Читать книгу That Wasn’t the Plan - Reg Sherren - Страница 30

Through it all, Pam was a real trooper. Her coming to Newfoundland was a big ask, a huge ask. She had put her own successful career on hold, not to mention that apartment by the beach in Kitsilano, Vancouver (I know if I don’t mention it, she will).

Other friends were getting married, having children. I had stalled long enough. But I guess we both knew that if we were going to figure it out, we would have to be in the same province, same city, and yes, the same house.

We figured it out.

In the fall of 1989, we were married. October 7 was a beautiful day in Brigus, Newfoundland, almost as beautiful as the bride herself. Twenty-two degrees with barely a cloud in the sky. We were married in the Anglican Church down by the sea, and we never looked back.

Pam was now getting some part-time work at the CBC and things were rolling right along. At the CBC Christmas party that year, we won the big prize, a trip for two to South America. (They knew how to throw a party in Newfoundland!) Then in January we learned we were going to have a baby. It appeared that 1990 was going to be quite a year.

We decided, considering the pregnancy, South America wasn’t a good idea, so we opted for Florida instead. There we were in February, lying on St. Pete Beach, when I heard on the radio that the space shuttle Atlantis was to be launched that evening. I said to Pam, “I think I’ll go.” She chose to stay on the beach and off I went. Driving to the Kennedy Space Center in our rental car, I realized I needed a plan (finally). I decided the plan should be not just to watch the launch, but to get up close and personal. I pulled into a Kmart and picked up a notepad as well as a small cassette tape recorder.

What a beautiful day! What a lucky guy. Pam and I make a run for it after our lovely reception, with some delicious wedding cake in tow.

As I was nearing the Cape Canaveral Air Force Station, I spotted a local television van up ahead and decided to follow it. It took me right to the main security gate and media security. In I walked with my handy Kmart recorder and my driver’s licence, announcing I was from the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and I had arrived to cover the launch of the space shuttle. They said I would need some way to prove I was there for work. “What do you require?” I asked, and was told that a fax from my office confirming my assignment should do it. I went outside to the phone booth on the corner and called the St. John’s newsroom collect. Producer Kevin Norman answered the phone. I said, “Kevin, can you get a piece of paper with our CBC logo on it and fax a message to this crowd here at the Kennedy Space Center saying I’m on assignment?”

“Lord Jesus, Reg, what are you up to now?” Kevin said.

“No big deal,” I replied. “Can you do it?”

Twenty minutes later, the fax arrived, and I was in. Can you imagine attempting that today? No passport, no media ID, just a cassette recorder, a driver’s licence and a fax from the newsroom. It was even more incredible when you consider it was also a highly secretive defence department flight mission. I guess I didn’t come across as much of a threat. I drove into the compound. CBS, ABC and CBS all had buildings on site. F-18s were buzzing overhead as I stood down by the big digital clock, the one they always show on TV, with the shuttle lit up a few kilometres in the distance.

As I stood there with newspaper reporters from the Wichita Eagle and the Tallahassee Democrat, the digital clock started to count down. Then, at T minus 31 seconds, the mission was scrubbed because of weather.

After that, technicians drained liquid oxygen from the big bomb they didn’t get to light up. All that manoeuvring and I didn’t get to see the big show. When I got back to my vehicle, it and every other car in the lot was covered with a fine white powder. A paper under the windshield warned not to use water to get rid of it, but only to wipe it off with a dry cloth. Who knows what exactly that stuff was. Good thing it didn’t rain. I did call the newsroom in Toronto and offered to file a report, but because the mission was scrubbed, they told me to forget it.

Several years later I did get to watch the shuttle Atlantis launch in all its glory. This time it was from the city of Titusville, Florida. I took my son, the same little fellow we were pregnant with back in 1990. It was quite a sight, standing along the shoreline with thousands of others. People were crying, singing and praying as Atlantis blasted through the sky and into space.

Decades after that I would be lucky enough to spend some time with Roberta Bondar, Canada’s first woman in space. But more on that later.