Tagged: Travel
Part 2 – I’m Moving to Mars in 2022
The question remains: “Are humans really going to be living on Mars in 2023?” To begin my research, I found an editorial written by former moon-walker himself Buzz Aldrin. This year he wrote that notions of going back to the moon should be discarded in favor of exploring Mars; and he said, “Going to Mars means staying on Mars…” (Aldrin). Well, for me, that about settled it; we’re going to Mars. Okay, maybe it didn’t settle anything, but I liked that he agreed with the requirement that the trip be one way. I was also excited to see that an authority on the subject is clearly as excited as I am about this trip. Why? Because while Buzz Aldrin clearly passed muster regarding astronaut-hood, I really don’t know how credible he is regarding the specifics of space exploration. But here’s the thing–I don’t care. His credibility, for me, comes from the fact that he went. And having went, he recommends going farther. Imagine my elation then, being one source into this paper and already having one reassurance that 2023 will be the year of the Red Planet. Nice!
****
Aldrin, Buzz. “The Call of Mars.” The New York Times. (June 14, 2013 Friday): 734 words.
Part 1 – I’m Moving to Mars in 2022
Of course, that it takes 9-months to get there means I won’t actually arrive until 2023. The fact remains, I’m going. Back in 2011 Mars One announced its purpose. The Mars One home page reads, “The Mars One Foundation is a not-for-profit organization that will establish a permanent human settlement on Mars in 2023.” As far as a mission statement or S.M.A.R.T. goal, they don’t get much better or simpler than that. Precisely that kind of focus will ensure achievement of the mission.
For me, the idea became a reality when I first heard the quote, “What is possible is done; what is impossible will be done.” The quote is diluted enough to not really be associated with any one person, and more important than who said it is the idea it expresses–that being, everything is first an idea, even if only an impossible idea. Growing up in the 20th century surrounded by pop culture that included “Star Wars” and “Star Trek,” it is more than clear that humans as a group believe we’ll be zipping around the universe in the future. What I didn’t expect, but have now come to believe, is that it will begin during my lifetime…and could be me.
Placing all my fever-pitched excitement aside, I can’t deny that there is a nagging voice in my head that says, “Nobody is going anywhere.” Now Mars-One assures me that the reasons they are going to succeed include all the technology already exists, they’re eliminating the return trip (which was probably the single largest hindrance to past Mars plans), and they will be able to privately fund the project by giving the people what they want—a front row seat to the whole thing via some amalgamation of reality TV programming. This all still sounded crazy to me until they pointed out the ad revenue the last Olympics generated was nearly enough to fund this mission. And that was a recurring entertainment event. Settling humankind on Mars will be a first-time-ever event, and will change the nature of human existence.
Part 2 Monday…
Joy Incarnate
No doubt durable, the brown, rubber coated metal picnic table was exploding with sandwich ingredients: two loaves of bread, two packages of ham, two packages turkey, one package of pepper jack cheese, one package gouda, one bottle of mayonnaise, and one bottle mustard. Present also were the sides to include individual bags of chips, apples and oranges; and dessert–nutty bars. Lastly there were sandwich bags. All this was resting amidst coolers filled with beer and dinner, a couple camp stoves, their personal cookware, and some French presses lazily soiled with the morning’s coffee grounds.
As socially graceful as possible they all took turns preparing their lunches that they would then carry in various forms of Camelback backpacks. Each person’s pack matched their personality. The veteran’s was camouflage, the ladies’, trim. The photographer’s had pockets large enough for a professional quality camera; the different guy used a modern word for fanny pack.
Once packed, the group packed the unused food in the cars, and grabbed the morning’s trash bags. Ah, bears. The probably unnecessary precaution justified itself through the addition of the slight thrill of danger. That and being prepared is never a bad thing.
The hike now well under way, storm clouds populated the distant horizon. The group pressed onward. The intervals between the unseen lighting’s thunderclaps decreased as the distance they traveled above the tree line increased. A light sprinkle had not yet become annoying as they began to notice most of the blue sky had become shades of grey.
One party became two.
As those with significant others present headed back down, the alone-and-unafraid pressed their luck.
Unifying them all was a hunger. Friend helped friend as they unzipped each other’s packs and grabbed the sandwiches. Was it the rain? Was it the hiking? Was it the company? Whatever it was, they had never tasted as good a sandwich as at that moment. And never had smiles spread so quickly.
