The Colonel said, “Be an optimist – always. Perpetual optimism is a force more powerful than doubt and negativity every time.” While I don’t know if he ever dreamed of being an astronaut, Dad always felt a particular kinship with NASA, which, in his mind, embodied the power of the human spirit.
I remember so clearly – April of 1970 – when Apollo 13 took off from Kennedy Space Center carrying James Lovell, Fred Haise, and Jack Swigert. About two days into the mission, the American public became aware of a problem on board. Three American astronauts in the void of space, and there was a serious problem on board. An oxygen tank had exploded and blown out a large chunk of the command module.
As a family, we watched, we waited, and we followed Walter Cronkite’s updates. So many things could have gone wrong. The crew could run out of oxygen before they reentered the atmosphere. They could run out of water. There could be a toxic build-up of carbon dioxide. There might not be enough power to run the guidance system to get them back to earth. If they missed by a “hair’s breadth,” they would bounce off the earth’s atmosphere and go hurtling into space. The command module may not power up again after being dormant in the frozen void for so many hours. After the explosion and the subsequent cold, the heat shield on the command module could be compromised, which would cause the crew to be overcome upon reentry. There were so many potential catastrophes that it seemed an impossible task to bring them home alive.
I remember my mother pacing back and forth and saying, “That’s it. We’ve lost three more. We lost three on the launch pad (referring to the Apollo 1 fire that took the lives of Gus Grissom, Ed White, and Roger Chaffee), and now we’ve lost three more.”
My father said, “No. We will get them back.” Mom ranted about the odds and cried in grief over lives already lost. Dad kept saying, “NO. We will get them back. This is America, damn it. The best American engineers are on this, and we will find a way to bring them back.”
When the command module entered the Earth’s atmosphere on its return, there was a standard break in radio communications. I think it was usually about three minutes. To this eight-year-old little girl, it seemed like an eternity. My mother muttered and paced. My father stood stock still – rooted to his spot in front of the television – as if by sheer force of his will, he could make it come out alright. When the sound of Commander Lovell’s voice crackled over the airwaves, my father cried. Unabashedly, with tears freely flowing down his cheeks, he said, “You see, I knew we would bring them back. All it takes is ingenuity and willpower.” (I think this was also the moment that solidified Dad’s belief that duct tape can fix anything.)
Is it possible that Dad’s optimism, belief, and positive vibes actually helped bring them home safely? Probably not. But the positivity of the NASA engineers looking for solutions they’d never thought of, combined with millions of optimistic and hopeful people across the globe, might have made a cosmic difference. Even in the worst of possible scenarios, optimism will cause you to look for solutions and find options that pessimism will overlook in defeat.
Be an optimist – always.
Read Lauren’s Whitepaper on The Nine Essentials of Significant Leadership.