if it is attached to a cable that stretches clear to the ceiling. Complete with flames that come from rockets on each side of the shuttle, it climbs to an impressive 100 feet or so above us and stops.
The flames from the rockets extinguish, then a man in a silver sparkly suit pops out of a door of the Space Shuttle, and waves to the crowd below. Now that is quite a spectacle, I think to myself; a museum exhibit and a carnival sideshow in one.
“What do you think of that, Kelly?” I ask, without taking my eyes off of the waving spaceman from above.
A few moments pass before I notice that Kelly isn’t responding to my question. I turn around and see that she is gone. Searching through the moving carousel of people, my eyes quickly spot her taking pictures busily of the miniature Space Shuttle’s extravaganza and of the people’s reaction to its entertaining performance.
Like everyone else, the blast-off of the little Space Shuttle draws our attention to the exhibit. The exhibit is fascinating. It reminds me of how excited I was when my father took me to my first circus. I have that same schoolboy excitement, not able to make up my mind, of what to look at first. Of course I’m not the only child present at the exhibit, but I may be considered the biggest and oldest child here
Yes, something about rockets and the adventure of going into outer space awakens the child-like excitement in most of us. It is in the very nature of all children to imagine, dream, and to ask questions of the unknown.
What would it be like to travel to other worlds in a spacecraft? What is out there beyond the stars? Are there other people just like us out there somewhere, a million light years away? Or could it be that the only celestial creatures that we will encounter are grotesque and ugly, meaning us only harm?
I miss being a child, for the simple reason that when you’re young, it is acceptable for you to imagine and dream and ask questions about fantasy. Grown-up kids like me are required to stay a little closer to realism. Still, while I’m here, caught up in this exhibit that stirs imagination, the child inside me will enjoy these adventures. But I will put forth some effort to be perceived as a mature adult, at least on the outside.
With my hands inside my pockets, I leisurely meander over to where Kelly is standing, looking up and down and all around as I walk. As she takes a roll of film from her camera, she looks up and sees me coming towards her.
“I don’t know, Matt,” she shakes her head, and then pauses.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I brought enough film for this. There is so much going on and so much to see that I may run out.”
“Don’t tell me that Kelly! I know your work too well. I’m sure that you have everything well thought out, and that your photographs will most likely make my story look like drivel.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me, but I have my share of feelings of inadequacy, just like everybody does.”
Gently holding Kelly’s arm, I guide us over towards another video room that is showing videos of the Space Shuttle program.
“Let’s take a break and watch a movie,” I point towards the doorway into the video room.
“We have just got started, and already you want to take a break...” Kelly is partially amused, but mostly bugged at my video room detour.
“I know, I know. Just humor me OK? I don’t want to lose you in the crowd while I watch this video.” I smile real big, hoping to get my way.
“OK,” she agrees. But that means we get to do something later that I want to do.”
The circular video room was set up to comfortably seat about twenty or thirty people. The seating is no more than padded benches on an inclined floor. We sit for awhile, waiting for the video to start.
“Don’t take any pictures of the video. Your camera flashing in the dark will probably disturb the other people trying to watch the video.”
Kelly looks at me, trying to determine if I am kidding or if I’m serious. When she decides I am just being a brat, she responds,
“If you knew as much about writing as you do about photography, you might be able to write a decent story.” Kelly is satisfied that she has given me her best shot. She makes the motions of blowing the smoke from the barrel end of an imaginary revolver, and then places it back in its holster.
The video begins with the famous Vostok-1 flight of April 12, 1961, that took the first man, Russian astronaut Gagarin, into orbit around the earth. The Mercury missions are then shown, with the astronauts, Shephard, Grissom, Glenn, Carpenter, and Cooper making their sequential appearance in history. The Gemini missions are next, followed by the Apollo moon missions.
The film also gives some brief facts about the accidents and tragedies of the Apollo missions. First was Apollo 1 in January 27, 1967. All three astronauts, Grissom, White, and Chaffee die in a fire while conducting a test, inside an Apollo capsule.
Then, while on its way to the moon, Apollo 13 experiences an explosion, causing the mission to end and the astronauts to come home. Only with ingenuity and perseverance, are the astronauts able to scarcely making it back to earth with their lives.
§
THIRTEEN
One of the most famous disasters of the history of NASA is the Space Shuttle Challenger; the Space Shuttle exploding seventy-four seconds after it leaves the ground, killing all seven people aboard. The Shuttle program was then halted immediately and did not resume for two years.
As I watch the Challenger blast off and then explode into pieces on the screen, I think about the people inside. What a terrible way to have your life end.
