Florida’s Space Coast Launches Memories

A trip to the Kennedy Space Center embraces the past and celebrates the future.

In June 2007, the space shuttle Atlantis rose through clouds of steam and fire, slowly rolling and rapidly accelerating toward space. I held my 6-year-old son in my arms and watched from the back of a cruise ship that had just left Port Canaveral, Florida.

As the shuttle disappeared through the clouds, I couldn’t help but feel personal pride. I remembered a famous story about how President John F. Kennedy visited NASA’s Launch Operations Center in 1962 and encountered a janitor. Kennedy said, "Hi, I'm Jack Kennedy. What are you doing?" The man responded, “Mr. President, I'm helping put a man on the moon.”

I have no idea if that story is true, but the point remains: We are all part of something bigger than ourselves.

I worked for 16 years at the Johnson Space Center (JSC) in Houston, starting as a 16-year-old dishwasher in the visitors cafeteria and eventually working my way into the Mission Control building. My initial job was menial, but it’s hard not to be inspired when you drive past a Saturn V rocket — the same kind that took astronauts to the moon — on your way to work every day.

Working at JSC felt like a calling, an opportunity to work for the greater good of humanity. While there, I met astronauts who jetted off into space, shared the elation of the first shuttle launch and felt the pain of the Challenger explosion — indelible memories still.

When I left JSC in 1995 to pursue new adventures, my one regret was that I never made it to the Kennedy Space Center (KSC), the epicenter for manned Apollo and shuttle launches. Because 2019 is the 50th anniversary of the lunar landing, I decided it was time to plan a trip to Florida’s Space Coast to reconnect with my earlier passion.

Schoolchildren and retirees seemed equally thrilled at KSC. Whether people relate to the Mercury 7 astronauts, the space shuttle or the newest commercial ventures, they have a strong desire to explore the galaxy.

I spent eight hours at the space center and still didn’t see everything. I was like a nerdy kid at a science fair, transported back to the days of black-framed glasses, pocket protectors and slide rules. I loved every minute of it.

One of my favorite moments happened while watching a movie about the origins of the space shuttle program. The screen suddenly became transparent and then opened to reveal a shuttle.

It was Atlantis, the same orbiter my son and I watched hurl toward the heavens. Four years after our bonding moment, the space shuttle program ended. I felt a kinship with the spacecraft that hung silently in the museum — the torch has been passed to a newer, younger generation of people and machines.

As I gazed upon Atlantis, I reflected on my own brush with space and the enduring pride of being part of something bigger.

Two words came to mind — mission accomplished.