Tag Archives: History

May 31, 2025

Ad Astra: My Inevitable Journey to the Kennedy Space Center

By The Sector M

As a kid, I thought that the greatest thing you could ever grow up to be was an astronaut. I know it sounds cliché, but when I was in grade school, I thought that there was no greater calling. Much of my love for science fiction stems from the science of space exploration.

There was just something about the mystique of braving the extreme dangers of outer space and coming back safely that was the ultimate in cool. Names like Aldrin, Shepard, Lovell, and even their Soviet cosmonaut counterpart, Yuri Gagarin, were the giants of my world. Let’s talk a little about why.

The Right Stuff

I believe now, as I did back then, that astronauts and what they do represent the best of us. Astronauts themselves embody peak intelligence, physical and mental discipline, courage, commitment and a willingness to push the limits of what we think is possible. On the odd chance that any astronaut, past or present, should read this blog, you are the stars of my sky. Truly. The same goes for the multitude of scientists, engineers and technical specialists that help make it all happen.

The space program, on the other hand, is the culmination of our greatest scientific, technological, and engineering efforts in an ongoing attempt to satisfy our curiosity about the universe around us — a curiosity that can never truly be satisfied. In essence, it’s our best people, doing the best work, for the greatest reason. It’s the noblest part of our humanity writ large. Yeah, I know I may be laying it on a little thick, but I really believe that.

Two Space Centers

While I’ve lived in Texas my whole life, the Johnson Space Center (JSC) in Houston was just far enough from where I went to school that we never went there as part of any field trips. This is the place that James Lovell was addressing when he said “Houston, we’ve had a problem here” during the Apollo 13 mission. It was only as an adult that I got to sit in the viewing room, among the original red velveteen seats overlooking Mission Control where Lovell’s message was received. I’ve been there a few times now, and I can’t help but be inspired every time I go. Houston is not exactly in my back yard, but it’s a weekend trip, like going down there to go to Texas Renaissance Festival (yes, the one from the documentary), or any of the many excellent museums there. 

The part of NASA that I had never visited until recently, however, is the Kennedy Space Center (KSC) in Cape Canaveral, Florida, where the Mercury and Apollo missions, just to name a few, launched from originally. Rockets still launch from there today, though now commercial rockets from Blue Origin, Space X, and others are in the lineup as well.

For me, this was the place where the rubber met the proverbial road of the space program. This was the stage where it all happened, both the towering accomplishments of Apollo 11 and the tragedy of Apollo 1. Following through on President Kennedy’s aspirations to put a man on the moon is nothing less than a triumph of the human spirit. 

Perhaps the most tangible symbol of this is the Saturn V rocket, which was key to the moon missions. If you’ve never seen one before, it’s massive. As tall as a 30-story building, taller than the Statue of Liberty, when you look at this rocket, you start to get an idea of what it took to get to the moon. The difference between the gigantic superstructure of the Saturn and the almost ridiculously small command module at the very top is unbelievable. It’s humbling to stand in the shadow of this titan and begin to understand the number of scientists, engineers, construction specialists, and other personnel it took to design and build something like that.

Now, I’m not blind to the driving forces behind the early space program and the finer points of the Space Race, but when I look up at a Saturn V, I see only humanity at its finest. It’s the same kind of feeling when I see a space shuttle. Well, the KSC has the Space Shuttle Atlantis (OV-104) on the grounds as well, and seeing it up close was a powerful experience.

It’s strange; the shuttle is both bigger and smaller than I had guessed. Still, I could only just stand there, looking at her for a long while. You can still see the pits and scars on the black tiles of her aft section, near her thrusters, made from micro-meteors. Even writing about it gives me chills.

Much like my trip to Graceland, I think I’ve been on a journey to the KSC for a very long time, long before I knew exactly why or could even find it on a map. I think my trips to the JSC and, ultimately, the KSC were inevitable, and I can’t wait to go back one day.

The Next Generation

Of course, there are any number of interactive experiences and displays scattered around the KSC, even a couple of rides you can go on that simulate space exploration. Much like the JSC in Houston, I definitely get the impression that many of the attractions are meant for school field trips and families with children.

I’m glad of that. Younger generations deserve to have an exciting and inspirational vision of the space sciences, astrophysics, and exploration the same as me. I mean, I grew up eating astronaut ice cream and drinking Tang, and I’ve never doubted for a minute just how important the space program is to all of us. Not just those of us in the United States, but all of us.

Why It’s Important

I’ve heard the arguments against it all, of course. I even understand where these arguments come from. Normally they go something like this: How can we afford to spend all that time, effort and money on space stuff when we have so many problems down here at home?

