For several lengthy portions of my life (those not crowded with the exploits of various sports or political figures), if I had been offered the opportunity to be anyone in the world, my first choice would have been Jim Lovell. Long before he was immortalized by Tom Hanks and Ron Howard in a very, very good movie, Jim Lovell was an honest to goodness hero. Lovell flew fighters in the Korean War, and, familiar to the stories of many of the astronauts, became a navy test pilot later. He missed out on being in the Mercury 7 over a marginal medical problem. It wasn't enough to keep him out of the Gemini program. He flew Gemini 7 with Frank Borman, and again, with Borman and Bill Anders on Apollo 8.
Apollo 8 flew around the moon.
They flew around the moon.
Three American men in a tin can flew around the back of the moon, that part that faces away from Earth and out into space.
They were the crew that made the Christmas Eve broadcast back to us in 1968. They (and it depends on whether Lovell or Borman is telling the story of just who held the camera) got the first shots of the "Earth-rise" over the moon's horizon. They are breathtakingly stunning photographs to this very day.
Apollo 8 and the Christmas Eve telecast are the earliest memories that I have, outside of family life, of something good and positive. The first memories that I carry, outside the family, are of the murders of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy. Perhaps that's why our parents were so determined that we watch Lovell, Borman and Anders on Christmas Eve. 1968 had been a horrible year of assassination, Viet Nam, Chicago and Nixon.
Lovell flew next on Apollo 13.
He, Fred Haise and Jack Swigert had the rollercoaster ride of all rollercoaster rides. An explosion in an onboard oxygen tank cost them their opportunity to land on the moon. It very nearly cost them their lives.
Their survival is testimony to the intelligence and training of the astronauts and the Mission Control staff, and the sheer determination and leadership of Jim Lovell. He willed that spacecraft home.
Lovell is a modest man. His wit is self-deprecating. He is often to this day applauded for his strength and toughness in that toughest of circumstances. He often pokes fun at being lauded for a failed mission.
Lovell is a man of courage. He is a man of science. He is a man of intellect, loyalty and character.
Jim Lovell is 82 years old today. And he is still one of my heroes.
Happy birthday, Sir. And thank you, again.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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