Lessons from NASA

Stennis Space Center, Mississippi

If you’ve ever had the privilege of eating at my mother’s table, you understand why I am willing to drive from Houston to St. Petersburg a scant two weeks after making the drive the other direction.

This time, it’s just Riley and me, cruising along the Gulf Coast.  Without following the big rig, I find myself paying more attention.  I’m sure the other drivers on the road are pleased with that, but the mind does wander as one drives along Interstate 10 through Texas, Louisiana and into Mississippi.  

We’ve just entered Mississippi, advertised as "the birthplace of music," when Riley makes herself known in the backseat.  Although she is only 5 months old, traveling with her is like hitting the road with a faithful stuffed animal.  Not a peep for mile after mile.  As we passed the state line, she sat up and gave me a head nod that let me know it was time to stretch her legs.

I pulled into the rest stop/welcome center that I spotted from the I-10.  Actually, what caught my eye was what I thought was a giant jungle gym perched on cement pillars.  On closer inspection, I learned that this was no children’s playground.  It was the Lunar Lander that was used in the 1960’s as a trainer by the Apollo astronauts in preparation for their moon missions.  I had stumbled into the NASA Stennis Space Center, which was originally called Mississippi Test Facility.

The Lunar Lander played an important role in the Apollo program, and therefore, in the imaginations of all of us lucky enough to grow up during NASA’s golden years. From this type of vehicle, Neil Armstrong proclaimed, “The Eagle has landed” as he and Buzz Aldrin became the first humans to touch down on the moon’s surface.

Man on the Moon

It was another Lunar Lander, called “Aquarius” that became a life-saving pod for the Apollo 13 astronauts.  Those astronauts were Jim Lovell, Fred Haise, and Jack Swigert.

As I stood pondering the scientific expertise that went into the creation of such an important vehicle, I was reminded of a dark spot in my own educational history.  In 1979, I was selected to attend a journalism camp in Denver with budding high school journalists from all over Colorado.  When we arrived, the organizers excitedly told us they had a special surprise for us.  Astronaut Jack Swigert (a Coloradoan) was coming to speak to us and we would have the opportunity to ask him questions.  

Truthfully, I don’t remember what I thought before I went in to hear him speak.  I probably had a vague idea about Apollo 13, but remember, this was years before Tom Hanks and Kevin Bacon made the mission famous again in the Hollywood version of “Apollo 13.”  

The crew of Apollo 13

I remember there were about 30 of us in the room.  Astronaut Swigert spoke for about 20 minutes, then said he would take questions.  There was dead silence. Not one person asked a question.  Not one.  I felt embarrassed for myself, and for Col. Swigert, as he stood there trying to coax a question out of us.  It didn’t happen. We were too ignorant and unprepared to come up with even a “how did it feel?” the standard lazy journalist question.

I’ve thought of that day so many times over the years.  I always wanted to apologize to him.  He was a truly great American and deserved better than a room full of students more worried about their social lives than a man who risked his life in quest of knowledge.  

Astronaut Swigert

Col. Swigert went on to become a U.S. Congressman from Colorado, but in 1984, shortly after he was elected, he died of cancer. In addition to an apology, I owe him a debt of gratitude.  That day had a tremendous impact on my journalism career.  I never again went to an interview unprepared.  

The Town that Mickey Built

Celebration, FL (taken with my cool Panorama option on my iPhone)

Everybody is familiar with Disney Land, Disney World, and Epcot, but did you know that in the '90s Disney built a town?  It's called Celebration and it's just south of the gates to Central Florida's Magic Kingdom.

Downtown Celebration

The idea was to build a master-planned community with the perfection of the Disney product.  The style is early 20th century.  According to Zillow.com, which measures real estate value, housing prices run from condos for $200,000 to single family homes in the millions.

Porches grace most of the single family homes.

  The community has a golf course, lots of parks, and churches (the Sunday evening Catholic Mass is contemporary, and it ROCKS...) in addition to its downtown area.  Stetson University also has a campus within the confines of the community.  You won't find gas stations or grocery stores, but you will find a bakery for dogs (Riley's favorite haunt).

At first glance, a visitor might think of that movie, "The Stepford Wives."  Everything IS pretty orderly. I was reminded of the play, "Our Town" by Thornton Wilder.  This is a place where people walk to go out to dinner and they talk to their neighbors.  People are genuinely friendly here.  Whether you're in line at the post office or the theatre, the locals will engage in conversation.

Post Office

Theatre

It's not all perfect, however. On a recent trip we noticed a marked change in downtown once the high school lets out for the day.  Hoards of teens make their way, on skateboards, to the brick paved streets of downtown Celebration.  It quickly puts a damper on strolling along tree-lined streets wishing for a bygone era.  The facade may change, but the problems of modern communities remain the same.

