Lifetime’s promotional description of the show outlined the challenges the contestants would have to surmount: “Child Genius centers on America’s most extraordinary and gifted children and their families as they prepare for a national intelligence competition. In cooperation with American Mensa, the competition takes place over eight weeks and tests the nation’s brightest young minds on their knowledge of Math, Spelling, Geography, Memory, the Human Body, U.S. Presidents, Vocabulary, Current Events, Zoology, Astronomy and Space, Inventions, Literature and the Arts, Earth Science, and Logic.”
Over the course of the summer, we shot eight episodes. We would bring all the kids out to the Skirball Cultural Center in Los Angeles and film two episodes over four days. The production team created the set and brought everything to the cultural center. There was no rehearsal because it was a reality show and they wanted it as raw as possible, but I did study the questions and pronunciation of the extremely crazy words like “floccinaucinihilipilification,” a multisyllabic word that means “the action or habit of viewing something as worthless.” This was just one example of the vocabulary of these exceptionally talented kids.
I had to be very careful not to show favoritism. I also had to ensure that my response to questions was the same pace for all kids, to avoid protests from parents watching every little thing for signs of an unfair advantage.
Hosting the show introduced me to the terms “helicopter parents” and “tiger moms.” Helicopter parents hover over their children, seemingly taking an excessive interest in every aspect of their daily experience. “Tiger mom” is a phrase popularized by Amy Chua in her book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. Chua, a lawyer and mother of two girls, has written, “I do believe that we in America can ask more of children than we typically do, and they will not only respond to the challenge, but thrive. I think we should assume strength in our children, not weakness.” The parents I encountered during the taping of the show might not have described themselves as “tigers,” but many clearly believed in demanding high achievement from their children. This was compelling to me because it contrasted with the methods of my own mom and dad, who never hovered. They just asked me if I had what I needed to get my work done.
Lifetime was aware of the drama lurking in those family relationships. One commercial proclaimed, “Behind every child genius there’s a driven parent determined to maximize their child’s potential.” The producers kept me isolated from the kids and parents during the off-camera times so there would be no perceived inappropriate relationships. In addition, we had a game compliance person there to make sure nothing was fixed and there were no irregularities because there was $100,000 at stake.
I was nervous when I started because I had never done anything like that before, and after about three minutes on set a bead of sweat would pop on my head and the makeup person would have to come out and pat me down with more powder.
The Shed Media producer was in charge and had the last say on everything. She would sometimes come out and coach me on things they were looking for, or suggest that I say things with a certain inflection. We often did multiple takes of me asking questions like: “Take the number of ribs in the average human and multiply that figure by the two numbers representing Grover Cleveland’s presidencies.” Give yourself a pat on the back if you knew people typically have twelve ribs and Cleveland was the twenty-second and twenty-fourth president and came up with 6,336.
The extra takes enabled them to insert corrective material if I made a mistake. Of course, my goal was to do it in one take, but that didn’t always happen. I’d flub some lines, mispronounce words, or botch a name, and we’d have to shoot the line over again. It was like training in the simulator. You just kept doing it until you got it right.
The studio audience was composed of parents, siblings, family members, and paid fill-ins. I learned to my astonishment that there is an entire industry of people getting paid to go from show to show and sit in the audience. The set had to be deconstructed every week because the location was only rented for the four days. I purchased my own suits but the producers had to approve my shirt and tie combinations before I wore them on camera. We also had to do regular texture tests to avoid the moiré effect in which the high-resolution cameras can make tight, overlapping patterns appear to vibrate.
The work from that summer aired in January 2015. We recorded a second season during the summer of 2015 to air January 2016. I had enjoyed a good measure of public recognition before Child Genius, but being on the show expanded people’s awareness of me even more. Folks really loved the show because it was a positive program that celebrated brainpower instead of brawn or crazy behavior. In the end, however, it seems that more Americans were more interested in seeing Honey Boo Boos and dance moms parade across their screens, and we were canceled after two seasons. Still, I was grateful for the experience and the exposure. I could hardly believe that I had landed a show on national television so soon after I retired from NASA, something I hadn’t expected at all. Once again my journey had confirmed the importance of having a core set of tools to do the job, even if you have no idea where you’re going to end up and what tasks you’ll be required to perform.
Meanwhile, my travels on the lecture circuit also reached liftoff. Over the course of 2014 I did six talks and a couple of cool digital campaigns for The Verge, Flipboard, and Avis. Each of those projects enabled me to use the Internet to introduce my story to a wider audience.
