And the title of my historical novel: Women breaking into aerospace in the 1980s meet men behaving badly.
It's 1984. The space shuttle Challenger is up in orbit. The Reagan administration is beefing up defense to fight the Evil Empire of Communism. And the Satellite Tracking Center, known as the S*T*C, is staffing up to meet those challenges.
Then the old boy network finds itself turned upside down when young professional women, such as Samantha Clark and Rosalind Hart, breach the male-dominated mission control teams inside the S*T*C. In the secrecy demanded in the classified world, how do Sam and Roz cope with men behaving badly? Will the women or the old boys break first?
Christmas 1984 rolls around.
Let's take a peek at the festivities inside the S*T*C.
In particular, the Mission Control Complex (MCC-F) where Sam works as a contractor for Celestia Space Corporation (known as CSC).
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Chapter SIXTY-THREE
The
week before Christmas and counting down to launch, CSC held their annual
Christmas party. Inside MCC-F, the customers, mostly the Air Force, were
invited to CSC’s Christmas lunch buffet in the SCIF.
So,
the feasting began.
Those
at the end of the line were the essential personnel, who had been running real-time
satellite passes at the start of brunch. And when their work was done, nothing
was left. The guests had eaten up the food which was calculated as ample enough
to feed the contractors.
“Great!”
Ned Gaubert on the two-side pouted after finishing a pass. “Our customer…the
Grinch…stole this Christmas!”
“Now,
Ned—” Paul Coleman started his mild scold. Then he saw the injustice of it all.
And PC agreed Ned had a point.
Ned
glared at the GC Randy Rowdy, who had a plate of food.
“Hey,”
Randy mumbled with a mouth full. “You got to look out for Number One, Ned.”
Ned
sneered. “Love your Christmas spirit.”
* * *
The
lunch buffet had cleared out of the SCIF. More fun ahead, it was time for the
crew to open presents from their secret Santas.
Rich
Kerry, tall and thin, wore a red Santa hat and fake white beard. He looked as
incongruous as Christmas in July.
Arye
smiled when he opened up his present from Sam. A customized Jewish Christmas
ornament, crafted from a wooden Star of David, with a fake sprig of holly in
the middle.
“Thanks
for the Messiah-mas ornament,” he said.
“And
I want to show you something.” Sam pulled out a thin book.
“Zlateh
the Goat, by Isaac Bashevis Singer.” Arye looked it over. “My favorite Hanukkah
story. My mother read me this when I was a kid.”
Sam
explained, “An old friend of mine—old as in senior citizen—gave me this when I
was thirteen.”
“For
your bas mitzvah?” Arye grinned.
“My
what?”
“It
would be a bar mitzvah if you were a guy. A bas
mitzvah is when you became a woman.”
“The
gentleman, who gave me this, helped me to grow up a lot. He’d be in his
eighties if he were alive.”
Sam
could see that the book touched Arye as he looked at the cover. “Thanks for
thinking of me this time of the year. It’s not easy being a Jew during
Christmas.”
“Hey,
Jesus was Jewish. He celebrated his bar mitzvah and Hanukah.”
Then
Rich called out the next present. “Rosa Martinez.”
“From
Doug?” Rosa looked apprehensive as she opened the package. “Chocolate colored
bikini underpants? And it says…oh, my—”
Doug
grabbed the card. “I want to eat these panties right off of you, my dear.”
“Of
all the nerve!” Rosa took her present and smacked him hard on the head with it.
Doug
leered back. “More S and M after the party, dear?”
Rosa
smacked him harder—several times—and no one stopped her.
Then
one by one, all the presents were given out.
Sam
asked Rich, “Is there anything…for me?”
Rich
shook his head.
Sam
stood still for the moment. Then she ran off to the women’s room to cry and
pull herself together.
* * *
Frank
Bustamonte was a quiet man. Yet he observed more than he let on. Charles
Sinclair had drawn Sam’s name. And Frank overheard Charles say that he was not
getting anything for that bitch.
Frank
wondered if Charles would have a change of heart. He didn’t.
