Bringing Home Sam

The last days of June were unusually hot, although I really didn't mind the heat as I spent most of my free time in the water. Learning to surf Cocoa Beach Florida at the sweet age of 53 was out of the ordinary, but I was quite the un-ordinary guy. Ron Jon’s surf shop had come to know me well in the past year as this was my usual hangout on any given weekend before I would head to the local beach.

My background up until a year ago was in the space program. My business card read Commander K. 'Papa' Pennebaker/Shuttle Commander/ NASA Flight Program Coordinator. I had flown missions out of Cape Kennedy with the shuttle program dating back to the 1980’s, and most recently held the position of officer in charge of new recruits indoctrinating into the astronaut program. Flying by the seat of my pants was what I really enjoyed, but working with the ‘new blood’ coming into the flight program gave me a great sense of satisfaction. I had decided recently that I had done all I could do and had seen it all, so last July I met with my good friend and supervisor, Wally Hunt, and told him of my plans to retire. It was time I thought to start thinking about a new life, and enjoy the fruits of my labor. If I had prepared the new recruits thoroughly I could leave the program without any reservation. That is when my cell phone rang.

“Papa, it’s Wally. We need you at the Cape. We have a Galactic Code 4.” As soon as his words were transmitted to my cell I was in my car and heading toward Cape Kennedy. I passed by security and drove straight to Building 1. That's where Wally was waiting with the news.

“It looks bad Papa. Sam has gotten herself into a real nasty situation. She was flying her first solo mission to Jupiter. While maneuvering though the Van Allen belt, her craft was struck by a meteorite. Our sensors indicate her oxygen pressure is very low. We believe it’s only a matter of time until she runs out of breathable oxygen, and then …well you know what that means.”

Sam was the top cadet that had come through the astronaut training program under my direction. She was a summa cum laude grad from UC Berkeley with a double major in physics and aerospace studies. She made it through the space program despite having two young children to take care for, and the death of her namesake Grandmother Natividad. Her hard work and professionalism impressed me above all the other students I had instructed. After she graduated the program at NASA we became good friends, and she even once took me to her favorite coffee house and also introduced me to her Mother's Filipino cooking. “What do you need me to do Wally? I’m in. I’ll do anything for Sam.”

“Papa, NASA needs you to go back into space and rescue Sam. Do you think you can do it? Can you reach into your gut and pull out the courage to fly again?” “Just show me the way to the launch pad Wally. The surf can wait a day or two; I’ve got a rendezvous with Sam.”

Wally and the pre-launch crew led me to the hangar where I was introduced to the Lapin Blanc. A prototype rescue craft, small, two-seater, white, sleek, awesome. “Why the name Lapin Blanc, Wally?” "It's French for White Rabbit", Wally replied. "A quick rescue vehicle developed in collaboration with the French Space Administration for just this purpose. This craft flies like a Ferrari with its two twin Kretchmar solid fuel booster rockets."

“What do you think Papa? Can you can fly it?” “For Sam, hell yeah I can... start the countdown!” “Countdown starts in 1 hour Papa, better suit up. Sam needs you.”

After a quick two fingers of tequila in the preparation room, and getting into my flight suit I was ready. I was going to bring Sam home in one piece or my name wasn’t Papa K.

3,2,1 blastoff. My body pushed back onto the leather seat of the sleek white rabbit as it rocketed through the clouds and within seconds blue turned to dark black space. As the twin Kretchmars disengaged I could see stars through the heads up display and I could feel myself go weightless. It had been years since I had experienced weightlessness, and now I understood why surfing appealed to me. It was that same kind of feeling.

My rendezvous with Sam would be in an hour as I familiarized myself with the robotic arm that I would use in pulling her to the Lapin.

Out of the dark Sam’s craft came into view. I could see it had been struck by space debris, as it wobbled out of control and gaseous vapor spewed from its port side. I sent a message to Sam by radio and was successful upon the first attempt. “Sam, it’s Big Papa K. I’m here to take you home.”

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard her beautiful voice. “How did you know where to find me Big Papa?” “I listened to your guardian angel Natividad. She showed me the way. Now let’s get the hell out of here and back to Karen and Mikey, what do you say?” As I grabbed her with the Lapin's robotic arm and pulled her inside the two seater she took a deep breathe of fresh oxygen and then smelled the coffee. “Yeah, I brought you one. It's a caff'e caramel macchiato from Peets. You didn’t think I would forget, did you?” We had both reconnected after all this time. Sam was still the bright Filipina Berkeley girl I had come to admire. The one who first gave me the name ‘Big Papa K’, the name that had stuck.

As we re-entered earth’s atmosphere, the sky was colored an unusual flush apricot sway. At that moment I turned to Sam and said, “You remember the song? Our song from long ago? Wanna sing it again?" We both laughed and started singing that silly song I wrote about my trip out to California to visit her once. As our little white Lapin sliced through the clouds, Cape Kennedy's runway came into view.

Filipino pride, Filipino pride...
Going back to earth in my little white ride.
Top down crusin' here comes the mornin' sun.
Becha I’ll be brown before this trip is done…

to be continued.....