Words Matter -- This time, in a good way

At one point in all of our lives, we've been told by our parents, teachers, clergy, and others, that words matter. It's usually in the aftermath of something horrific happening as a result of throwing insults at or bullying others.

But this morning my husband handed his phone to me so I could read an email that had been sent to him by an old high school friend; someone with whom we haven't been in touch in many years. The email was actually intended for me, but she didn't have my contact information - so she went through my husband in hopes of reaching me.

There is no need for me to go into her exact words, but please know that she inspired me to be all I could be today. Her words made all the difference in the world to me -- today. 

Those of you who know me, also know that I lost my sister nearly a year ago. Facebook reminds me of this everyday, while it automatically shows me photos I posted of her during the month of her sudden illness. And you also know that I fall into slumps because of my 'aloneness' since she's been gone.

I can't say that our friend's words pulled me out of my "slump," but I can say that sometimes -- when you least expect it -- there's someone who comes out of nowhere and has a positive influence on your day. Maybe even without meaning to or even knowing.

This is a particularly hard week. On the 23rd, it will be a year since I watched my sister open her eyes for the last time and take her last breath. It will be a year since I've seen her beautiful smile and heard her soft and calming voice.

Locally, everyone sees me out and about, putting on the happy face they all expect to see. It would probably be very shocking for them to learn where I am in my head most of the time. Most people put a time limit on grief and the sadness that ensues after the loss of a loved one. Most people see themselves as helping by avoiding the topic. Most people don't really know or want to know how to help.

The truth is that in this mature adult life I am now living, I have learned how to cocoon myself in order to hide what I'm going through. And in that cocoon, I try to think away the pain. By that I mean that I keep myself busy -- usually in my craft studio. I know that's unhealthy, but to be honest, I'm afraid that if I allow myself to breakdown, I'll be forever broken. 

I'm lonely and I'm heartbroken, but I'm also very angry about her death. I blame this country's failing healthcare system; a system that doesn't really care about the health of the people paying into it, but rather it cares only about its profits.

I'd rather be numb. I wish I could be numb.

I miss my big sister. Without her, I feel like a bird whose wings have been clipped. She was my best friend, and like my mother, she was on the Sydney cheerleading squad. When those positive voices leave your life, your soul becomes empty.

This morning, my friend's words lifted me and reminded me of things my sister used to say to me. My friend didn't know my sister, didn't know about my loss, didn't know anything -- and still doesn't. She felt compelled to reach out to me for other reasons, and her words motivated me to "do wonders and eat green cucumbers" (as my mother used to say). 

I did cocoon myself today, but also completed quite a few projects. I know I'll be in my cocoon for the next few weeks. So, if any of you reading this are local friends, please know that if I don't seem to be "myself" for a few days -- I really am.

There's Nothing Like Alone Time with Your Son. Thanks, SpaceX!

Anyone who's lived in Florida since at least the 1960s has a story related to Cape Canaveral, NASA, the space program, and launches. 

Yesterday's launch of the SpaceX Falcon Heavy was nothing short of spectacular, historic, and a bit quirky at the same time. My son and I spent the day waiting for that final countdown that was delayed three times -- but was well worth the wait.

Standing as tall as a 20-story building, the Falcon Heavy awaited its debut against a backdrop of beautiful blue skies and an equally beautiful aqua ocean as hundreds of thousands of people gathered for the long-awaited maiden voyage of the world's most powerful rocket.

(Photo borrowed from SpaceX website.)

But it was so much more!
Yesterday meant the world to me, but to get there, please allow me to share these stories:

My own first memory of anything having to do with space goes all the way back to 1961, and I remember it like it happened just this morning. My family's Sunday routine always included going to church, coming home to a big dinner of fried chicken, then going out for a Sunday drive in my parents' convertible. My younger sister and I would usually fall asleep. After a couple hours of driving around (maybe even all the way to downtown Miami), we'd go home to "breakfast supper" (eggs and bacon), do the dishes, and then we'd all watch The Wonderful World of Disney together. After that, it was time for bed. Sunday was family day.

But on this one particular Sunday in 1961, we took a much later drive and went out for dinner. We never ate at restaurants! Mother's cooking was all we needed! This must have been a special occasion; I don't remember. But I do remember that on our drive home, with the convertible down and the sun setting, I began pointing to the stars and telling my parents the names of the constellations we could see, how far away the moon was, and the names of the planets in our solar system. My mother exclaimed, "Sydney, you're going to be the first female astronaut!"