So
Frank took action. He repackaged his present from Werner, then sent Rosa to get Sam from no-man’s land.
“This
is for you, dear.” Frank presented Sam with her gift.
Rosa
came up with an explanation. “Your present fell behind the file cabinet where
the tree sat. So, Rich missed it.”
Sam
felt ashamed for crying, as she opened the gift of coffee. “This is nice. It’s
from you, Frank?”
Frank
smiled. “Yes, dear.”
“I’m
sorry I misunderstood.”
“Don’t
ever deny your feelings.” Then Frank threw in some cookies from a fan of his
son, the Elvis impersonator. And he said this Elvis had just gotten his
divinity degree so he could do weddings.
“I
thought you might appreciate these.” Gordon Howard presented Sam a few El Chichon Chicos, his pet lava rocks
with smiley faces.
“Thank
you.” Sam looked at her presents, feeling her depression fly away. “These rocks
are so nice. They’ll look so cheerful in our garden.”
“And
I’ve got a garage full of them.” Gordon flashed his yellowed teeth. Then he belted
out a great belly laugh that would outdo any Santa.
It was named after James E. Webb, NASA administrator from 1961 to1968 during the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo programs.
The telescope was a long time in the making, first planned in 1996 and projected for launch in 2007. But cost overruns and delays and a major redesign in 2005 had pushed the completion date to 2016.
And it was actually launched on Christmas of 2021.
The JWST, a large infrared telescope, is being used to study the history of our Universe, such as:
* the first luminous glows after the Big Bang
* the first galaxies formed in the early universe
* the stars forming planetary systems through dusty clouds
* the formation of solar systems capable of supporting life on planets like Earth
* the data to support theories of the evolution of our own Solar System.
As the largest optical telescope in space, its greatly improved infrared resolution and sensitivity allow it to view objects too early, distant, or faint for the Hubble Space Telescope.
But the timestamp from 0 to 86,399 seconds is critical for many technical operations. Such is the case for operations on a Mission Control Team that tracks satellites.
In S*T*C, one of main characters, Sam Clark, with her co-workers John McHenry, Tan Ho, and Enrique Rodriguez, get a tour of the Mission Control Complex on their first day on the job.
Their lead Paul Coleman, also known as PC, introduced to them to the timestamp:
Sam pointed to the large red neon display reading 1984.040:76879 with the lowest digits incrementing.
“And what do those numbers mean?”
“It’s a fancy clock.” PC explained, “Nineteen eighty-four, the year. Forty, the Julian day. That’s February ninth, since it’s been forty days since the New Year. After the colon there, 76891 is the time in seconds.”
PC looked at his watch. “Which is…approximately 2122 in military time. For us civilians that’s 9:22 at night.”
Sam looked puzzled. “But it’s going on 1:30 in the afternoon.”
“Ah!” Paul raised a finger. “But it’s almost 9:30 p.m. in England. And all our times are recorded in Zulu time.”
“Zulu?” Enrique piped up. “Man. I loved that movie. A classic with Michael Caine—”
PC grinned. “Zulu is the phonetic alphabet term for the Zth time zone. It’s the same as Greenwich Mean Time. GMT. Or Universal Time. UT. All the scientists as well as the military use it. Close to shift change…that’s four o’clock in the afternoon here…Pacific Standard Time…the clocks all roll over to quad zero. Or 0000z.”
PC pointed to the red clock. “And that clock will roll over from 040:86399 to 041:00000. A new day.”
“Why 86—” Tan had forgotten the rest of the digits in the five-digit number.
John chimed in, “Because there are 86,400 seconds in a day.”
“But, ah! Except when we have to adjust for the leap second.”
Then PC looked to the senior PA ensconced at an F2 console. “Ned?” he asked. “Will you explain what y’all are doing here?”
“Good question, PC. What am I doing here?”
Then Ned Gaubert gave a quiet sigh and turned around with his mouth askew. “This is called a pass. And it’s not what we make at girls.”
“Good thing.” Sam returned a sidelong smile. “I’m married.”
Smith, S K. S*T*C (pp. 35-36). Kindle Edition.
