I had the opportunity and priviledge of watching Shuttle Atlantis take off on its final mission, and the final mission for the shuttle program in general, from New Smyrna Beach a couple of months ago. I have lived in Central Florida for 7 1/2 years now, having moved down from Syracuse, NY. It just so happens that we can see the launches at Kennedy Space Center from our house. I can walk right out my front door into the cul-de-sac in front of my house and watch anything and everything NASA launches rise up behind my across-the-street neighbor’s house and disappear into the sky. I remember when we first moved down here, this was one of the coolest things going, and it still is. It was such a novelty. When we lived in Syracuse, the shuttle launches were sort of like hurricanes; something interesting that you saw on the national news and that always happened someplace else. Once we got here, we couldn’t believe that we were actually watching the shuttle launch from the comfort of our own street. (We also couldn’t believe that we had 3 hurricanes come right over the top of our house the first year we were here, but that’s another blog in and of itself). Anytime a launch went off, any neighbors that were home would come out to watch. It never got old.
When I first saw Atlantis launch in June of 2007, I had my first digital point-and-shoot camera, and got some photos. It was a beautiful day with a bright blue sky. My camera had very few megapixels, and not nearly enough zoom to truly see the capsule, but the contrails were a tell-tale sign that something amazing was happening. Seeing a launch with your very own eyes makes you think about all the things that are going on far above your head high in the sky, and all it takes to make these things happen. It’s very humbling, and has a tendency to make life on earth seem very pedestrian and small for a moment.

Shuttle Atlantis Launch June 8, 2007
The next time Atlantis launched, on May 11, 2009, I was at work auditing charts at a physician’s office that was much further away from the launchpad than I would have been had I been home. Again, it was a deep blue sky with only a few wispy clouds in it. I had gotten my bigger DSLR camera by this time, but did not have a tripod, or if I had one, I certainly didn’t bring it to work. I ran outside quickly just to catch the shuttle launch as best I could. I was, after all, on company time. You can barely see the flames at the tip of the contrails, but it was still an awe-inspiring sight.

Shuttle Atlantis - May 11, 2009
I’ve taken photos of launches as I could over the years, but there never seemed to be any urgency, and if I didn’t get good photos, I just figured there’d be another one, and I’d get better photos “next time.” Along the way, I have been befuddled by scratched launches, overcast skies that obscured my view from my trusted observation point on the cul-de-sac, uncooperative tripods, and my own brain totally forgetting about a launch on a gorgeous day right at the time when there is the very best light. You can be sure there were some choice words that came out of my mouth when my husband called to ask if I had gotten any good launch photos, and I realized that in the course of my everyday “busyness”, I had totally forgotten about it. Again, I fell back on my old mantra - “there will be another launch, I’ll get a good shot next time.”
As we approached the final shuttle launch, it began to sink in that there wasn’t going to be another launch, and there might be no “next time” to get a good photo. My brain had known it all along, but the shuttle program has been such a big part of life down here in Central Florida that my heart just didn’t want to grasp the finality of it all until the bitter end. My procrastination had led me to a point of no return. Gotta get this photo or else. Talk about pressure. I wish I could say that the sky was blue, the sun was shining, I got a phenomenal photo and that it all ended up okay in the end, but it would be an outright lie. It was a very cloudy day, and the sky was a total gray-out. As a matter of fact, we all thought the launch was going to be canceled right up until the final seconds. I went to New Smyrna Beach, and with my camera and very best lens perched upon my tripod, I waited with the rest of the world for this very special moment to happen. I did get a photo, and you can actually see the capsule in this one. The flames shooting out the back of the capsule look bright and hot, even through the haze of clouds, and the contrails are clearly there. It’s not the greatest photo in the world. I’m not sure it’s even a “good” photo, though I did capture all that was visible that gray day. But I was there, in person, actually seeing this historic event with my very own eyes, again knowing that something amazing was happening far above me up in the sky.

Now that the shuttle program is done, it seems quieter down here. The big focus that was directed toward the shuttle program has turned to other, smaller rockets being launched, and what’s next for the Space Coast. I have mixed feelings about the end of the shuttle program. It would be good to know that we have the means to keep the International Space Station (ISS) supplied, and a way to get our astronauts there and back, but it seems that that is something that could, and should be taken care of by the private sector now. The technology is there. I think the science and exploration should absolutely continue on the ISS. That’s why it was built in the first place, and I think valuable discoveries will come from it. But I’d like to see us working towards the next big thing, uncharted territory, big discovery, whatever that may be. Hopefully NASA will have vision and focus for the “next big thing” very soon.
As expected, life down here feels a little different to me now. I will miss the shuttle launches, and will always pine for that “awesome picture” - you know, the one that got away. I will especially miss the sonic booms that you hear upon the shuttle return. Another thing that we Floridians are acutely aware of - feeling your house shake, hearing your windows rattle, thinking for a split second that an electrical transformer blew somewhere close by, and wondering why your power is still on - and then realizing that the shuttle just re-entered the Earth’s atmosphere, and breathing a sigh of relief that your family member has made it safely back home. But I will be forever grateful for the lesson in the “perils of procrastination.” Never again will I think that there will always be a next time or another chance to get that photo, take that trip, contact that friend, or whatever the important task may be. That “next time” may never come. If I find the uncertainty of it all a bit disconcerting, I just stop and think about hurricanes…there will always be hurricanes.