Never fear, however.  Unlike "Our Town" of Thorton's imagination, Disney Imagineers were savvy enough to include a Starbucks: it's the anecdote for anything that ails you.

Don't even think about the perfect town without a Starbucks.

Spinning Class: No Politicians Allowed

I joined the YMCA in a working class neighborhood of Osceola County here in Central Florida.  The Y is nestled between a local elementary school and the middle and high school on a quiet side street.  It’s away from the hustle and bustle of vacation revelers.  On any given morning, as I make my way into the parking lot, children from the local school walk over as a class in one straight line to get their swimming lessons.  For many of these children, this is their big chance to learn the lifelong skill of swimming.  Not only is it fun, but this generation has seen its physical education time dwindle. This is a chance to move.  

The majority of these children get free breakfast and free lunch at school.  For the time they are in the pool, they are free to float, dive, and splash: to be children without a care in the world.

Once inside the Y, I walk to the spinning class led by Patricia.  Patricia is from Bogota, Columbia.  At 5 feet, she is has the energy and enthusiasm of Minnie Mouse, and the drive and determination of a world-class Drill Sergeant.  In the class, I am the only gringo.  Patricia likes to go around the room and holler out country names to find out where people originated.  On this day, we represent Puerto Rico, Cuba, Brazil, and Portugal.  

Perhaps because I have been bombarded by political ads for the past few months, I suddenly realize I am surrounded by a political trifecta: they are women, they are Soccer Moms, and, most importantly this year, they are Latinas.  I chuckle to myself because there are two empty bikes in front of me.  I imagine Mitt on one and Barack on the other.  They’ll have to pedal hard to keep up with these women to make their promises of a better tomorrow.  This is NOT the spin of politics.

Before class, conversation was about the teenagers at home who wouldn’t get out of bed to come to the Y.  One was worried about a college-age daughter who couldn’t find a job worthy of her education.  Another woman worried that her job might go away in this unstable economy.  These are the concerns of any woman, any town, any color, in America.  We need not be categorized by pollsters.  We all want the same thing: a healthy country, safe from terrorism, in which we can be proud.  

Life in the Shadow of the Mouse

Dateline--Orlando-ish, Florida....

I had a serendipitous thought the other day as I was driving down Highway 192 in Kissimmee, Florida.  There are two completely different Floridas.  

I noticed a year ago when I told people we were headed for Florida, there was often a pregnant pause, followed by..."oh, that's nice..." in a lukewarm sort of way.  Sometimes people would say, "Really? Florida?? Are you sure?"  I couldn't understand it.  To me, Florida was building sand castles with my girls on white sandy beaches, shelling on Sanibel Island, sailing and fishing (read: barfing) in the Gulf of Mexico. That's My Florida.

The second "Other" Florida brings me back to my Eureka! moment.  It's the Florida most people see.  It's the world of concrete and retention ponds that grew like Kudzu around the borders of Disney.  It's no wonder people were surprised when I said I love Florida.  

I snapped some pictures of that other Florida to prove my point.  I didn't search far to find examples:

The Gator Inn

Nothing says comfort and elegance like "The Gator Inn."  Why would they think people would find this image restful?

If you drive North on Highway 192, you will find the Magic Kingdom.  Head South, and you can find a million different ways to spend your money...

Shopping...maybe a Harry Potter wanna be?

Orlando used to be an Orange Grove.

Disney Gift Outlet...

Starting at $24, see Florida from the air

So I get it now.  If you have traveled to Florida, but never ventured out of the Orlando area, you've seen the "Other" Florida.  While it may be "the happiest place on earth," it isn't, by any stretch of the imagination, the most beautiful.

Sempre Gumby

it’s hard to write a blog called “No Strings Attached” when you are busy trying to grow roots.  When we left California five months ago, our plan was to mosey across the country and end up in the Tampa area.  Once there, we hoped to find a house and a community to call home.  We almost did it.

When  I first married Larry, he taught me the motto he lives by, thanks to the U.S. Marines and pop culture: “Sempre Gumby.” Translation: Ever Flexible.  That saying has come in handy, because over the past few months, we have hit road blocks at every turn.  

The first block was that it’s darn near impossible to get homeowner’s insurance in Florida.  If you are new to the state, all that’s available is the administratively bloated, self-serving, State-run “Citizen’s Insurance.” They call it “Insurance of Last Resort.” I call it “All that’s Available.”

