Robert Escandon

Commentary by Robert Escandon, Sumner Newscow columnist – Some years ago, while still living in England, I co-owned an Engineering business.  My business partner and I decided to negotiate with our wives for one week’s leave of absence so we could go to Daytona, Fla. for the annual motorbike races and festivities.  Both wives duly advanced permission, so the two of us flew to Daytona.

We did the expected things:  walked up and down looking at all the beautiful Harley Davidson’s and chatting to their proud owners.  I recall one man who, I thought at the time, was going a tad too far with the worship of his glorious machine.  There he was with leather chaps, gang tattoos, grey beard and ample stomach looking every bit like a hard biker dude! Somewhat surprisingly, he had a pink feather duster and was lovingly using it to clean between the cooling fins of the engine.  Now, I like a clean bike,  BUT ——–!!!

Basically, we had left our responsibilities at home and reverted to being two “grown-up little boys” for a week.    We also got a buzz from watching the Weather Channel and seeing the blizzards up north while we were basking in the Florida sunshine.

I took home memories of a fun and relaxing vacation.  However, there was one particular memory than stuck in my mind.

We heard on the news that the Space Shuttle was due for take-off the following morning at 6:30 a.m. and figured that this was an event we had to witness.  Unfortunately, Daytona is just too far from Cape Canaveral to view the launch directly — the horizon gets in the way.  But we reasoned that the shuttle would be visible, just a few seconds after take-off, if we stood on Daytona Beach and looked due south.

We were up just after sunrise and made our way to the beach.  Sure enough, just after 6:30 a.m. we saw the bright orange glow of the shuttle’s booster rockets tracing out a parabolic curve into the clear blue sky and leaving behind a pure white vapor trail to mark the path of its ascent.

Being a mathematician and engineer, I was imagining all the calculations playing out like a symphony before me.  I noted the rate and geometry of ascent and marveled at the unbelievable power being generated to blast the shuttle into orbit.  Figures I had read came to mind as I viewed the spectacle — The two booster rockets burning  liquid hydrogen and oxygen at a combustion temperature of 6,000 degrees F and producing 37 million horse power!

The rocket nozzles mounted on gimbals to control the pitch, yaw and roll would be making millisecond adjustments to control the programmed flight-path.  After unleashing this colossal energy (in less than 9 minutes) the booster rockets would have been jettisoned and the shuttle would be settled into near earth orbit.

While dwelling on the math, my friend brought me back to earth (sorry about the pun) saying “can you believe there are five brave people riding on top of that crazy thing?”  He was absolutely correct:  They weren’t robots riding that incredible rollercoaster, they were human-beings putting their lives on the line.  Out of sight would be thousands of NASA employees and subcontractors biting their lips and praying that their calculations and work would prevail and that the mission would succeed.

As the orange glow faded and the vapor trail dispersed, I took the opportunity to look around at other people who had come to the beach to witness the event.  There were young and old alike, standing in quiet admiration — and who among us could not admire that very pinnacle of human engineering and scientific achievement?  There was really nothing to be said.  We’d all just witnessed something wonderful and were in awe.

There were retirees who had come down from their sea-front condos to watch the launch.  Baseball caps had been removed and placed over the heart in homage to the spectacle we had all witnessed.  There was surprisingly little sound.  Just the odd muffled whoop from a few, younger members of our beach congregation, but overall there was a strange, steadfast, silence of respect.  The baseball caps over the hearts of believers said it all with an eloquence that denied casual conversation.

We had just witnessed everything that makes America great; the successful execution of an almost unbelievably difficult feat.  Not to be conducted at some secret desert location, but in full view of the world’s humanity.  Success could be championed and failure would be known by all.

The older retired man, that morning, standing next to me on the beach, holding the peak of his cap placed proudly over his heart, painted a picture of pride.  Talk is talk, but action is so much more impressive.

I was reminded of the infrequently-used, but very eloquent saying, “nothing succeeds like success!”

Follow us on Facebook.

Follow us on Twitter.