marieqrogers

Three times within one week I heard this phrase, or a version of it. That was over a year ago. Since then, this message keeps parting the clouds of gloom and doom that hang over us these days. I can no longer ignore it.

The first time I heard it was in an interview with Erik Lindbergh, the grandson of Charles Lindbergh, who made the first solo airplane flight from New York to Paris in 1927. A day or two after this interview, scientists announced the discovery of seven earth-like planets around a star only 40 light years away. Then at a solar energy meeting, the sentiment was repeated: this is a good time to be alive.

My father was a baby at the time of Lindbergh’s flight, but he didn’t escape the hero worship given to “Lucky Lindy.” To hear Dad talk, you’d think he personally witnessed the historic flight. His grandfather, my Grandad, was so inspired that when he sold a few building lots on the edge of his farm, he named the lane that led to them Lindberg Street.

Lindbergh’s plane

Charles Lindbergh’s flight was an attempt to claim the Orteig Prize. In 1919, Raymond Orteig offered a prize of $25,000 to the first person to make a successful solo non-stop flight across the Atlantic Ocean. Several aviators died in the attempt and Charles’ struggle to get financial backing was almost as difficult as the flight itself. In a world on the edge of economic collapse, teetering between two destructive world wars, Lindbergh’s flight was a bright spot in people’s lives.

Seventy five years later, Erik Lindbergh retraced his grandfather’s route, but in a modern plane with all the bells and whistles the Spirit of St. Louis lacked. He was also involved with the Ansari X Prize that awarded $10 million to the first non-governmental outfit to develop a manned, reusable spacecraft. In his interview, Erik discussed breakthrough technology in aviation, including electric and ecologically sustainable airplanes. He said it’s a good time to be alive. I was inspired.

The scientists discussing new exoplanets weren’t talking about manned flights to them, not anytime soon, but about the advances in telescopes and other technology that will lead to more exciting discoveries in the near future. They said it’s a good time to be alive.

I like to say I was born in the horse and buggy age and grew up in the space age. When I was a small child, my grandfather worked the farm with draft horses and I attended a one room schoolhouse. I remember when Grandpa bought his first tractor, a Massey Harris.

Massey Harris

I also remember when Sputnik was launched. Sputnik was Earth’s first artificial satellite, launched by the USSR in 1957. The reason I recall this historic event is because the adults in my life talked about it. They didn’t know what it meant. Was it a spy satellite? Could it drop bombs on us? I sensed their anxiety. It was a blow to the American ego that the Russians beat us into space. Sputnik launched the Space Race, and that shaped my childhood. The importance of science education was recognized and the US poured money into public schools.

Sputnik

The Russians also sent the first man into space, Yuri Gagarin, on April 12, 1961. Then a few weeks later, on May 5^th, Alan Shepard became the first American in space. The Mercury Astronauts were my heroes. I followed their feats on radio and collected newspaper clippings.

I took a small transistor radio to school one day when a launch was scheduled. It was during social studies class. I tried to hide the radio and turned it on at low volume, but when the teacher noticed, instead of reprimanding me, he asked me to turn it up so everyone could hear.

In 1961, President Kennedy proposed landing a man on the moon by 1970, a tall order for a country just a few years from the horse and buggy age. If you go to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, look at those early space capsules. They are little more than oversize tin cans.

Can you imagine flying to the moon in this?

Then on July 20, 1969, I was glued to the TV to watch Neil Armstrong’s walk on the moon. Months later, I shared the anxiety of our entire country when the Apollo 13 crew was not expected to make it back to Earth alive, but they did. Space Shuttle Columbia was launched the day I went into labor with my daughter. The midwife said I should name her Columbia, but I had another name picked out.

Last summer I had a conversation with a music student who was entering graduate school. His dream was to become a composer. I asked if he could make a living at that. Yes, and he told me about all the opportunities open to him, including writing for the movies. “For a composer,” he said, “it’s the best time to be alive.”

On my “To Read” list is Peter Brannen’s The Ends of the World. I heard him interviewed on the radio. The book is about the five major extinction events Earth has weathered in the past and how we may be facing a sixth. Who can find optimism in such gloom and doom? One statement he made stuck with me: “It’s an interesting time to be alive.” While Science may not have all the answers, new discoveries help us better understand our word and ourselves. He was optimistic that the more we learn, the more opportunity we’ll have to do the right thing.

When I heard a version of the message again within the past week, I failed to note the source, but it pops up so often, I can’t ignore it. If you listen to the news, it seems like we’re on the eve of destruction, but this is not necessarily so.

Trying to improve my health, I watch self-improvement webinars. These gurus acknowledge the ills that beset us: disease, poverty, hate, injustice, yet a common theme keeps coming through: we hold the keys to our own destiny. The darkness that threatens to overwhelm us is only the death throes of the old order. The seeds of a better future are quietly sprouting. We are nearing the dawn of a new age of compassion, cooperation, and love.

It’s a great time to be alive.