Upon finishing their chocolaty peanut butter goodness, the two groups discovered they weren’t so far apart after all. The clouds parted and the sun’s return was interpreted only as it should have been—the punctuation to the joy incarnate they knew to be lunch on the trail.
Three Priceless Quarters
One wake up. That’s all that stood between him and the mountains. Having just arrived home from work, he decided to go ahead and bring the necessary gear stored in the garage into the house. Man, he hadn’t used his blue Kelty external frame pack for years. Lifting it off the bottom shelf of the tall grey wooden shop-cabinet in the garage, he was immediately awestruck by how familiar the metal felt within his hand. The memories came rushing back.
The outermost flap pocket was bulging with a several yellow trash bags which doubled as poor-man rain covers for the pack when necessary. His very own four season, dual door, dual vestibule Eureka K2 XT tent finally rendered those unnecessary. He put them aside.
Curiosity took over. He wondered if the pack still had the devotional and music books from scouting days. Yup.
What other treasures did the pack contain? Muskol–the best insect repellent available. Ah, deet. He chuckled to himself as he remembered that he used to derive great pleasure from reading other brand’s deet percentages knowing they had only puny, laughable amounts of deet. Yes, Muskol was the best ever, and it was his.
What else… Oh, here’s something: a Ziploc bag filled with materials for a homemade first-aid kit. What’s this? Three quarters. “Wow,” he startled himself not realizing he exclaimed that out loud. It all came rushing back. His scout leaders always recommended carrying a few quarters in case a pay phone was needed. Those quarters had been in that bag, in that pack for over 15 years. Those three quarters exemplified the two most eloquent, powerful words he’d ever heard: Be prepared.
Happy Labor Day.
Origins of the Unfamiliar Camera Shudder
The truth? Well, no one ever seemed to want to know the truth. Just the same, the truth was his great-great grandpa was the culprit. Having never met him, of course, he only had heard stories. The man’s name was Pete. In fact, he was named after his great-great grandpa. Apparently this Pete was quite the guy. Loved by everyone; despised by no one.
Herein begins the tale.
Thinning, fine white hair revealed Pete’s old age. A welcoming smile betrayed his young heart. And a never satisfied quest for practical jokes kept him busy even after he was too brittle to work on the family farm.
They say great-great grandpa Pete really was a jokester. He was always catching everyone off-guard, and even though his victims always eventually got over it, his pranks were usually very inappropriate. The legends account for this by telling of his ridiculously strong character. While inappropriate, his making-fun was meticulously timed and delivered. One could only imagine, then, how well-planned Pete’s crowning gag must have been.
It was a large family reunion. Not just cousins, but second cousins, third cousins, and fourth cousins thrice removed were invited and made their appearance. With a guest list that large, quite a few dignitaries and very wealthy people were in attendance. Great-great grandpa Pete would have been banking on this.
On the guest list, a fairly distant relation was former president Rutherford B. Hayes and his wife “lemonade” Lucy, known (without justification) for her role in the temperance movement. To Pete, they were Uncle Rutherford and Aunt Lucy.
It was a warm sunny day in June. June 25, 1889, to be exact. Pete had known the president and his wife for some time. Rutherford and Lucy were just a bit too–let’s say proper–for practical jokes. Just the same, Pete had seen in Rutherford’s eyes something of a sparkle each time he witnessed one of Pete’s masterpieces.
Now, as everyone knows, former Presidents are not to be trifled with. Despite not occupying the position anymore, they are still well-connected to all the right people. Pete would have known this too. Apparently he didn’t care. He had chosen his course, and on that fateful day nothing was going to stop him.
As the first of Pete’s family trickled in, he encouraged the required small talk by talking about his new camera. This camera, he said, was not unlike other cameras of the day, except in one feature. His camera had a timed shutter. He really wanted this affair to be a family only event, and so he didn’t want to hire a professional photographer. He also began spreading that he wanted the first picture taken that day to be a photograph of everyone there.
As the trickle of guests became a raging rapid, so did the story of Pete’s camera. Soon everyone was anxiously awaiting picture time. All in attendance naturally assumed Pete would be the one to press the button then run to his spot in the 4.75 seconds before the shutter opened.
One can only imagine the surprise, then, when ol’ Pete announced to a gathering of 250 of his family members that he was going to give the honor to his “favorite Aunt-who-was-also-a-first-lady” Lucy Hayes. Not being one to regularly indulge in the frivolities and vices of life, the story has it that Lucy succumbed just this once and accepted. They say Pete had a curious twinkle in his eye as he was explaining the task to her.
Straightening up as he finished, he calmly took his place among those about to be photographed.
Trembling with nervous excitement Lucy began to sense the crowd’s growing impatience. She knew she must get it right the first time. She knew that if Pete had to come back and help her one more time, the most distant relatives–already drunk she noticed–would just leave the formation.
The pressure became unbearable and as she pressed the button and began to walk briskly back to her spot, a loud report was heard and as she shuddered in fright, she looked to Pete for reassurance that she didn’t make a mistake. In an instant, Pete tossed her a bottle of whiskey which she caught out of instinct. Turning, she realized she was front and center, looking guilty and holding the substance that she had fought her entire adult life to ban as the shutter opened. A moment later, we’re told that everyone else fell over laughing as they realized Pete had struck again. Everyone but Uncle Rutherford. He was holding his dear beloved who appeared to have fainted. Within the hour she was pronounced dead.
Pete had finally done it. He had finally picked on the wrong person, at the wrong time. By the end of the day, despite former-President Hayes’ insistence that the incident be kept a family matter, word had spread. Naturally, like all stories, the listener heard what they wanted to hear. Couple this with Rutherford demanding Pete hand over the single piece of evidence that proved it was all about Lucy’s obnoxious stance on liquor, and the story really scrambled to build a foundation. In the end, the story that spread throughout the country was that Lucy died because she used an unfamiliar camera to take the picture at the family reunion.
While you may never have heard of great-great grandpa Pete, or Lucy Hayes, you surely have experienced the result of this rumor. Even to this day, when relatives handle camera’s unfamiliar to them, they do so with great trepidation. They cannot shake the fear that something terrible may happen as they take the picture. Little do they know that it wasn’t the use of an unfamiliar camera that killed Lucy, but irrational shame.
At least that’s what I tell myself to explain why we’re so afraid of other people’s cameras at family functions. Can you explain it?
The Third Most Important Day
Confused, this was the first time he could remember seeing anything other than milk in a one gallon jug. He eyed the waitress suspiciously. Licking his lips at the mention of homemade root beer, he believed the milk jug proved its homemade claim while simultaneously casting a shadow of doubt regarding the health code. The root beer was fantastic.
Hannibal, MO is where he found himself. Why? Who can remember such things? Besides the root beer, he remembered hearing about Mark Twain. He has yet to meet a man who can forget about Mark Twain once they become aware of him. He also remembered his parents being at the restaurant, so he knew it wasn’t a boy scout trip–the main reason he would’ve been in Missouri.
Ahh, boy scouts. Some of the happiest moments of his childhood occurred because of the boy scouts. Almost every boy scout event etched at least one memory into his mind. Those green Eureka Alpine tents. At first, his fourth grade hands had trouble setting them up, but the older boys gladly taught him to work smarter not harder. Building fires, hiking, sleeping out under the stars, canoeing–all things he would’ve never done if it hadn’t been for troop 428.
Boy Scouts. That was a long time ago. As he grew to be an older teen, he wanted to own more gear himself. Coincidentally, his family was on vacation in Wyoming, on a ranch, where he first laid eyes on a Cabela’s master catalog. Not knowing the treasure he’d stumbled upon, he fumbled through the pages at first. It was the tent section that caused him to slow down. And slow down he did. Reading the description of the 3-person, 4-season, dual door, dual vestibule Eureka Summit XT, he could hardly contain himself. And for only $229! Unfortunately, even though a second trip to Wyoming from Kansas required a drive through Sydney, Nebraska where the flagship showroom store was located, and even though they stopped and it was near his summer birthday, his mother wasn’t having it. (Whether his father would’ve bought it is another issue. Let’s just say he learned too late in life that the man had a harm time saying ‘no’.) While crushed, the damage was temporary as he was at least happy to be heading back to the Cheyenne River Ranch.
The chance to regularly shop in a Cabela’s came into his life once again with the advent of the Kansas Speedway in 2001. This brought Cabela’s, the #1 tourist attraction in Kansas, to his home town. No more ordering from the catalog. But at this point the trouble was that he was in college and college had landed him back in NE Missouri on the Mississippi, near Mark Twain’s ol’ stomping grounds. Shopping in a Cabela’s was becoming a fantasy that was just too good to be true.
I’m happy to report the wait is over. Today, August 15th, 2013, not one, but two Cabela’s locations are opening in the Denver Metro area at 10:30 am. He moved to Denver on a whim, a decision rooted in passion. Some might foolishly count this turn of events as coincidence. He knows it to be fate. Mark Twain said, “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” He now knows the third most important day in your life is the day you learn someone loves you enough to not give up on you. For him, that day is today. Long live Cabela’s!!
How Long Until We Learn? 12 Years? 20 Years? Never?
“Does everyone understand?” the professor asked. She just finished explaining a nuance regarding citations in academic writing. “Once more then, common knowledge doesn’t need to be cited, but other than that, it’s best to cite the source of your material. For example, that Pearl Harbor was attacked on December…9th..?” Snickers from the class. “…was it the 9th?” she begged for help.
“7th,” he spoke up. “December 7th.”
“That’s right, thank you. Now you all know that I don’t ‘do’ dates very well,” she joked.
“And that you don’t love your country,” he remarked half-joking, but seeking a status increase in his classmate’s eyes as well.
“Haha. Yes, apparently that too,” she laughed, genuinely appreciating the comment.
His helmet on and secure, he slowly backed the motorcycle out of its parking spot as he prepared to head home from class. Recognizing that a motorcyclist’s every movement is exposed, he concentrated on making his scan for obstacles look as cool as possible.
Finally, he was on the road. Warm air, no seat belt; he was one with the machine. “This will never get old,” he thought to himself. Seeing brake lights in front of him he looked up to see yellow become red. Downshifting, he slowed to a stop. The car in front of him had a sticker that caught his attention. It simply read, “9-11-01.” He couldn’t place the date. Adam and Eve themselves couldn’t describe the shame he felt as he realized his mistake. How many times did it have to happen until he learned that pride comes before the fall? Less than 10 minutes after enjoying a good laugh at the professors expense for not remembering the date Pearl Harbor was attacked, he didn’t recognize a sticker whose purpose was to help us never forget the events of September 11, 2001.
Frustrated he rode the rest of the way home analyzing how this could have happened. Suddenly, an interesting thought: “Wow. It has been 12 years. I wonder how everyone felt in 1953 about Pearl Harbor, compared to how we feel now about 9/11. I always hear about how great the 50s were… Will people in 2073 look back and romanticize this decade too?” It seemed unlikely.
**
Insecurity. Individuals feel it, nations feel it. In either case, it is a problem that should be stomped out as ferociously as possible. The attack on 9/11 spoke to life’s uncertainty. How long are we going to pretend that this was new information? No living thing is free from a risk of dying. Why are we still insecure?
Given the occasion to ‘get the jump’ on the yearly discussion, I don’t mind taking the first stab. We’re still insecure because we don’t understand where security comes from.
Here’s the situation as I see it: After taking until the mid-1980s to repress Vietnam’s memory, we built a military of overwhelming strength. The end of the 80s saw the end of The Cold War. Less than a few years later, we literally obliterated Iraq’s military during Gulf War One. (Our pilots were shooting down Iraqi pilots before they could retract their landing gear on takeoff.) This victory made it impossible to resist feeling invulnerable.
The trouble, however, was that the “we” that became invulnerable included the greatest generation. By 9/11, “we” no longer included the greatest generation or their experience-based (vs secondhand) knowledge and wisdom. What did they know that would have helped us? What might we have learned from existing with them, rather than reading about them? What information do we need to internalize so we can rid ourselves of the wasting disease called insecurity?
Security comes from within.
It won’t come from Obama. It wouldn’t have come from Romney. It won’t come from Clinton or Christie.
Whether Hippocrates ever intended his paraphrased oath to be applied by everyone is inconsequential. “Do no knowing harm.” That goes for everyone. All the time. Whether at work or at play. In your personal life, in your professional life.
Is life complicated? Yes. Has our government acted honorably all the time? No. Do people capitalize on every opportunity to take advantage of each other? Yes. These questions and answers do not paint a pretty picture. So what. Not one of them has any bearing on the decision you are about to make right now.
The only way to overcome this problem is to stop doing knowing harm. Today. No matter who is telling you, “It’s okay.” Whatever consequence you fear will happen if you disobey, you must risk it. Past mistakes are irrelevant. The rest of the planet is longing for Americans to wisely use the power we hold. You know what I’m talking about. You can’t feign ignorance any longer.
I need your help. The only way to get there is together.
