
Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
In mid-February 2021, my son and I watched the live feed from the NASA control room as the newest Mars rover made its final descent onto the red planet.
Before its mission could truly begin, Perseverance had traveled 300 million miles for over six months, and would still have to survive this highly precarious landing. I don’t know if my son fully grasped the enormity of the moment.
But I was surprised to find myself in tears.
Maybe I was simply consumed by the tension built up in those “seven minutes of terror” and the explosion of relief and joy that followed.
Perhaps I became disoriented watching a vehicle reach a distant planet when I have not ventured more that 20 miles from my own home in months.
Surely, I was moved to see the number of women involved – in that control room and interviewed as part of the mission’s scientific and technical teams.
Maybe I cried wondering what might have been if I had chosen those astronomy labs in college, the ones I didn’t take because they conflicted with my evening theatre rehearsals.
Perhaps I felt a wistful craving to be a member of that kind of smart and creative team, involved in a collaborative striving toward some inspiring goal.
Possibly, I grieved a bit for my young adult, who is on a very different trajectory from others his age plotting to make their own contributions to science or the arts.
Maybe I had a stronger sense of our separation from the outside world – an isolation exacerbated by the pandemic, but very much a part of our “usual” autism life. (C’mon, my new hack for keeping my toilet paper within reach since my son likes to move to roll holder is literally not on the same planet as the discoveries these people are making.)
Perhaps all these thoughts combined to make me feel both insignificant and proudly connected to the promise of what humans can achieve.
Undoubtedly, my tearful reaction had something to do with turning 50 today...
Please go boldly to https://itslikethis.substack.com/p/explorations for the full transcript.
In mid-February 2021, my son and I watched the live feed from the NASA control room as the newest Mars rover made its final descent onto the red planet.
Before its mission could truly begin, Perseverance had traveled 300 million miles for over six months, and would still have to survive this highly precarious landing. I don’t know if my son fully grasped the enormity of the moment.
But I was surprised to find myself in tears.
Maybe I was simply consumed by the tension built up in those “seven minutes of terror” and the explosion of relief and joy that followed.
Perhaps I became disoriented watching a vehicle reach a distant planet when I have not ventured more that 20 miles from my own home in months.
Surely, I was moved to see the number of women involved – in that control room and interviewed as part of the mission’s scientific and technical teams.
Maybe I cried wondering what might have been if I had chosen those astronomy labs in college, the ones I didn’t take because they conflicted with my evening theatre rehearsals.
Perhaps I felt a wistful craving to be a member of that kind of smart and creative team, involved in a collaborative striving toward some inspiring goal.
Possibly, I grieved a bit for my young adult, who is on a very different trajectory from others his age plotting to make their own contributions to science or the arts.
Maybe I had a stronger sense of our separation from the outside world – an isolation exacerbated by the pandemic, but very much a part of our “usual” autism life. (C’mon, my new hack for keeping my toilet paper within reach since my son likes to move to roll holder is literally not on the same planet as the discoveries these people are making.)
Perhaps all these thoughts combined to make me feel both insignificant and proudly connected to the promise of what humans can achieve.
Undoubtedly, my tearful reaction had something to do with turning 50 today...
Please go boldly to https://itslikethis.substack.com/p/explorations for the full transcript.