For a feel of the times, 1984-1986, especially for women breaking into space programs, please feel free to check out:
* Democrat Presidential Candidate Walter Mondale picked Geraldine Ferraro as his running mate, first woman vice president nominated on a main party ticket
* Winter Olympics were held in Yugoslavia (which no longer exists)
* Summer Olympics were held in Los Angelos and up the West Coast and Russia boycotts them
* The major leaders of the Evil Empire, the USSR, (which no longer exists) were dying off
* The Space Shuttle Challenger was flying
* It was the year of George Orwell's--Nineteen Eight-Four
Mike Bonacelli, a regular on swings, came into
work before shift change. Then he handed in his resignation.
“Why, Mike?” Dan looked up from his desk. He
suppressed a smirk, not that disappointed.
Mike’s dark eyes flashed. “I don’t care to get
trapped in the golden handcuffs.”
“Where’re you headed?” Rich looked up from his
desk.
Mike puffed up his chest. “I got an offer from
Apple. Working on Macintoshes—personal computers. It’s the future, where the
big money is.”
“Hey, I saw that awesome Apple ad during last
year’s Super Bowl,” Rich said. “It only aired once though.”
“Yep,” said Mike. “MacIntosh. The most awaited
event of 1984, taking a page from Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. The girl
destroys Big Brother conformity to bring on a future full of new
possibilities.”
“So, you’re leaving this job, defending your
country, for private industry?” Dan grew a grin as fake as the sincerity in his
voice. “All in hopes to be a millionaire?”
“Which is something you lust after, right, Danny
boy?”
“Mike, Mike, Mike.” Dan asked with the taint of
sarcasm in his voice, “Why would you think such a thing?”
Mike lifted his dark eyebrows. “You talk about it
all the time. It’s no secret you just don’t want to be well off. You want to be
rich.”
“You want
to be like me, Dan?” Rich twitched his dark mustache as Dan shook his head.
Smith, S K. S*T*C (pp. 258-259). Kindle Edition.
For a feel of the times, 1984-1986, especially for women breaking into space programs, please feel free to check out:
The space shuttle Challenger is up in orbit. The Reagan administration is beefing up defense to fight the Evil Empire of Communism. And the Satellite Tracking Center, known as the S*T*C, is staffing up to meet those challenges.
...
This was the spirit of the times in my latest book---S*T*C.
Below is a recording of then-Governor Reagan's speech given at the 1964 Republican Convention that nominated Barry Goldwater. The visuals are updated to reflect the continuing struggle since then.
Yet in 1984, the Cold War was at an inflection point as the former USSR would soon fall apart and the Iron Curtain would be coming down.
Likewise more paradigm shifts rocked society, especially the S*T*C as...
The old boy network finds itself turned upside down when young professional women, such as Samantha Clark and Rosalind Hart, breach the male-dominated mission control teams inside the S*T*C. In the secrecy demanded in the classified world, how do Sam and Roz cope with men behaving badly? Will the women or the old boys break first?
This fictional historical novel gives a personal feel of the struggles many women faced with a touch of humor in the mix. It's not all black and white. Not all women were angels. Neither all men Neanderthals.
S*T*C is available as a paperback, kindle, kindle unlimited. (Links below)
continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure, or opposition : the action or condition or an instance of persevering : STEADFASTNESS
These qualities capture the essence of the latest NASA mission to Mars. Thomas Zurbuchen, the associate administrator of the agency's Science Mission Directorate, explained:
"Yes, it's curiosity that pulls us out there, but it's perseverancethat does not let us give up."
"We choose to go to the moon," the president said. "We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too."
When I orbited the Earth in a spaceship, I saw for the first time how beautiful our planet is. Mankind, let us preserve and increase this beauty, and not destroy it!
Back to the future, 50 years later, these still are troubled times.
As we finish the year 2018, words from a hymn, This is My Father's World come to mind. And the last verse, not always included in other renditions, gives the reason we celebrate the birth of the Savior of the world:
This is my Father’s world:
Oh, let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world,
The battle is not done:
Jesus who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heav’n be one.
And in the closing words of astronaut Frank Borman:
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