Conservative’s Reason
“Chopper down,” the radio sputtered. This was a first. In the worst way. After all, this was supposed to be an ordinary mission. There was no added danger this night. There certainly was no reason to have expected this.
“We have to go get them! I’ll start running the ‘Before Takeoff Checklist,” the flight engineer suggested excitedly. This was difficult to stomach. There are some guys who just want to get into the ‘action’. He was one of those guys. I, on the other hand, was not. I remember my uncle, who was in the Navy, describing how once a helicopter caught fire as it landed on the ship. He recounted how so many guys ran towards the fire. A Sunday stroll was the pace he chose. That always stuck with me.
“Sir, do you want me to let them know the helicopter needs to be destroyed once everyone is clear?” asked the aircraft commander. The unit commander was on board this particular mission. He sometimes sat in the back of the helicopter to make sure he didn’t lose touch with what’s really going on as he only watches the missions on a screen most other days. Again, I was shocked. Wow. This is getting real, really fast.
The flight engineer pushed again for achieving ‘hero status’ in one mission, so finally I addressed him. “Look, we don’t even know what happened. If they were shot down, it probably isn’t the smartest thing to go fly into range of that weapon, is it?”
Confusion like this was relatively rare. But as pilots have a knack for analyzing past mistakes to avoid making them again, we knew what to do. We called it the ‘conservative response rule.’ This was a helpful tool to use in cases of disagreement among the crew. Basically, past aircraft mishaps revealed that when there is disagreement, the more conservative option voiced should be followed until more data can be gathered.
In the above example, one crew-member wanted to fly, the other wanted to wait. The more conservative idea was to wait, therefore we waited. Waited only until more information was available.
That’s the key to this rule. Even the name ‘conservative response rule’, brings to mind always doing the conservative thing, but that’s a severe misunderstanding which can hamstring entire missions. There are times during flights that being aggressive and daring is the right decision. The point of this rule is to make sure everyone is in agreement that selfless bravery is called for. If there is not agreement, stick to the conservative course of action until more information is available.
What’s the practical application to grounded life? Outdoor activities come to mind. How many times have we been with friends and disagreement shows up about what to do next? Say, climbing a mountain as a storm is brewing. Some want to continue, because they say the storm will surely pass. Others suggest turning back. Friendships have been lost over such situations.
As for me, I say stick with the pilots. Turn back or at least wait a while to see how the storm develops. Dead aircrew are longing for you to learn from their mistakes.
Unlike other ‘lessons learned’, this one has a specific audience. Within each of our friend groups, there are those who are natural leaders. If this is you, next time there is disagreement, put this rule to good use. Besides enhancing your status (rightfully so), it just might keep people and relationships intact.
Blog. How Else Will You Learn What You Like?
Hi there! My name is Pete Peterson. I’m a 22 year old college dropout and have been blogging for a week now. I’m so excited because I already have 15 followers, and none of them are my family or previous friends. How cool is that?
I guess I should have known that people would follow my blog. I write well and my posts are funny, smart, clever, dramatic, creative, and most importantly they display–albeit sometimes unconsciously–my desire to make money blogging.
I guess this last trait is really the one that has captured most of my follower’s attention. I never would have believed how many people know how to make money blogging. The best part is that they are very helpful. They’re willing to almost give away the secret. I know better though, than to expect anyone to give away their golden goose. It does make sense, then, that they would require a nominal fee to learn the really good stuff. I’m happy to pay it because I really do want to make money blogging.
We’re all the same, my followers and I. That’s how I learned that I love to travel. All of my willing-to-teach-others-how-to-make-money-blogging followers love to travel. Truthfully, I have never left the home town I grew up in, which is just outside Big City, USA. Just the same, I figure if all my followers love to travel, I must love to travel.
I can imagine it now. Endless beaches against a backdrop of snowcapped mountains. Large trees all around with even larger leaves. There’s probably fit young women at these locations as well. With no crummy 9-5 job to worry about, I could finally start wearing my 80s style tank tops every day, or maybe I’d wear no shirt at all. I’d probably choose to wear sunglasses most of the time, even if it didn’t make sense. I think I’d also begin to post pictures of myself too. I’d make sure to always have water in the background somewhere. I think that would be classy. Yep, I’m going to love traveling.
It’s exciting, I’ll tell you that. It’s so exciting, in fact, that I’d like to invite you to follow my blog. Do you love to travel? Do you know how to make money blogging? Then follow me! The only way to get there is together.
Captain’s Log 