The video ends and we file out of the little theater with the rest of the audience, to the front of the exhibit. There in front, are two real live Space Shuttle astronauts, shaking hands and signing autographs.
All of a sudden, I am a kid again. I feel like running up and begging for an autograph from a real live astronaut. I swallow hard, and endeavor to keep that feeling inside for the moment. I calmly walk over and reach out my hand.
“Hello, I’m Matthew Brooks, and this here is…” I look around and see that Kelly has not followed me over to the two gentlemen. My eyes sear
ch further over to the video room entrance, and finally see her wearing a blank expression, with her arms crossed in front of her. I step lively back to where Kelly is standing, grab her hand and pull her back in front of the waiting astronauts.
“And this is Miss Kelly O’Hara. We are here representing The Portland Herald, writing a story about the exhibit. One of the astronauts takes Kelly’s hand, and looks her up and down.
“Miss O’Hara, it is a pleasure. I wasn’t aware that reporters were this beautiful.” He winks and extends a courtly smile.
“Thank you Mr.…?”
“I’m Robert Conrad Ma’am, at your service.”
“Mr. Conrad, it is very nice to meet you. I’m not really a reporter; I’m a photographer. Matt is actually the reporter.”
“That explains everything, Miss O’Hara. My theory remains intact.”
“Your theory, Mr. Conrad?”
“Yes Miss O’Hara. I have a theory that all reporters are pushy unattractive people that come from the same family tree as lawyers, politicians, radio disk-jockeys door-to-door salesmen, and of course used car dealers. Now, beautiful photographers are a different story altogether. Beautiful photographers are definitely in a family all of their own, Miss O’Hara.”
“That’s an interesting theory, Mr. Conrad.” Kelly is not in the least bit impressed. I decide to quickly change the subject.
“Mr. Conrad, I know you have heard this question a million times, but I would like to ask it anyway. What is it like to be traveling in space, aboard the Space Shuttle?”
“Well Mr. Brooks; how do you explain what color is to a blind man? There are no human words that can describe it. I can only attempt to put it into human terms for you.
“In the beginning, when you takeoff, it is like the exhilaration of jumping out of a plane at ten thousand feet, coupled with the fear of being face to face with a man-eating lion, about to devour you.
When you are finally in space, you experience the most awesome celestial spiritual experience of beauty that a human has the capacity to comprehend.
As you float up there between the planet earth and infinity, all your fears completely give way to peace and tranquility. It was the most awesome, beautiful, and spiritual experience in my life, Mr. Brooks. I think only God himself could adequately describe it.”
“That sounds very beautiful,” Kelly says. Her unimpressed opinion of the astronaut now is slowly melting away into admiration.
“Yes, thank you Mr. Conrad. That was a very creative characterization. At least now we have a small glimpse into your experience as an astronaut in space. I’m sure we will never completely understand what it’s like, unless we go up there ourselves.”
I asked more questions about space travel, like when did he first know that he wanted to be an astronaut and so on, the usual routine questions.
While Mr. Conrad and I are deep in conversation, Kelly nonchalantly walks behind Mr. Conrad, and begins to signal me. Talking silently with over exaggerated mouth movements, she endeavors to inform me, that we need to get going.
“Well Mr. Conrad, it has been very good to meet you, and it was very good of you to answer all our questions.” I try to bring our discussion to an end.
“It has been a pleasure Mr. Brooks, and I would like to say that it has been a very special pleasure to meet you, Miss O’Hara.” He turns around and lifts Kelly’s hand from her side, holding it for a moment.
“Very nice to meet you too, Mr. Conrad.” She tries to pull her hand away without notice, feeling uneasy at his attentiveness.
“Wait, Mr. Conrad, one last question.” Kelly reveals her impatience by rolling her eyes at my dawdling.
“Have you ever seen any UFOs while aboard the space shuttle?” With a slight smile, I think I am kind of amusing in asking this question.
Mr. Conrad’s face becomes befuddled and somewhat surprised at the question. He looks to the right, then left, then right again. His face becomes serious and deliberate. After a few moments, I break the awkward silence.
“Come on Mr. Conrad, I’m sure that you’ve heard that question a few times before. It’s not a necessary question, if you feel uncomfortable answering it.” I allow him a way out.
After a few seconds of time, he takes a deep breath and looks right at me, straight into my eyes.
“No Mr. Brooks, I want to answer your question.” He looks around us again, to see who might be listening to our conversation.
