The space shuttle Atlantis blasted off for its final journey yesterday morning. All of the three remaining shuttles - Atlantis, Discovery, and Endeavour - will be decommissioned by the end of the year: a long-planned but, nevertheless, deflating end to the current era of American manned spaceflight.
Particularly in light of Obama's cuts to the Bush-era Constellation program, it is difficult to picture the future. Although I understand that it can be hard to justify funding manned spaceflight when we have so many other competing priorities, I can't help but feel saddened by the fact the lack of something definitive to look forward to.
Of all of the shuttles, I have the most fondness for Atlantis. When I was growing up, in maybe 1993 or '94, my sister and I spent a week or two with our grandparents in Florida. Their house was in Palm Coast, which I guess is relatively close to Cape Canaveral. We were in my grandfather's white Cadillac, returning to the house (possibly after a breakfast at Denny's) when one of the neighbors flagged us down. He was standing in the street and asked if we were planning to watch the shuttle launch.
It seemed silly to stand there in the middle of the road in the summer heat, staring up at the blue sky. But, sure enough, we could see it blasting off in the distance, ascending like a bright skywriter. As the shuttle climbed higher, the neighbor, who spoke with a thick British accent, murmured, "Yes, there it is. I think it's called... Atlantis."
Even as the shuttles are retired, my love affair with NASA will continue. Sadly, however, it will have to do so without the most recognizable and dream-inspiring symbol of space exploration. Maybe they'll put one in the Air and Space Museum downtown?
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