It’s Christmas, 2017.
Since last Christmas we, as a nation, have been through and seen a lot. While not getting into specifics, I did not expect in my lifetime to see our society, our culture, go as far backwards as we have recently. We have turned our backs on expertise, on intellectualism, on science, and even in many cases on hope. We have embraced the acceptance of low information. Of deciding that being able to search something on our phone, read a headline, or find the first online post that we agree with, is the equivalent of years of schooling and decades of practical experience. That my opinion, based on hearsay and a few minutes of uneducated research, is equal to your knowledge build on a lifetime.
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Earlier this year I decided that I wasn’t happy with my educational background. I barely got out of the University of North Dakota with a degree. I had recently completed a pair of associate’s degrees via the Air Force, but it still wasn’t enough. Despite my current career not requiring it, I felt that I owed my employer, my family, and myself to try to improve my knowledge base and skillset. I still had a year of G.I. Bill money, plus Tuition Assistance from the North Dakota National Guard that could be applied to a Masters program in state. At first I applied to UND’s Space Studies, but that barely getting out of there the first time, plus a lack of recent college experience, hurt my chances. On the recommendation of my commanding officer, I applied to the University of Mary, a private school in Bismarck, North Dakota, and was accepted into the Masters of Public Administration Program. Given my military experience, an MPA might come in handy in the future. And hopefully, I might still be able to get into a Space Studies program as well. Spending my 50’s working in the space industry, even in some small corner of it, would be okay with me.
But I think the biggest reason I wanted to go back to school was cause I didn’t really feel like I had finished properly the first time. I felt I could have, and should have, done better. Seeing what was happening around me in the nation, the lack of respect given to education and to even the idea of lifelong learning, that was also a spark. I wanted to continue to be a lifelong learner. I don’t know what difference another degree will make to the world, to my career and to my family. Hopefully it will have an impact on what I contribute to the world, to what I will eventually leave behind.
Even if this and future learning doesn’t change anything in the world, however, it will make a world of difference to me.
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On December 21, 1968, NASA’s Apollo 8 lifted off from Florida, the inaugural launch from Kennedy Space Center. It was also the first crewed launch of the Saturn 5 rocket, the monster of Cold War Tech that broke the solar system open to human exploration. The most powerful lift vehicle to that point, the Saturn blasted off at 0751 Eastern Time, bound for the Moon. A series of delays with the Lunar Lander had created a situation where Apollo 8’s original mission, testing of the LEM in Earth Orbit, would not be possible. But the rocket was ready, the Command Module was ready, and in one of the most important leaps of imagination to come out of that decade (and perhaps human existence) NASA decided that they were ready for a lunar flight.
Frank Borman, James Lovell, and William Anders entered lunar orbit on Christmas Eve, and took imagery that forever changed our point of view about our own home. “Earthrise” is mentioned as a contender for the most important photograph of all time. We saw, for the first time, our small, fragile blue, green, and white world, handing fragile in the voice. We saw the true significance of what that world represented. The only place known in the entire universe to harbor life. The only place that we knew of capable of providing humanity with a safe place to call home.
1968 had been a traumatic year for our nation, and our planet. Vietnam was in full swing. Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., had been assassinated. Racial and political violence tore across the country, and the level of uncertainty about our future as a republic was higher than at any point since the Civil War.
“Earthrise”, and the live television broadcast from lunar orbit where the crew read creation from the biblical book of Genesis, provided a “pause” button for the self-imposed trauma of the year. One ordinary citizen sent a telegram to Borman after the mission, simply stating, “Thank you, Apollo 8. You saved 1968.”
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2017 has seen the USA stuck in its 16th year of continuous war since October of 2001. We have been embroiled in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and dozens of other nations fighting a war that by definition can never, ever be won with military force. We are on edge about the threat from North Korea, and a long forgotten (at least here in the USA) war that technically never ended 64 years ago. Our government may be seriously considering a first strike on a nuclear power, an act that could literally spark a regional, if not global, nuclear war. Our foreign policy is in tatters; the respect for the United States that used to be so evident amongst our peers is nowhere to be seen. We talk willingly of building walls, of isolationism, of ideals and policies that, more than once, have led the world to the brink of ruin.
At home, we have seen racial strife and injustice proliferate. White nationalists once again out in the open, proclaiming racial supremacy and advocating closing our borders to all those who are not as pure as they are. Immigrants are targeted for discrimination. Religious affiliation, in thinking reminiscent of the Spanish Inquisition, has become a primary method of sorting, and beware if you do not worship the same way your neighbor does.
The culture of sexual harassment and abuse that has long been tolerated, if not advocated for, amongst men has exploded into the headlines lately. Men worthy of prosecution, and men guilty of making a mistake, have been brought down in the newfound spotlight of judgment. Others, who have openly bragged about their abuse, remain in positions of power.
It has been a year unlike any seen since the 1960’s and early 1970’s. It has been a year that screams, that cries, that begs to be “saved.”
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When President Trump took power, I am the first to admit that I feared for the soul of our nation. I dreaded what might come to pass; the turning away from ideals of liberty, equality and freedom for all members of the world. I feared the embrace of a darker place.
And yet I had hope. Hope that this man, who despite his numerous failures in business, bragged about how he could build a great deal of big, fabulous things. He could build, he could deal, perhaps, he could inspire.
I had hope for a national “Moonshot”, a call to arms that we once again aspire to do great things. To reach for the Moon, to reach for the stars, to spread our wings. Even if this POTUS didn’t have interstellar aspirations, surely his terrestrial building experience would be good for infrastructure down here on the surface. Maybe a “Moonshot” for energy? I concerted national effort to crack fusion? And to double down on his predecessors bets on green energy? There are millions of jobs and hundreds of billions of dollars to be had in going carbon free, after all. Or perhaps simply fix our roads, our bridges, and our water pipes? Certainly a worthy goal of a first administration? I figured it might take his first year, especially since he was prone to impulsive Tweets and attacks on anyone he perceived threatened him, but there must be something coming.
Yesterday we got it, and sadly, painfully, we saw where the “Moonshot” was headed this year. The greatest reduction of taxes for the wealthy this nation has ever seen. There would be no great things from our nation. No great leadership, no great vision. We would not “do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”
We would instead steal from our own coffers to pad our pockets.
There would be not great act, no great effort, to save 2017.
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Over the last two years, the word “snowflake” has been stolen, corrupted from its original meaning and turned into a derogatory term. This has bothered me, and not because I have been called a snowflake on numerous occasions.
What is a snowflake? One of 35 forms of crystalline shapes with limitless detailed variety in their structure. The ultimate expression of infinite diversity. They fall from the sky with delicate grace, looking as if they could fracture and dissolve with ease. And yet when combined with their brethren, they can form a blizzard, and bury even the hardiest soul in a mountain of heavy powder than can collapse the toughest building like it was kindling. And, when all those snowflakes do eventually melt, what do they become?
The most powerful force on the planet – water. There is no stopping water in its most raging forms. Humanity cannot tame it completely.
No, being called a snowflake should not be a put-down. Not when the snowflake is one of the most impressive, and powerful, objects in all of nature.
It should be the highest compliment.
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2018 is right around the corner.
I still dare to hope for that goal to be set, the nation to join together in a desire the do great things.
I am still looking for that Moonshot. And I still dream that we will be what we have always claimed to aspire to be.
If that makes me snowflake, so be it. Winter is here, and soon the spring melt will arrive, and with luck, wash this all away.