“Let’s go over here and sit down.” He motions with his hand, pointing to a bench away from the moving crowd of people. He anxiously looks around one more time before he speaks.
“May I call you Matthew, Mr. Brooks?”
“Of course, call me Matt.”
“And please call me Robert, okay?
“Okay, Robert.”
“Now I hope you won’t be too disappointed if I don’t answer your question with a yes or no.”
“You answer it any way you want, Mr. Conrad, I mean, Robert.”
“You know something Matt; I’ve gone into space aboard every one of the Space Shuttles, including the Challenger Shuttle.”
“That’s amazing! You must be one of the only people on Earth that can say that.”
“Yes, it has been a privilege to experience all of it. Each mission I was a part of always turned out to be more exciting than the previous one.”
A little more comfortable now, he has stopped looking over his shoulder. He leans back on the bench and crosses his legs. His face becomes very intent.
“You know Matt, every time I went into space and then came back to Earth; everyone would ask me, ‘what was my trip into space like’.”
“I can understand why. Shooting into space in a rocket, would definitely be something you would tell others about, no matter how many times you did it.”
“Yes, it has been enjoyable to share my experiences with people.
There are a few things though, that I haven’t been able to share with others, or could share with others.”
“What do you mean?” His words begin to sound ominous.
“A few times while I was orbiting the earth in the Shuttle, I saw some inexplicable things.”
“What kind of things?” I ask, trying not to push too far.
“I saw some things Matt that were not a part of our world, as we know it. Of course there might be some kind of explanation for them that we just simply have not discovered.”
“I’m sorry, I’m kind of slow, but could you be more specific about what it was that you saw that was so inexplicable?” I try to coax him.
“Instead of me sitting here and telling you some fantastic story that you may or may not believe; you need to see it for yourself.”
“How could that be possible? You know where some UFOs are right now?”
He turns his head quickly towards me in surprise, as if I had said a curse word in church.
“I didn’t say anything about UFOs, Mr. Brooks. Nor have I said that I have seen any UFOs or have I told you that I believe that there is such a thing as UFOs.” He looks over his shoulder, once again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest anything. I just was wondering how I was supposed to see these inexplicable things for myself.”
“It’s all right Matt.” He raises his palm in a gesture.
“It’s all right. I get very jumpy when the word UFO is mentioned. Making it public that you believe in such a thing has ruined many a career. There are those in high places that wouldn’t like it much, if they knew some of their astronauts actually believed in such a concept as the existence of UFOs.”
“I can understand your wanting to be cautious Robert but...”
“I’ll tell you what Matt; this is what I want you to do. I want you to go back into that little video theater and watch the video of the Challenger disaster again. Look for something unusual, something unexplained. If you still can’t see it, buy the video. They sell them over there.” He motions across the walkway to a gift shop.
/> He stands up abruptly, and shakes my hand. This time he does not make an effort to hold Kelly’s hand, but only waves to her, and then walks back to where the other astronaut is standing, still signing autographs. Kelly and I are left somewhat hazy at the meaning of his instructions and blunt departure.
Both of us dawdle there by the bench for a moment, a little bothered. We stare across the walkway watching Mr. Conrad, as he begins to greet people and sign autographs once again. Kelly, already anxious to move on to other attractions that are more fascinating than space travel, finds Mr. Conrad’s rather cryptic farewell the last straw. She is now fed up and bored.
“Now Matt, Don’t tell me you’re going to go back into that video room again and watch that movie one more time.” Folding her arms, she waits for my response.
“Well, actually, it might take more than one time.” I brace myself for the detonation of Kelly’s displeasure, but nothing happens, and no words are uttered. Kelly definitely looks as though she is in turmoil, but exerts an immense amount of energy to extinguish the fuse inside her. I’m impressed with her self-control. Finally finding a measure of peace, she makes a suggestion.
“Why don’t you go watch your movie? I’ll go on my own for awhile,” she submits. I send her an affirmative smile, but do not receive one in return,
“OK, that sounds just fine. Let’s say we meet back here in one hour. How would that work?”
“OK. I’ll see you in one hour. If you’re not out by then, I’ll keep looking on my own.”
It is amazing to me how a woman that is the epitome of beauty, so velvety soft in appearance on the outside, can at times have such boiling infuriation just below the surface.
I guess I am one of those senseless males that expect a woman to be just a delicate flower, nothing more than beauty to be admired. I am learning slowly that a beautiful woman is so much more than a beautiful woman. Although she may be wonderful to look at on the outside, she is as intricate and complex inside, as the celestial order of the Universe.
Wyatt, Richard Page 12
