Mr. President

One of my earliest memories is sitting on the floor one evening, watching the television. I was very, very young. I get the feeling that I was sitting because I was still unable to stand. I don't remember much, no audio, no time of day, not even any motion- just the image which was on the TV. The image of the space shuttle Columbia sitting on the launch pad, ready to launch.

By the time I was five years old I was showing enough interest in flying and spaceflight that my parents sent me on my first flight lesson. It terrified me, but did nothing to dissuade me from learning everything I could about spaceflight. The interest consumed me.

I read about the history of NASA. I watched every documentary I could find, usually several times. I read about the astronauts, not just their records or their schooling, but their personalities and the kind of people they were. I read about the machines, not just their capabilities, but how they worked.

I was in Kindergarten when the Challenger exploded. The entire class had gone outside to watch the launch... I knew before anyone else that something terrible had happened, but I hoped I was wrong. I remember telling my classmates that the big plume of smoke was just from the solid rocket booster separation. I was five years old and knew the shuttle's systems well enough to try to explain the failure.

By the time I was 8 years old I was well versed in the history of flight and spaceflight, from the first supersonic aircraft (the X-planes), through the Mercury, Gemini, Apollo, SpaceLab, Apollo - Soyuz, and shuttle programs. I knew the names of those lost in the Challenger accident and the names of those lost in Apollo 1. I knew many of the unsung heroes, too, like Michael Collins... the guy who stayed in the Command Module while Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon.

I already knew at this age that I wanted to be an aerospace engineer. I wanted to design and build these spacecraft... and fly them.

I had already begun to focus my own skills and personality such that I could someday reach that goal. I could fly those X-planes in the flight simulator I demanded be installed on the family computer. I did my best with math, and learned as much science as I could. I even joined the Boy Scouts of America as many of the astronauts I thought so highly of had been Eagle Scouts.

By the time I was 12 years old I had already flown many shuttle missions in simulators on my own computer or in the full-size mock up at Space Camp. I was learning every system I could, on the shuttle, in airplanes, or even right in front of me within the computer I was using as the tool to learn with.

The day I turned 13 I joined the Civil Air Patrol, the U.S. Air Force Auxiliary. There I continued my aerospace education and learned what life was like in the Air Force, another place where many astronauts had come from.

By the time I was 18 I had lived on an Air Force base for a week, flown several airplanes, performed acrobatic maneuvers in one of them, and had learned enough about aircraft and instrumentation to reliably land simulators in zero visibility. I had visited the Air Force Academy, I was Cadet Commander of my Civil Air Patrol unit, and Squadron commander of my high school's AFJROTC.

In school, I had become known as one of the best student computer programmers on campus, I was in honors classes with a major focus on science, and I had completed all of the math courses the high school offered.

Today, I'm a grown man, happily married and father of two. I've continued my aerospace education to include commercial pilot and flight instructor certificates. I'm employed using my computer skills. I own my own house, I pay taxes, and I support my family without any Government help.

I may not have, and may never, reach the goals I set when I was younger. However the journey has been one heck of a ride, has given me the confidence to know that I can do anything, given me some very useful knowledge, and has prepared me for whatever comes next. Something that goes a bit unnoticed though is that it has also turned me into a very functional member of society,

However, with very few exceptions, when I look around at my peers, and those younger than me, I see an entirely different story than my own. Many of them lack employment, or a place to live. Many of them lack a useful skill set. Most importantly, though... they seem to lack the will to change this, by improving themselves.

Our schools are considered to be failing because our scores in areas like math and science are falling in comparison to the rest of the world. I contend that the best schools in the world will fail if the students are uninterested.

Our economy is considered to be failing because there's no funding for new jobs. I contend that our economy is failing because people have no reason to work beyond getting a paycheck. They've lost the inspiration that comes with knowing that the work they do is part of something greater.

Mr. President: We don't need new roads, the ones we have are working. We don't need better schools, the ones we have didn't fail me. We don't need to bail out banks, our real problems are not financial.

Mr. President, we need to go to the Moon.

We need to inspire a generation to want to learn. To want to work so much they come up with better ways to get the job done. To want to change the world.

If we show them that they can do anything, what seems to be impossible now will be accomplished overnight.

-Chris

One Percent.

We almost all died the other day.

An asteroid the size of an office building passed very close to our planet. Closer than the moon. Closer than the satellites that send TV to your home.

We didn't know it was coming until it was already here.

A less than One Percent change in it's velocity could have caused an impact.

We almost all died the other day. It was in the news. But no one noticed.

I say no one noticed because we're still bickering over the value of our fellow man,
judging him by the color of his skin
or by his social status
or by the clothes he's wearing
or by his beliefs
or by how he smells.

We still don't talk to our neighbors.

We're still killing each other over our thoughts of our maker
or over the temporary high from drugs
or over a parking spot
or over money.

We're still driven by greed, at the expense of personal and collective happiness.
Wealth is still wasted on the wealthy.
We're still so focused on ourselves,
We're willingly slaves to our possessions,
but we won't even consider serving our fellow man.

Our personal short stay here is still more important than our collective short stay here.

We almost all died the other day.

We could still all die tomorrow.

But nothing's changed.

Not One Percent.