and Words
The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path
The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
If there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I′ll see you on the dark side of the moon
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
I remember a toy rocket I had as a child. It was molded plastic with stark red and white parts. This toy resembled a rocket from the space program. If I were to speculate, it was a replica of Apollo 11. The red and white parts represented each stage that separated as the rocket progressed towards the moon. I distinctly remember playing with this rocket in the dining room of my dad’s restaurant.
Along with the toy, I also had a book that demonstrated the separation between the stages and the boosters. I don’t remember if it came with the toy or not; it might’ve been a separate coloring book. However, the space program fascinated me, as it did most boys my age (and in that era). In the back of my mind, I yearned to be an astronaut.
Even as I grew older, I continued to get rocket toys. I had another rocket toy powered by air pressure and water; ironically, it was also red and white. Years later, I even got into Estes model rockets; some models even had a booster stage, much like the Apollo 11 toy from years before. I won’t tell you I was the new Homer Hickam, but I found the story of exploring the great wide unknown deeply romantic.
By the time I learned about the space program, all the excitement had already passed. We had already landed on the moon. Instead of watching those events as they happened, I lived them through words on a page. As my education transitioned from Spanish to English, I discovered Robert Heinlein. Those words magically leapt off the page and into my mind.
Though I never imagined becoming an astronaut as a pilot, I entertained a glimmer of hope as more scientists and engineers became astronauts. As I approached high school, the first Space Shuttle launched and it reignited that fire. Gone are the days of single use rockets, we now focused on repeatability and reuse. In many ways, that shuttle broke the romaticism of the space program. Subsequent launches lacked that spirit of raw thirst for knowledge or achievement; now relegated to utilitarian duties of hauling (and installing) items in space.
The space shuttle missions became the long-haul truckers with the added obstacle of overcoming the Earth’s gravity. Those missions enabled technologies like GPS and DirectTV that rely on geostationary satellites. Naturally, we wept with tragedies like the explosion of the Challenger. However, these shuttles flew well over a hundred times; subsequent launches were no longer noteworthy.
Years later, as I watched the movie Hidden Figures, I learned how much farther the moon is from the Earth than the typical shuttle mission. The engineer in me understands that covering that distance in space is vastly different than on Earth. Once you set a rocket on a trajectory, there’s no gravity or air friction to slow it down or stop it. Nonetheless, it’s still leaves me in awe.
Today, we watch those astronauts from Artemis II land in the Pacific Ocean. On one hand, I look upon them with the strange excitement from my youth and ponder the vast distance that they’ve traveled to slingshot a mass that orbits our world. On the other hand, I look upon those achievements with the cynical eye of an engineer, knowing that Artemis II achieved basically what we had already done in the late 1960s. I certainly felt the excitement, like living out of a Heinlein novel, but perhaps with a retro feel.
As an engineer, I understand the methodological approach to testing iterative changes to minimize the risk of problems. I’ll often say, the more moving parts, the more likely something is to go wrong. While I quietly yearned for another moon landing, I understood the need to verify some new engineering details. Though once we look more closely, this Artemis mission subtly accomplished some distinctive firsts. First, the first female and black astronauts have reached the moon, even if orbiting. Second, Artemis II is the first crewed mission to orbit the dark side of the moon.
Though I honestly can’t read the words “dark side of the moon” without hearing the verse “I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon” set to Roger Waters. Even hearing this classic Pink Floyd song paints a picture of drifting lazily into the vastness of space, perhaps towards the moon. Both the music and the tone of his voice are melodic and almost peaceful.
Though, as I listen to the words, I realize that while the words sound peaceful, the scenario is far from it. It tells the story of someone who struggles with their mental health and descends into madness. Their existence, while passive, is filled with angst. In fact, it wasn’t until I started writing this post when I realized that the name of this song is ‘Brain Damaged’.
Pink Floyd released this album over fifty years ago; those words inspired by their bandmate, Syd Barrett, and his struggles with mental health. Our attitudes have changed considerably over that time span.
Going forward, as I hear the words to this song, not only will I think about the magic of space exploration and the human spirit. Though similarly, I’ll also quietly remember those loved ones that succommed to the struggles of mental health. I’ll look upward and ponder our spiritual impressions of a silent sky and that eventual end. Though the engineer in me will look past the pastel blue and cloud formations and look at the darkness of space and its complete absence of light.
If they indeed maintain an existence beyond their corporal one on Earth, I hope that they’ve finally found peace. If there’s such a thing, I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon. ❤️