Oh my gosh, I remember being so excited by her words and by the thought of someday traveling to the moon. I remember getting good grades when we studied the heavens in school. I remember really wanting to be an astronaut.  (Of course, for those of you who know me today, you know how fearful I am of flying, so at some point – becoming an astronaut wasn’t an option.) But it was great knowing that my mom thought I could do it.

For my birthday in 1961, my mother gave me a gift of being on the Skipper Chuck Show. This was a live daily children’s show in Miami that had a waiting list a mile long. My TV debut was scheduled for Feb. 20, 1962. I waited patiently as the days slowly moved towards February. Finally, the day arrived and it was time to be on Skipper Chuck!  But it was also the day John Glen roared into space, circling the globe three times, before returning home.

I had been preempted by the first American astronaut to orbit Earth! 

Ha ha ha

Not me on the Skipper Chuck Show!!

And so began my entry into the world of space nerdiness. From that point forward, we watched every single launch, moon walk, space walk, and landing from the comfort of our living room in Miami.

We all know where we were and what we were doing when Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon. We mourned at the loss of life when the first manned Apollo exploded during a test, killing three astronauts. We sat glued to our televisions and radio sets as lives were in the balance when Apollo 13's oxygen tank ruptured.

Soon after we moved to Fort Pierce, the first Space Shuttle flight launched. And, since these rockets were so big and powerful, we were able to see the launches from our new home.

We took our brand new pop-up camper to a campground right near our home, 

spent a couple days testing it out and watched the very first Space Shuttle launch on April 12, 1981. 

Right in the middle of the lower photo, you can barely see the trail left behind by that first Shuttle launch.

Never taking the space program for granted, we watched every single launch -- including the fateful launch of the Jan. 28, 1986 Space Shuttle Challenger and the devastating reentry explosion of the Space Shuttle Columbia on Feb. 1, 2003.

Only a year before my father’s life was eaten away by Alzheimer’s disease, the family met in Titusville to watch John Glen, at the age of 77, return to space aboard the Shuttle Discovery on Oct. 29, 1998.  Overcome with emotion, my father cried as the shuttle moved away from earth. He cried as if John Glen was a personal friend. He cried because John Glen represented a re-birth for the Greatest Generation. 

And we all cried with him.

About 30-seconds after the launch, we felt the earth move from the force of the boosters.

My big sister also had a love of the space program, and when her job transferred her to Titusville, she became engrossed in it. She was so lucky, because she lived and worked less than a mile from the Indian River, and right across the river at that very point was Cape Canaveral and its launch pads. She would call me before each launch and we’d "watch them together.” Me from my home in Fort Pierce, and she from the best vantage point of the state. She even bought a bumper sticker that looked like a NASA employee placard, hoping her classmates attending their reunion would think she worked for NASA. She called me afterward to tell me that no one even noticed.

Ha ha ha 

Suffice to say that since its inception, the space program has been a part of the lives of my family.
Watching yesterday's historic launch was an incredible experience. It was so much fun totally geeking out with my son. But it was more than history in the making and more than science and technology.

It was me and my 42-year old son alone together for seven uninterrupted hours. 

That just never happens.

One on one. No faces in phones.

It was magical. It was monumental. It was unforgettable.

We talked. (Oh my gosh did we ever talk!)  I told him every launch story I could think of.
We laughed. He told me me some stories about his high school antics.

We learned. We talked about each other's jobs, politics, and - of course - about the space program.

And, yes, we cried. We talked about his Gramma and Grampa (my parents), my big sister, and other losses we're still working through.

But most of all, we shared -- we shared an experience that, as nerdy as it may sound, meant the world to him. And therefore, it meant the world to me.

In these times of ever-changing technology and the soon-to-be space travel program, Feb. 6, 2018 will forever be remembered by millions of people who will recall where they were and what they were doing the day SpaceX successfully launched the most powerful rocket and its intriguing payload into space.

Elon Musk has his Starman in flight, but mine is right here on Earth with me.

At the end of the day, after the contrails had disappeared and Elon Musk's 2008 Tesla was orbiting the Earth, my son and I packed things up and headed for home -- with a pocketful of great memories.


Priceless!!

Thank you, son!

Until we meet, again, Starman, "Don't Panic and Float On!"