A Simple Request
By Robert Gounley
Dear Spacer Santa:
We haven't talking in a long time. Guess I've been busy. Well, maybe not so much busy as doubtful. It's not really cool for grown-ups to write to Santa. I'm willing to fight prevailing fashions in a lot of ways, but corresponding with an elf really tests my resolve.
Please don't be annoyed by a grown-up looking for a favor—this isn't about mutual funds. I'm not asking for a wish to be gran-ted, at least not exactly. Think of it as an opportunity for us to make something wonderful together. With our combined imaginations, hard work, and just a little of magic, anything's possible.
Here's the background—My generation grew up watching men walk on the Moon. What a thrill! For kids like me, Humani-ty's future in space looked bright and limitless. As adults, we all could live and work in Outer Space. The Moon was only the beginning. By the 21st Century trips to Mars and the asteroids would be routine.
Mind you, that vision didn't click with everyone. Schoolmates called us "geeks" and pretty much ignored us. Time passed and we found others who shared our vision. We gathered, talked, and eventually formed space groups to promote our dreams. It helped us keep the faith when space fell away from the public eye. As young adults we called ourselves "spacers" and boasted that the world would soon be remade in our grand vision.
For a while, it looked like it might happen. The number of people who had flown in space grew from tens to hundreds. We might be a bit gray in the temples by the time our turn came, but it would come—surely before the 21st Century.
It didn't work the way we'd planned. It's the 21st Century now and few of us have ever been to space. We carry painful memories of lives lost and expectations unfulfilled. There are no hotels in Earth orbit. There are no mines on the Moon. Human fingers have yet to scratch in Martian soil.
In the last thirty years, robots have gone to the really cool places while people got no higher than low Earth orbit. The vision that once bound all spacers has split into a dozen competing philosophies. Too often, we argue, assign blame for our disappointment, and allow opportunities fall away. It's not a pretty sight.
In spite of all this, the dream has not gone away. Spacers still gather to talk and argue, but more and more of them are doing things to change the present we glumly accept into the future we'd always wanted. Some are working to make space tourism a paying proposition. Others build new rockets—some at large aerospace companies and others in their garages. Many plan human expeditions to Mars or back to the Moon—this time to stay.
The kids and young adults have got the dream, too. All they need is a little direction to get them started.
Here's the deal—with so much hope and so many talent, any great success could light a fire through the entire spacer community. Just sprinkle a little good luck onto one worthwhile project. It's not important which. Pick something outlandish that will shake our preconceptions about what is possible. An eager community of aspiring explorers will do the rest.
Do you think you can do that? Don't answer right away—in fact don't answer at all. Just give a tiny nudge where it will make a difference and stand back.
That's all I have to ask for right now. Thank you for your time. Give my regards to the Big Guy Upstairs.
P.S.—Next year, can we discuss mutual funds?
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