For me, that’s the wrong question, which boils down to: How can we afford not to? We can talk about the tangible things that are directly attributable to the space program like the aforementioned Tang, non-stick coating for pots and pans, and so on, but many of the advances we enjoy today, like computers, cell phones, the internet, have their roots in the pursuit of space.

But more than that, consider this: The space program is a catalyst for science and technology that isn’t war. It is a peaceful way for us to learn more about life, the universe, and everything. Space is also one of the few fronts where nations that are actively hostile on the ground can still cooperate up there.

Final Thoughts

Space is the one place where humanity can really come together for the betterment of all. At least, that’s how it’s been, and I hope it continues on that way. I know that sounds a bit pie-in-the sky, and maybe it is, but that is one of the reasons that the space program resonates so heavily with me. It’s the best of us, exploring the unknown, and uniting in a shared purpose.

And what could be more human than that? 

Thanks for reading.

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October 30, 2024

Topaz: A Spectrum in Stone

By The Sector M

If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you likely know that museums are one of my passions. I regularly travel to museums across the U.S. with my family. Well, a new exhibit just opened a few weeks ago at The Perot Museum of Science and Nature in Downtown Dallas, Texas, called Topaz: A Spectrum in Stone. The reason I’m writing about it today is two-fold: First, it’s really cool, and the Perot has a stunning Gem & Mineral Hall; and two, I was a writer on this exhibit. (I even gave the exhibit its name.)

This is not the first exhibit I’ve worked on for the Perot (and I hope it will not be the last), but it is the first one I’m writing about on this blog. In fact, Topaz: A Spectrum in Stone replaced a mineralogy exhibit that I had previously worked on a few years back. As the name implies, it’s all about topaz.

I knew only a few passing details about these stones before I started, but learning about new things is part of why working for a museum is such a wonderful experience. For instance, I now know that red-orange topaz are the rarest of the rare in the world. Why, you ask? It’s because of the presence of chromium during the stone’s formation.

Along those lines, topaz are naturally colorless. If they have a color at all, it can be due to the presence of radiation or heat. In fact, you can artificially make a topaz blue by exposing it to further radiation and heat. Conversely, sunlight and UV radiation in general can actually leech the color back out of it.

Indeed.

The topaz displayed in this exhibit are some of the most well-known specimens in the world. Here a few of the stars of the show:

The Imperial Flame

Remember all that stuff about chromium above? Well, this topaz is one of the best examples of a fiery red-orange color. It was mined in Brazil and cut to have a stylized flame pattern along its surface. The Imperial Flame topaz is one of the best examples of this rarest-of-the-rare topaz in the world.

The Eye of Jaguar

Another one from Brazil, this topaz is largely clear, but has a yellow-green tint to it. It has an eye-shaped cut, but here’s the kicker: This topaz is over 9,600 carats! (Yes, Vegeta, over 9,000.) It’s so gigantic that at first glance it looks like a fancy paperweight, but this stone is the real deal. Keep in mind that this gem is this large even after it’s been cut. Just imagine how big it must’ve been coming out of the ground.

The Texas Bluebonnet

My close-up shot of the actual stone came out blurry. Consequently, this is not the Texas Bluebonnet, but this shows you the approximate color and cut of the actual stone.

Another fun fact: Texas is the only state with its own official gem cut — the Lone Star cut, which forms a five-pointed star in the middle of the gem. Also, blue topaz is the Texas state gemstone. So, if there was one topaz that embodies both the pale blue color of Texas topaz (found exclusively in Mason County), and the Lone Star cut, it’s this 234-carat topaz.

This is just to name a few. The exhibit also includes several bicolor topaz from the Volyn deposit in Ukraine, some other imperial topaz that are more of an amber yellow, and several large, uncut topaz that are stunning in their colors and/or size. One of them even looks like it’s a piece of ice from right off the side of an iceberg. Trust me when I say that photos don’t do them justice. Like, at all.

I’ve been to a fair few natural history museums in my time, but the Gem & Mineral Hall at the Perot remains my favorite, and not just because I’ve worked on exhibits there. The specimens they have there, such as the famed Eyes of Africa, the largest intact stibnite crystal ever found, and a person-sized purple geode, all come together to really show us the breathtaking beauty that our planet has to offer.  

In closing, if you are in the Downtown Dallas area, I highly recommend giving the Perot a visit. There’s so much to see and explore, so make a day of it. From dinosaur fossils to space exploration, and many points in-between, The Perot Museum of Science and Nature is an experience quite unlike any other.

Thanks for reading!

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February 18, 2022

My Journey to the Place of Red Corn

By The Sector M

Late last year, I had the pleasure of visiting my first Mayan ruins at Chacchoben in the forests of Mexico’s coastal state of Quintana Roo. My tour group set out in the morning from Costa Maya on an hour-long trip by van inland to the ruin site itself. Our tour guide was a gentleman by the name of Gabriel, or Gabo for short.

Photos don’t do it justice. Trust me.

Gabo is an interesting guy for a number of reasons. First, he is the answer to the question he gets a lot from tourists: “Where did the Mayans go?” 

“We’re still here,” is his usual answer. Gabo is himself of Mayan descent. In fact, Gabo came from a place in Mexico where the Mayan language is spoken primarily. He learned Spanish as a second language as a kid in school. En route to the ruins, he gave us a bit of history on the Mayan culture, his heritage, and even the Mayan counting system, which used lines and dots with dividing lines to represent escalating multiples of 20, 400, and 8,000.

The leaf/football symbol represents zero.

We arrived at Chacchoben, which means “The Place of Red Corn.” It is located next to a brightly colored traditional Mexican cemetery. I’ll come back to that in a moment. The ruins were rediscovered in 1972 and subsequently excavated in 1994. The area still has places that have not yet been excavated. Occasionally you could see this with an otherwise ordinary hill revealing a fragment of a stone wall peeking through gaps in the dirt. 

This ficus tree is likely more than a thousand years old, possibly more.

Chacchoben is not nearly the largest set of Mayan ruins in Mexico, but they are in remarkable shape considering their age. They date back to the Classic Period of Mayan civilization from about 250 to 900 CE. I’ve heard different estimates of when these ruins were built, but it is likely around 500–700 CE. It can be hard to wrap your mind around just how long ago that was. I had to remind my young son that the buildings there were the oldest that he had ever seen, by quite a large margin.

The people give you a sense of scale.

We toured through plazas and temple complexes in a large loop that goes around the entire site, up and down stone staircases that are narrow enough that it’s easier (and safer) to traverse them sideways. Next to the main temple, there’s even an ancient cieba tree. The branches that grow straight out from the trunk were thought to represent the levels of the heavens, earth, and underworld.    

This is the Cieba tree near the temple in the picture above.

Oh, one other thing that Gabo mentioned, something he was very passionate about: Ancient aliens didn’t build Chacchoben, the Mayans did. None of us had asked him that particular question, but he said it early on in our conversation, almost as if to get it out of the way. I can definitely see why this might be a point of contention for him, especially since there are so many History channel specials out there that talk about ancient aliens.

One place I found of particular interest was one of its most mundane. There was a market square with rows of open stone bleachers that formed a perimeter around a large open space. Gabo explained that this would have been used for town meetings and ceremonies, as well as a farmers market. What struck me most about them was that they still could be used as a market today. Much like the Agora in many Greek cities, this was the beating heart of the community. Almost every citizen would have interacted with it at some point in their daily lives.

Just imagine what life was like here.

Gabo further explained that most of the stone would have been covered in a type of bright white paint. This would allow tradesmen to bring in goods at night when it was cool using only a tiny bit of moonlight.

Speaking of paint, the ruins would have been covered in plaster and painted all sorts of vibrant, almost neon colors. As magnificent as the ruins are as they stand today, we are just seeing the dull under layer. There was one place, at the back of one of the temples, where there is still a tiny bit of the original pigment and plaster. Here it is:

Amazing.

Even in that state, however, there is a definite sense of wonder that you get standing there. These buildings aren’t just for ceremony. No, this is where thousands of people made their home. The echo of their lives still resonates through that place.

Remember the cemetery I mentioned earlier? It’s possible that bright colors we see there are an echo of this tradition. Many of the paints used there are made from natural pigments, so it gives us a potentially tantalizing clue as to the amazing palate the Mayans might have used to paint their buildings.

Once again, photos don’t do it justice.

It certainly makes you wonder why the Mayans might have abandoned this place if they had taken such pains to build them in exacting alignment with the sun and stars. I asked Gabo that very question. He was of the belief that it might have been something as simple as an extended dry period. A crop failure of just one year could have been devastating enough, but if it had gone two or three years in a row, the Mayans might have been forced to find a new place to live just to survive.

This is the back of the of the temple next to the cieba tree. In fact, you can see it in the back ground, just to the right of center

Sooner than I would have liked, it was time for us to load up in the van and head back out to the port. I have to tell you that seeing these ruins has really reignited my interest in Mesoamerican cultures, something I’ve had since I was a kid. At some point in the future, I would dearly love to take a tour of the Mayan and Aztec ruins throughout Mexico and Central America.  

I don’t know if I will ever again have the chance to visit the Place of Red Corn, but I can tell you that I am incredibly grateful to have visited it this once, and walk in the footsteps of the ancients.

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