Watching rockets soar raises hopes for unbounded future
On a winding road east of Stockton, we caught sight of the narrow plume rising high into the sky. We craned our necks, peering through the windshield with excitement.
Our family was on its way to a model rocket launch hosted by LUNAR, the Livermore Unit of the National Association of Rocketry, staged in the rolling hills and pastures of a cattle ranch. Although Didi had received a kit for Christmas 2020, it took us a while to figure out where and when we could legally launch the bright-red rocket. The answer was this event — complete with other enthusiasts, novice and veteran, who brought along their creations.
It turns out that launching model and high-power rockets is the perfect pandemic activity: wide-open spaces, fresh air and the awe-inspiring sight — and sound — of one rocket after another bolting up, up, up into the brilliant blue.
“Oh … oh, my gosh!” Didi shouted after a rocket zoomed out of sight, trailing dark smoke, sparkling with glitter, filling the air with the scent of charcoal and sulfur. “I can see why people love model rockets. It’s insane!”
I stared upward. “Where is it?” I asked.
It had disappeared momentarily out of view until the irresistible pull of gravity reversed its trajectory. My twin sons dashed toward each rocket as it drifted on its parachutes. Some dropped straight down, while others were carried aloft on the breeze, twirling as they descended before eventually plunking down. Most were sleek rockets, but others took a playful approach: a less than aerodynamic one in the shape of the TARDIS — a time machine and spacecraft, modeled after a policeman’s booth in the “Doctor Who” television series — as well as one shaped like a purple Crayola crayon.
Unlike New Year’s Eve fireworks canceled around the world because of the omicron surge, visitors that day enjoyed a spectacle that lasted for hours. After a glum week of news about the variant’s impact on schools, work and travel — on everything — I reveled in a chance to forget our present circumstance and instead marvel at the ingenuity and hard work of the rocketeers, who were a range of ages and backgrounds: from children in elementary school like my sons to college students and other adults.
The launch master behind the control panel also served as an announcer, his descriptions hypnotic and as soothing as a baseball game’s play-by-play.
“Apogee and there’s the event,” he would say, referring to when the rocket reached its greatest height, followed by a parachute getting blown out of the nose cone. “We have smoke, we have puffs … a beautiful flight just below the clouds.” After a rocket failed to lift off but spewed clouds of smoke — drawing amused applause — he said, “It doesn’t count as a successful launch but counts as successful entertainment.”
My husband felt nostalgic throughout, remembering how he built model rockets with 4-H in elementary school and with his friends in junior high.
But rocketry is in our future too. In the past year, billionaires blasting off on Blue Origin, Virgin Galactic and SpaceX reflect a renewed interest in space, even among those who can’t afford a ticket up yet. Events like Saturday’s launch help educate and foster that passion for the heavens and what lies beyond our earthbound existence.
Afterward, we stopped by Wat Dhammararam, a Cambodian Buddhist temple in a residential neighborhood in southeast Stockton. Established in 1982 by refugees, the peaceful temple grounds feature more than 90 gorgeous, brightly painted statues depicting the life of Buddha, including a 50-foot-long reclining Buddha.
Launching model and high-power rockets is the perfect pandemic activity: wide-open spaces and the aweinspiring sight of one rocket after another bolting up.
We told Didi and Gege about how my husband proposed to me at dawn on the grounds of Angkor Wat.
Our family hasn’t ever traveled that far together — and probably won’t for a long while — but the visit reminded us of what wonders we might find in our backyard and the possibilities we hope will return someday.