Godspeed

I've been obsessed with space ever since I first looked up at the night sky. My mom even has me on tape at 18 months or so trying to talk about the moon.

So as the space shuttle program comes to a close this month, I (along with many others) have been reflecting back on what it's meant to me. Essentially, the shuttle program and I have grown up together. It's been a major influence in my life and what I've chosen to do. Regardless of any political, economical, or even scientific arguments on the practicality of manned spaceflight, the sheer power of inspiration cannot be ignored.

I grew up just outside of Washington, D.C. and was lucky enough to be able to go to the National Air & Space Museum almost whenever I wanted. In 1985, my mom took me there to see The Dream is Alive, the IMAX film on the shuttle program, which was still in its infancy. If I had any doubt that I wanted to go to space before then, that film obliterated it. I can still close my eyes and replay it in my mind. I can hear the sonic booms at the start, retrace the camera sequence over the beach and marshes to the shuttle on the launch pad, and jump despite myself when the astronauts practice their emergency egress from the cockpit and zip down the escape lines.

I won't bore you with every space shuttle related memory I have (we would be here all day), but I'd like to mention someone who went out of his way to help me pursue my own space dreams. After college, I went to work at Orbital Space Sciences Corporation, in Dulles, VA on the X-34 Reusable Launch Vehicle Program. Somewhere in my first year, we got a new program director: ex-astronaut G. David Low. David was not what you immediately think of when picturing an astronaut; he was relatively small in stature and quiet in nature, not at all the outgoing fly-boy stereotype. I can still remember our first all-staff meeting in the high-bay where I had to strain to even hear him. Soon enough though, I got to experience what an amazing leader and mentor he could be.

One weekend when we were all working through a program review, I was grabbing a slice of pizza in the conference room and David mentioned to me that he had heard I wanted to be an astronaut. I never in a million years would have walked up to him and asked for advice, that's just the way I was at the time, but here he was actively volunteering to answer any questions and do what he could to help. In the summer of 2001, he helped me plan a trip to Johnson Space Center to meet with the head of the astronaut office and some of his former colleagues who were still active in the astronaut corps. Every single person I met welcomed me with open arms and spoke fondly of working with David. When I finally did apply to be an astronaut, David jumped at the chance to provide a reference.

I left Orbital to go back to school in the fall of 2001, but I frequently went back to visit my colleagues (most of whom are now good friends) and I always made a point of stopping in to see David. He had a way of making me feel full of potential, like I could do anything I set my mind to. He made everyone around him better. I'm speaking in the past tense because David passed away in March of 2008 due to colon cancer. I still miss him greatly and often come across things I wish I could share with him. I would love hear his perspective on the future of manned spaceflight given the crossroads we are currently at. I know he would say this is not the end, just a hiatus of sorts.

I like to think the same of my time with David. It didn't end when he died, it just got disrupted. He led and inspired others by example; something he and the space shuttle program have in common. Both have played important roles in my life and have made me who I am today. And I will carry both of them in my heart and my mind as I step into the future.

Godspeed G. David Low, wherever you are, and godspeed Atlantis.