Dr Who taught me that there are fixed points in time that have to happen, that can't be changed. Some of these important instances must inevitably coincide with pivotal, huge, cultural moments that imprint on all of our collective memories. They may be assassinations that start wars. They may be wardrobe malfunctions. They may occur in plain sight of thousands or even millions of eyeballs, like the moon landing in 1969. Today felt like the last of those. I was driving around, running errands, so when SpaceX launched their heavy rocket today, I was listening to TV on the radio again, and heard it announced live. I didn't get to see the video until much later, but that didn't stop me from getting pleasant chills listening to the crowd cheer at the Kennedy Space Center. The announcers voices were hoarse and excited, like they were watching the thrilling final moments of a big sports event (much like the one two days ago). I smiled and pictured clearly in my mind what the rocket launch must look like and how victorious and inspired all those scientists (and future scientists) must have felt. I hadn't listened to a whole lot of coverage leading up to the launch, because my usual Rotary meeting fell while they were waiting for the launch window to open all the way. So I didn't realize that the booster rockets were intended to land gently and be reused (as they had already done once before). Listening to the joy and amazement of the people describing the perfect synchronized vertical landing of the two booster rockets was the moment I knew: this was one of those fixed points in time, where everything changes. How perfect!
I would have liked to have been parked in front of a television screen for the launch, but my early afternoon was special to me in a much smaller, more personal way. Rotary means the world to me, not just in the fellowship it offers with people who welcomed me to their community, but as an endless stream of volunteer opportunities. I've always gravitated toward ways to give of my time and energy, because for most of my life, I haven't been flush with cash to give only gifts of money. With each quarterly dues payment to Rotary, I also give $25 to the Rotary International Foundation. It's not a lot, but it's the entry level of charitable giving to be a "sustaining member." These things go not only to big projects like the global eradication of polio (which is getting SO CLOSE), but also come back to our local chapter to be used as small donations to community needs like upgraded computers in less affluent schools. Those who give $1000 to the Foundation achieve what is known as a Paul Harris Fellowship, and for each $1k after that, you achieve "plus one," "plus two," etc. In lieu of the full gift of money, there are points each chapter has available to award fellowships to people who volunteer or who have provided some valuable service to the club that the members want to recognize. Our club had a surplus of points that had not been handed out in a while (especially after our outstanding 100th anniversary of the foundation donation drive last June). They were offering matching points to people who wanted to donate a little extra to reach their next level. I had wanted to do that, to give the few hundred I would need to have matched to hit my first PHF, but money has been flowing out faster than it's coming in lately (especially in the direction of the animal hospital), so I couldn't do it. Imagine my surprise when I learned that I and one other habitual volunteer were to be awarded Paul Harris Fellowships solely based on service to the club. There were four others besides us who were to get our pins and certificates today, and the meeting was full of guests for all of us who knew what was coming. Mr S-P and our younger daughter came with me today. Of all the days for me finally to get either of them to be my guest, this was the best one.
My mission while I listened to the SpaceX launch was diametrically opposed to the high tech marvel I was witnessing. I decided I am done with cheap little electric coffee grinders that die after six or seven uses (the most recent one I bought didn't last five months). I said to myself, if a new stone age were to strike me tomorrow, I had better have a way to make coffee, or I will not survive it. I own a french press pot already. I know how to make a fire with the tree trimmings in my back yard, so I can heat water. But I've already learned that using a mortar and pestle on the chunky coffee grounds that the capricious Costco grinder screwed up was no fun at all. I needed a hand crank coffee mill, so I went to acquire one. It was too late in the day to brew a fresh pot (not when the one from this morning was still half full), so I won't know until tomorrow whether this was a worthwhile investment. It's going to bring back a skilled touch to the art of making coffee. How could it not be exactly what I needed at exactly the right time? Bring on the post-technology apocalypse. I'll be just fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment