Mamacita says: I grew up obsessed with astronomy, and the sci fi I got every few days from the library led me to believe that by the time I was grown up, we’d have established colonies on the moon and on Mars and would be hobnobbing with aliens and all kinds of beings from other galaxies.
My first sci fi novel. I was in the first grade. Andromeda galaxy indeed!
I wanted to go to Mars. I wanted to land on the moon on the way, to refuel and possibly pick up passengers, and I wanted to experience a comet near-miss. It was in the book!
Mom forbade me to check out this book any more. But how could a little kid read it too much?
In the second grade, I discovered Danny Dunn. It’s a series, and if you have a really young elementary-level child, I highly recommend it. It’s even got a scientific girl in it, which was quite unusual for the times.
This is only one of a series of science fiction novels for really young readers.
When I was in the fifth grade, I discovered Ray Bradbury by way of “The Twilight Zone.” I have never looked back.
So well-written, it makes my head spin.
I still fantasize about going on a space journey. I am lost in envy of book and movie characters who are on long journeys further and further into space. That our government eliminated the shuttle program makes me sick at heart.
It’s disgraceful that we are no longer making and using our own shuttles!
In fact, when I think about the attitude of the general population and, sadly, our own government, concerning science and progress and creativity and innovation and whimsy and common sense and attitudes toward those who are somehow different, I feel really let down. This probably explains why I feel so at home with “Voyager,” and “Star Trek,” and “Harry Potter,” etc, and why I am so puzzled by people who are not comfortable and who even show hostility towards anyone who is different from them, and who are not curious about what’s “out there,” and who are content to just sit around and watch bridezillas and hoarders and who don’t care a bit about space exploration or even getting along with neighbors who aren’t identical with them in their appearance and beliefs, etc.. I’m different from them, and proud to be. Which, by my own logic, makes me one of them. And now I’m really upset.
Voyager. I want to be there.
And what makes me even more upset is the sad fact that even if we wised up and initiated a space program tomorrow, I wouldn’t qualify now because I’m too darn old. I mean, by the time we got “there,” I’d be long dead.
As for hobnobbing with aliens. . . once we’re in space, WE’RE the aliens.