Lo-Fidelity: ‘Ground Control to Major Tom’

I found myself deeply under the lunar influence all week. Everywhere I go, I’ve been asking people if they saw the Artemis 2 blast-off or any live coverage. Bafflingly, next to nobody I’ve queried has. Why is that? I guess I mistakenly thought a historic mission around the dark side of the moon was a way bigger deal. Is our collective indifference a testament to where we are as a society, or am I somehow conflating my own dissociation with an overarching cultural malaise of apathy? 

All week, I’ve been leaning into space-themed classic rock songs — from Bowie, Floyd, Montrose, Paul Kantner and Jefferson Starship to Def Leppard. I pondered the moon mission’s gravitational pull on pop culture. Like, where do you suppose the “microwave” ski fashion craze came from? The Artemis 2 mission is inspiring me to be nicer to people, explore more and to be a better person. 

Personally, I’ve found what’s goin’ down in space considerably more compelling than happenings on Earth right now. 

I watched the launch live simultaneously on my phone and TV. I wept and broke out in goosebumps when the flight controller went through the checklist sequencing, followed by an inspirational pep talk to the astronauts. I hadn’t felt that patriotic in quite some time. 

Interestingly enough, the live television coverage lagged behind by roughly 30 seconds. Was the because of Challenger? As the massive Artemis 2 rocket hurtled towards the heavens, I was on the edge of my couch. I was horrified the thing was going to blow-up.

To my generation, the Challenger tragedy represented an indelible “Where were you when …” moment. I was on a mid-morning Aspen High School break, parked on Hunter Street in front of Ozzies in my parents’ red Jeep, listing to KSNO AM radio. The ABC breaking news bulletin rang remorseless through the speaker. I was blindsided. Acute numbness ensued. I sat there in shock with my mouth open, entirely unable to consume the maple bar and box of milk I’d just purchased. 

Aspen’s unique tie-in to the Challenger was John Denver. From what I’ve read, he wanted to be on that thing in a bad way. When the powers-that-be decided putting a “celebrity” on the space shuttle would be a “bad look,” they went with the teacher Christa McAuliffe instead. After the Challenger tragedy happened, John was justifiably wrought with a deep-seated guilt and despair. He even wrote a song about his feelings called “Flying for Me” and performed a benefit show for the grieving families. This is my loose understanding, anyways.

In my travels, I’ve also been asking people if they’d go to the moon. The general consensus is “No.” If someone held a gun to my head and made me choose between getting into a NASA rocket and a Space-X craft, I’d have to go with NASA.

I guess I’m so geeked-out on the Artemis 2 mission because I grew up in an era when space flight was on the forefront of America’s psyche. I was a mere kindergartener in Los Angeles when the Apollo moon mission was happening. I eagerly chugged Tang and snacked on chocolate and peanut butter-flavored Pillsbury food sticks—the purported thirst quencher and sustenance of astronauts. Walter Cronkite kept me abreast of the astronauts trials and travails. I wore Apollo pajamas to bed each night and dreamt of being an astronaut. The closest I ever got to be an astronaut was in ski school at Buttermilk as an “Aspenaut.” Staring in amazement down at Earth from the window of an airplane is more my speed. 

There’s a gaping hole in my bucket-list, but a dream scenario of mine would be to watch the Artemis 4 moon mission launch live from Florida. I yearn to feel the raw power of the rockets as they tear a hole in the sky. My curiosity’s deep-seated in the name of exploration and a “furthering” of the human race. It’s all pretty heady stuff when you stare up into the night sky — or, as John Denver would say, “Far out!” 

I was fascinated how the Orion spacecraft circled the globe twice, then sling-shotted out of Earth’s orbit. That’d be like speeding around the roundabout a few times then flooring it out of the downvalley exit. I was watching the NASA feed from bed when the Canadian astronaut busted-out his cellphone and started rapping out with his mom. Damn, dude. Who’s your carrier? I can’t even get good reception on Owl Creek or Highlands! 

I also got a kick out of how the sun was shining into the capsule so brightly, the astronauts had to cover one of the windows with a t-shirt, kind of like you have to do sometimes on a long roadtrip. 

Does anyone remember the James Bond movie (was it “Moonraker”?) with the sequence of skiing on the moon filmed on the backside of Aspen Mountain during the Marvin Davis/20th Century Fox/SkiCo-ownership era? I recall sitting in the ISIS watching the scene as the raucous local ski crowd went crazy. I wonder if the IKON pass of the future will include ski-days on the moon? I’d totally go if it did. 

Splashdown is at 6:07 p.m. Friday if anyone cares.

Contact Lorenzo via suityourself@sopris.net.