Help me, Major Tom

I see, according to Google’s top o’ the page search icon, that today is the 50th anniversary of the launch of Sputnik, the Soviet satellite, and the first human crafted bit of junk in space. Wow, a half-a-century. And such changes have come about as a result. If it hadn’t been for the precedent set by Sputnik, I wouldn’t be writing this and sending it out to all of you.

1957 was a very long time ago. Let’s see what was what way back then. Khrushchev was the boss of the then Soviet Union; Eisenhower was US president, John Diefenbaker was Canadian PM, and Harold Macmillan was UK prime minister. George W. Bush was 11-years-old.

I don’t remember many changes in my life wrought by the successful launch of this thing. I recall standing outside at night to see if I might discern it among the stars. I was unsuccessful. I do remember the US was mightily pissed off that the rotten Russkie commies had beaten them to the punch, so I suppose, most significantly, the so-called ‘space race’ was on from that juncture. That Christmas my dad gave me an old outboard motor that he’d refurbished (he was ‘handy’, that guy) and painted on it was the name ‘Sputternik’ Handy and droll – sort of. I still have the outboard, by the way. I don’t think it’s been fired up since about 1962.

Despite all the excitement about space stuff, I never really much got caught up in it. It’s the sort of thing that is supposed to enchant a kid, but never much worked for me. I was always more interested in stuff here on earth – like dinosaurs, ancient history and, because puberty was afoot in all its wonders, girls. I still like dinosaurs, history and girls. Space? Not so much, and I have no deep-rooted explanation for that.

I remember at the time of the moonwalk in 1969 a whole bunch of people were gathered around our TV to experience that momentous occasion. I actually wasn’t. I went out fishing, instead. We lived on the water and salmon were running. See, down-to-earth stuff. I no longer fish, but I remain more interested in salmon (and their depletion as the result of our wasteful activities) than what is going on up there. Anyway, I heard about it later.

As a kid I was either highly non-geeky (I like to think that), or out of synch, but I was never very interested in science fiction. I read a few things by some of the better scribes in the genre, like Heinlein and Asimov, and always had a soft-spot for Ray Bradbury, but his stuff isn’t really sci-fi, it’s metaphorical morality tales.

I never really got into Star Trek, or Star Wars, and would only watch them as a diversion if nothing else was on. Just plain space shit bored me silly. If another element was added -- a human element – then I felt differently. I like the movie Aliens both for Sigourney Weaver’s C-cup Sigourney Weaverness, and the monster itself, which was protecting its young. See, a human element was added. I liked Close Encounters of the Third Kind, because it brought it all back to earth, as did Starman. Add some humor to these tales and I’m hooked, all the way from ET, to The Red Dwarf, to the sublime Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and the sans pareil Dr. Who.

And, I cannot forget Bowie’s Space Oddity – “Calling Major Tom!”

Anyway, Sputnik, "so long, and thanks for all the fish."