"...We Go As Far As We Can See...And When We Get There...We See Farther..."

The question was, likely, meant as both a curiousity and a satire.

A good friend posted this on Facebook earlier today....

"Why are some of my work friends watching the Space Shuttle landing?? Is this porn for nerds? Tell me cuz I'm missing something."

It should be mentioned, if only for purposes of context, that this friend is a native of England and while he is a good, true and loyal transplanted American, it's understandable that he might see the whole shuttle "final flight" as much ado about nada.

That and he's a young man, not close to old enough to experience the sentimental attachment to what, for us olders, is the completion of a very historic cycle.

As for myself, while I didn't hang online or around the flat screen today to witness the "flight" to D.C., I was aware of it.

 And there were moments throughout the day when memory moments bubbled their way to the surface of my frontal lobe.

My third grade teacher bringing the black and white portable into the classroom on that day in 1961 when Alan Shepherd became the first American to ride a rocket into space.

The ticker tape parade paying literally littering tribute to John Glenn upon the completion of three orbits of our planet in a capsule not much bigger than the Ford Pinto that sat in my driveway years later.

The live coverage and videotape replay of Ed White opening the door of the two man Gemini capsule and wandering around in the magnificent blackness of space, the magnificent blue and white ball of Earth filling the emptiness below him.

The terrible news bulletin announcing the death of Gus Grissom, Roger Chaffee and that same Ed White, the first American space traveler fatalities, as they sat on the launch pad, inside their Apollo capsule, performing nothing ostensibly more dangerous than some routine tests, the actual liftoff still days away.

The moving moment, Christmas Eve 1968, as the astronauts read from the Book of Genesis while orbiting just a few miles above the surface of the moon. Armstrong setting foot on the lunar surface just seven months later.

The dramatic life or death journey of Apollo 13.

The very first shuttle launch and safe return.

The horror of Challenger exploding in mid take off.

The loss of Columbia on its return from the stars.

And, as if it were scripted by one of Hollywood's finest, the final orbital flight of the space shuttle Endeavour, commanded by Mark Kelly, one of the only set of twins to ever travel into space and the husband of Gabrielle Giffords who, for so many, has come to exemplify not only courage and resilence, but the embodiment of what we, sometimes too freely, throw around in our conversations as "the American spirit."

A story of triumph and tragedy, of adventure and accomplishment, of guts and glory, all played out within a single lifetime....and all brought to a spectacular conclusion with a symbolic flight across the nation inspired by those who gave their all to be a part of that story.

That, my friend, is why some of your work friends were watching today.

But, amidst all the sentiment and spectacle, there remains, at the heart of it all, a much simpler explanation.

Not only in terms of why it matters...but in terms of why we do it, as well.

And that explanation was provided, right on the money, by writer Aaron Sorkin in an episode of "The West Wing."

A probe to Mars had malfunctioned and was, apparently, a complete loss.




 

We watched the shuttle headed home today because it's what we do.

Just before we ask..."what's next?"