The NASA Art Program

Here is a link. A very interesting link.

http://www.nasa.gov/externalflash/NASAart_book/

What many...most people don't know is that NASA administrator James Webb instituted the NASA art program in the very early day of the agency. He had the foresight to see not only how significant the space program would be, but also how much it would and could influence our society and culture. Professional artists were invited to NASA facilities and to launches, and they produced magnificent art work which the majority of the public has never seen or is even aware of the existence. This link takes you to a site that has a very small sampling of this wonderful collection. As evocative and beautiful as these selections are, it is only a peek at the rich heritage that art has left us, giving the artist's unique interpretation of that which is reported so precisely and mundanely in the news media. In October 2008 a book will hit the stands which is entitled, "NASA/Art: 50 Years of Exploration". It's a 176 page presentation of the history of the NASA art program accompanied by a larger look at the collection. No, this is not a commercial for the book, or even for NASA. This is a desire to share the unseen human soul of NASA and of the men and women who have plumbed the depths of it and of their own souls to find the place where humanity, art and science meet.

Whatever

I'm never good with titles. Sir Blog. Baron Blog. Lady Blog. Choose a title. Submit a title. Critique titles.

The sky has lightened considerably, turning from the inky black of a moonless morning to the pale blue of dawn, scattered about with puffy fair weather cumulus which are kissed by the not-yet-risen sun, blushing deep pink in their discomfiture. And in the brief moment taken to tap out those words, the clouds have regained their composure and now stand pale steely grey, serious in their watch over the waking world, sentinels of the new day just breaking. The trees stand at serious attention as well, unfluttered by breeze, lacking even movement of birds to disturb their stationary leaves. The day begins somberly.

And yet furthermore

If that was all there was to it, and if this was all to expect of the much anticipated moment, and if this was all it was cracked up to be, and if this was the proof that all the work was worth it, and if the hokie pokie is what it's all about, and if the quick brown fox always jumps over the lazy dog, always including each and every letter of the alphabet once and only once, and if mothers were always loving and sisters were always true friends, and if life was always equitable and just, and if patience really was a virtue, and if little girls were in actuality sugar and spice and everything nice, and if boys truly consisted of snips and snails and puppy dog tails, then there would, indeed, be no need for the moment.

Well...

Here I am again. A re-beginning. I have come through the fire and survived...singed and burned, but alive. I have re-claimed my life...for the moment. As always, the promised respite has not panned out in reality. Alas, such is reality. Thus the popularity of the internet. It is a place where reality doesn't always exist, and can be so elastic where it does exist. And so I take my first step out of reality and into a world that I can mold to try to recover my wits.

Ares I PDR and Phase I: the worst ever work experience I have had in 27.5 years at NASA. Bar none. Even when we were launching about every 6-8 weeks in 1985, I never worked this hard...or was treated so badly in my career. Excuse me, my job; I no longer consider it a career. It is a paycheck and allows me to live. That is all. People with careers are not treated this way, or assumed to be so dim about an area in which they have specialized for so long. But that is all I will say about the miserable experience. It is over and gone...shoo, go away.

I have lost contact with many friends because of Work, which has owned my soul for so long. Not many have been understanding about the time required, leaving little time for socializing and such. My most wonderful better half and I have suffered because of it as well. Gratefully that bond was strengthened by the experience, not weakened.

I say I will not speak of it further, and yet I continue to refer to "it" even if I do not directly name it. Such is the lasting effect it has had on me. Not quite to the point of PTSD, but not very far away at all. I have endured worse and lived to tell the tale.

So, I endeavour to end on a positive note after all. I had a wonderful 50th birthday in August. I'm just back from a restful vacation. "Holiday season" is upon us and I have a great deal of leave to burn. I imagine it going up in a long, wandering line of sweet smoke like the leaves of fall in the backyard burn pit. And I intend to enjoy it in the same manner, sitting near the warm and aromatic fire, relaxing and contemplating all the creative and useful things I will do as the cool days enclose me in my cocoon of home, away from the world, away from reality.

Gee...

It's still here. Looks the same. Hmm... Nothing has changed. *kicks tires* Holding up good. But what a thick layer of dust. Maybe next time I visit, it will have developed cobwebs.

Quite interesting are people

Have you ever seen a person transform before your eyes? I don't mean something as simple as changing their mind or going from frown to smile. I mean a deep, significant change, and you see it happen as you watch this person? Well, I have. And it was one of the most fascinating things to see.

A close friend of mine, George, is a clown. He will do anything for a laugh. Even when the subject is serious, he injects humor; not to make fun of the subject. It's a natural ability he has to be able to bring humor into situations without seeming to make light of them. Watching him talk politics, however, is a thing unto itself. He can get himself stirred up so quickly and so considerably with a rant that isn't just a rant, but shows his frustration and concern and makes good points. But he does get stirred up and can't be still or keep his voice down. Everyone in the building hears him. He's hyper anyway and that just doubles it.

Well, the congressman from our district is retiring. It was never in George's mind to get involved in politics, at least not as an office holder. As an informed citizen in dialogue with elected officials...always. However, several people around him urged him, and he, to my very great surprise, decided to enter the race.

So, on Sunday morning while he was talking strategy and trading information with his strategist, that's when the transformation took place. George came in with his usual bluster, but when he and Dennis began to talk...this hyper, voluble, tornado of a man became a settled, orderly and incisive speaker and thinker. His usual level of inform and knowledge was and always has been present, and yet it packaged itself up into a person who could run and could be elected, from the wacky clown who usually greets me with a deafening GOOD MORNING!!!! and a crushing hug. This was a congressman now, not a clown. No ranting but real discussion and exchange of information. An entirely different man, and yet the same. I've heard people speak of instantaneous transformations and I always nodded and basically ignored it. Until now. I've seen it, and it was an amazing sight to see. Even when (not if) he shifts back to wacky mode, I'll never forget what I saw and the impression it made on me. Beneath the thin nutty surface, there is a deep passionate man who truly cares and understands.

SSME TTB

This is a photo of a Space Shuttle Main Engine being tested here at Marshall Space Flight Center. I recall the days of working in building 4666. We could step out behind the building and be about 300 yards from the test stand. You'd see the igniter light, but it would take a handful of seconds before the sound got to you, and the pressure wave. You could see the pressure wave traveling as it pushed aside the bushes and long grass and then...wow, it would hit you square in the chest. The roar of power owned your ears...no point trying to converse. The engine demanded your attention until the flash of the lights at engine level signaling that the cut-off signal had been given. Then the roar died off into answering echoes, and you could hear...a bit muted for a while. Wow