I called our insurance company, USAA, which prides itself on serving members of the  military. I asked them how they can fail to offer homeowner’s insurance to a combat Veteran.  They have to answer to shareholders, the representative said.  USAA doesn’t mention that in their ads. What’s more laughable is that USAA’s headquarters is in Tampa. 

A series of other real estate snafus, along with the realization that living near Southwest’s headquarters would be more financially beneficial than the small domicile of Orlando, brought us to a tough decision. We decided to leave my parents and all the wonderful people and culture here in Central Florida, and move to Dallas, Texas. Sempre Gumby.

Texas is great.  I am related to half the state and I look forward to seeing my family on a more regular basis.  A little piece of my heart will remain behind in Tampa, but we are looking forward to hitting the road again and finding more adventure down the road.

Oh, there’s just one more thing...because we were planning to close on a house on August 29, we got a puppy.  Riley is a Golden Doodle and is now 13 weeks old.  Time will tell if she will like traveling as much as we do...

Food for Thought

As I've looked back over my blog, I realized it reads more like a regional food review than anything else.  I am happy to report that if you get off the crumbling interstate system when traveling across this great country of ours, there's still plenty of regional flair and flavor.  The food is one of the things I love best about Tampa.  There are a plethora of great ethnic restaurants to match the population.

I am a coffee drinker. As I sit writing this, I am sucking down Starbucks.  And while I love, love, love my Grande Non-Fat Latte, there is nothing in this world to compare to a properly made Cafe con Leche. Nothing.  There are secrets to the perfect cup of joe that is famous in Tampa  and Miami.  First, start with full-bodied expresso beans.  Cafe Bustelo is one of the famous brands.  Next, steam whole milk.  I made the mistake of asking if I could have my cafe con leche with skim milk.  The waitress at the restaurant made a face like she didn't understand me.  When I repeated my request, she scrunched up her face as if she were fighting off dry-heaves.  I got whole milk.  After they steam the milk, they put regular old white sugar in it until it's just sweet enough.  You can't use stevia, equal, splenda, raw sugar or any other substitute (same response as above).  To the table comes a cappuccino-size cup and saucer filled with sweet milk and a separate little pitcher of expresso.  Pour the expresso into the milk to the desired strength, and voila! So good.

Cuban food, for me, is comfort food.  My daughters grew up eating it.  One of my favorite restaurants in Tampa is a little place called Arco Iris on Columbus St. On a recent visit I had ropa vieja (which is kind of like a pot roast) and yellow rice and black beans.  Larry had roast pork that is so tender and full of flavor.  If you have room, you can get flan for dessert, but why bother when cafe con leche is on the menu...

Baseball and Other Essentials of Life

Although we originally planned to tour U.S. presidential libraries as we traveled across the country, it turned out we were drawn to Major League Baseball.  After Arizona’s fan-friendly stadium, we went to downtown St. Louis to see the Cardinals play in their new ballpark.  The view was beautiful.  From our seats, I could see the Arch, the old courthouse where the Dred Scott citizen case was heard before it went to the Supreme Court, and of course, Beltran, Freese, Holliday (the handsomest man in baseball), and the rest of the Cards.

We also traveled to Miami with my parents to see the Marlins in their new park  (with all these new ballparks, you would think the economy was booming…).  It is a techno dreamboat for fans and fish.  The roof opens for outside ball games when the weather cooperates.  My favorite thing in this dazzling, bling-infested park is the Homerun Sculpture designed by the famous artist, Red Grooms.  We were lucky enough to see two homers the day we went—and the sculpture comes to life: lights blink, fish swim and splash.  It’s FAN-tastic!  Oh, and they have a bobble-head museum, too.  Pretty neat stuff, even before the first pitch is thrown!

Those poor Tampa Bay Rays are "forced to make due" with a stadium that was built to woo a major league team way, way back in the ‘90s. “If we build it, they will come…” said city leaders.  After many failed attempts, St. Petersburg finally bagged a team of its own, only to have the team leave the name of its host city out of its name.  Ever heard of the St. Petersburg Rays? It’s like being a parent to a teen who doesn’t want to be seen in public with you…they don’t want to share your name and your house isn’t fancy enough for them. But that is all behind the scenes owner’s stuff.  The Rays are my new team and I enjoy watching them whenever I get the chance.  Larry even bought me a scorebook so I can keep track of what the boys are doing. 

Bottom line, I seen a lot of baseball, but I missed many of the presidential libraries along the way.  It wasn’t my fault: I had the plague in Texas so I missed both the Bush museums and the LBJ library is closed because its being renovated.  The stop at Jimmy Carter’s library in Atlanta was canceled because someone in the group was tired of traveling…

I still plan to visit those libraries and more—they are a treasure for those of us who love history.  But not today, there’s a game on at 3.  Play ball!