John Herrman
wrote the following eulogy back in 2009:
On March 15th, 2009, a bat clung to the Space Shuttle Discovery as it was thrust toward the great beyond. Goodbye and Godspeed, magnificent Space Bat.
During the countdown, Space Bat was spotted latched to the foam of the external fuel tank, occasionally moving but never letting go. Wildlife experts deduced that he had injured his wing and shoulder, leaving him with little chance of survival. He remained on the tank until launch. NASA's cold report? “The animal likely perished quickly during Discovery's climb into orbit.”
True! But here's how it should have read:
Bereft of his ability to fly, and with nowhere to go, a courageous bat climbed aboard Discovery with stars in his weak little eyes. The launch commenced, and Space Bat trembled as his frail mammalian body was pushed skyward. For the last time, he felt the primal joy of flight; for the first, the indescribable feeling of ascending toward his dream—a place far away from piercing screeches and crowded caves, stretching forever into fathomless blackness.
Whether he was consumed in the exhaust flames or frozen solid in the stratosphere is of no concern. Space Bat died, but his dream will live on in all of us.
John H Reiher, Jr offered a rewrite of the poem
High Flight
by John Magee:
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on leather-skinned wings;
Moonward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of moon-split clouds, - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the moonlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager wings through footless halls of air…
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew -
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high un-trespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my wing, and touched the face of God
14-Sep-2013 10:13:20
