The Transformation of Rocket Man

He was the one to tell me that there was no such thing as Santa Clause. My sisters were smart enough to not let the cat out of the bag, after all, they benefited greatly from my innocence: continued extra presents and candy-filled stockings. But my cousin Eric had nothing to lose. He had been told by the Jewish kids in his neighborhood, where he lived in New Jersey.

I remember that most because it sounded as if Jewish kids from New Jersey were certainly credible sources of information on these types of issues. And that moment seems like 2 seconds ago in the course of my life. As if by some sort of SHAZAM ritual, my body has doubled in size and I have gained years of knowledge, a few college degrees, a husband, and enough wrinkles to start carefully watching the Oil of Olay commercials to see if I might benefit from one of their wonder products. Thoughts of Shazam amuse me because Eric, who spent his childhood years in different forms of Shazam costumes, has transformed into Rocket Man, an astronaut for NASA.

I am not shocked by this emergence: he started his career as a Fly Boy, playing the Top Gun role in a variety of fighter pilot slots. (You must know he is in the Air Force and not the Navy. If you are not of military decent this point will have no significance; however, for the rest of us, it means everything. I will steer clear from any snickering blows at either branch, I have loyalties to them each. My father, my uncles, and my sister were all Air Force. But I am still at heart a Navy wife, still replaying scenes from “The Hunt for Red October”.)

What does surprise me about Eric being Rocket Man is the odd fan fair that goes with the position. After all, people do not identify him as Rocket Man until he pulls on the blue flight suit with the big NASA patches. And then suddenly, the population around him becomes transfixed into a strange sense of AHH. During his recent visit, the fans were many.

There was a boy from an elementary school who said, “I wanted to be an astronaut my whole life” which made everyone giggle at his emphasis on the word WHOLE. And the woman from Ecuador who works at the gym who gave him a free cup of coffee after he signed an autograph. And the guy I work with who glared at my cousin, as if he were living the dream of going to space at that very moment. And the questions the space fans asked were equally as amusing. How do you go to bathroom in space? What do you eat? How long will it take you to go to Mars? If there is no gravity on Mars then how can you land on the surface of Mars? Do space creatures really exist? Why are we going to the moon? Will they send more teachers in space?

So whether Rocket Man goes to the moon, or Mars, or on a mission where he just orbits the earth, I expect him to come back with some greater wisdom. Maybe he will come back to tell me that the moon is in fact made of cheese. Or that he has found a planet that we can all move to with cheap water front property, warm weather, no traffic, and skiing close by. Or maybe he has found little green space creatures who still believe in Santa, disproving the Jewish kids from Jersey.

By Linda English