I had planned to pick apart the dark side of American consumerism which I have lately experienced, however, as I wolfed down my Lucky Charms this morning, satisfied by the novelty of it all, I read something which made me feel a small sense of awe at our world and pushed my English cynicism to one side – The Economist’s obituary, devoted to Neil Armstrong.
His real fame was somewhat before most of our times, but there is something so admirable in his commitment and the sense of adventure he instilled upon the space race, that his impression will be lasting. He managed to mute the endless political backstabbing of the Cold War confrontations and give a human face to something that had previously been associated with money and power. And isn’t that the beauty of it? Here is a man who was simply fascinated by the pleasures of physics and nature, ending his life in an isolated farm in Ohio, flying guilders, still holding on to the seductive force of exploration.
Despite losing this human face, the world has moved on to a robotic one. Nasa’s latest brain-child, Curiosity, is making its way through the craters and mountains of Mars, looking for conditions which would allow humans to impose further upon the galaxy. He kick-started the rocket of discovery upon which we have now firmly embarked.
This natural human thing, the need to explore, begins in the very first steps of childhood, the first time we empty our Mother’s purse or build a den out of tree leaves. And it’s a feeling I have so easily been able to reconnect with since arriving here. The one thing America has that makes it so distinct is space. Not in a galactic, star-gazing sense, but a physical one. This is a feeling I have yearned for, vast open roads, huge sprawling and dark woods with eternal trees, whispering the secrets of their past lives to accompany the crickets. And if nothing else, this sense of space allows a reconnection to our own planet, a greater understanding of its beauty. You only have to look around the Quad as the sun spills down like liquid gold to realize the potential of a day. In England, I cannot recall the sky being so awesomely dominating.
America has long been known for its obsession with progress, and I can see why. The natural potential of its own landscape makes even me, a girl untrained in any Girl Scout skills or vital survival techniques, want to take off into the distance and see what is out there. In a way, that’s why I’m here.
Of course, we can sometimes veer from the path of innocent discovery. Since my arrival, I have been experiencing withdrawal symptoms from my daily fix of the BBC. Relatively pure and relevant news. The first headline I encountered on American TV regarded a dog and some miraculous change to its hair. I wasn’t paying much attention. American media is full of advertisements for products I’m positive have no target market. On the radio this morning, a woman’s voice blared out, offering me the chance to buy a ‘cell phone cage,’ for those parents who are simply fed up with their children using their phone at the dinner table. Then there’s the endless indoctrination of obscure religious groups offering their services and, of course, the Republican rabble continually telling me how to act in the case of getting pregnant. Media here is certainly a little different from home. But despite space being full of these satellites, beaming down to let me know that I can buy a new or used car at a store near me, it also houses the endless opportunity of the human race. It represents the scope of our capabilities. The very fact that we have made it up there displays the opportunities we hold in a single hand.
Space and its secrets are slowly being revealed, but what Neil did most was ensure that we had a greater appreciation for our own world. Here, on the stone steps of the house of books, I gaze into the blue beyond, and here, I feel, it is within reach.