For The Verge, a net-based technology news and media network, I recorded a segment as part of its Chronicles series. It started with images from my youth, including childhood pictures and a photo of me at the high school homecoming game, chasing the touchdown pass, arms outstretched. In my narration I paid tribute to my parents’ invaluable guidance. “I give most of my props to my dad. He was my mentor, my hero,” I said while tracing my path on to college and my early years at NASA before securing what I called “the ultimate gig” as an astronaut. I talked about overcoming the accident that almost cost me my dream and finally getting to see our planet from space. I made sure to encourage viewers to be prepared for serendipity and to stay the course. “Sometimes when you don’t believe in yourself, other people do,” I said, “and they give you a second chance.”
Flipboard bills itself as the world’s first social magazine and combines information from across the web into one central, accessible site. The editors invited me to record a segment for a video series called My Magazine. On the set, I sat on a stool while a crew of techs and photographers shot me from various angles using an array of cameras, lighting grids, backdrops, and monitors. The end result was a high-tech production worthy of Hollywood in which images from my career, views of Earth from the space station, and footage of the shuttle liftoff appeared to whirl within an outline of my body. “We as a civilization are explorers,” my voice-over stated. “We are all educators in some way. We have some knowledge or some skill to give back. It’s what fuels my desire to inspire that next generation of explorers.”
The Avis campaign was called “What Drives You.” Scenes of a car winding along a ribbon through a majestic mountain range dissolved into scenes of me behind the wheel. “I’m on the road probably a couple weeks a month,” my voice intoned. “I love driving. Inside that car is like my own little command module; it’s a place of escape. What drives me is to help that one child who doesn’t believe in his- or herself.” I go on to say, “We have setbacks and we have comebacks. Your comebacks are even sweeter when you stay on the path.”
In each campaign I emphasized the importance of inspiring the next generation of explorers. I continued to address that theme in 2015, during which I gave more than twenty talks. While I spoke at places like the Boys and Girls Club and National 4H, my efforts weren’t solely focused on young audiences. I spoke to corporations, school systems, and places like the National Science Teachers Conference and the U.S. Air Force. Just as I wanted to motivate students, I also wanted to share my story of grit and determin
ation to empower teachers and organizations to rouse their own constituencies, whether they were young people, employees, or members of professional groups and trade organizations.
Conferences and conventions can be loud and bustling scenes. Even so, they can seem as hushed as a library when compared to the BattleBots set. I joined the cast of the ABC show in May 2015, signing on as one of three competition judges. Intense and high-volume, each BattleBots episode begins with pulsing futuristic sounds and a bellowing ring announcer, Faruq. The arena is astir with whirling lights and a roaring crowd that gets even louder when Faruq declares, “It’s robot fighting time!” Welcome to a world “where rocket scientists are rock stars and girls can be more destructive than boys.” Remote-controlled, homemade robots decked out with fighting flippers, powerful hammers, and other weaponry fight to the finish in an arena called the battle box. The winner must win five fights in all, bringing its creators a cash prize and the coveted BattleBots trophy, known as the Giant Nut. When a three-minute battle ends with both bots functioning, the judges choose the winner. Split decisions posed the stiffest challenges for us because we had to decide which bot demonstrated the most aggression, inflicted the most damage, pursued the most effective strategy, and exercised the most control.
BattleBots is the ultimate incarnation of experiential real-world, hands-on STEAM learning. In addition to design skills, the roboticists must employ strategy to modify their machines to be more elusive, aggressive, or maneuverable, depending on what their opponents’ strengths and weaknesses are. The design aspect of each bot allows for an element of showmanship and artistic flair. My fellow judges Fon Davis (a concept designer and model maker for many Hollywood productions) and Jessica Chobot (host of Nerdist News on Nerdist.com) were talented and great to work with. Both Child Genius and BattleBots illustrated the kinds of skills that were critical to my success as an astronaut. The former required book smarts while the latter demanded grit, guts, and street savvy. The unpredictable nature of spaceflight sometimes requires the crew to shift rapidly from one skill set to the other. If the toilet breaks in space, you can’t call the plumber. You have to fix it yourself.
• • •
Alan Ladwig, the emcee at my retirement party, had gone to work for Zero Gravity Corporation before returning to NASA. Zero G uses a specially modified Boeing 727 to create a weightless environment. For a fee, private citizens can book a reservation on the flights and experience zero gravity as the plane executes a series of parabolic arcs. Alan worked at Zero G with an astrophysicist named Maraia Hoffman. He introduced us soon after my retirement party.
Maraia told me about her dream of establishing an extensive facility that would enable citizens to go beyond just experiencing weightlessness to preparing for actual space travel. Her vision intrigued me: “To create a more positive world by enabling people to gain access to space and thereby the Orbital Perspective, which we believe has the power to make a significant impact on our civilization.” I had been given this opportunity to fly and it profoundly changed me. I joined her new venture, Star Harbor Space Training Academy, in June 2014, a few months after retiring from NASA. My good friend and astronaut Ron Garan wrote the book The Orbital Perspective: Lessons in Seeing the Big Picture from a Journey of 71 Million Miles to help codify what we feel as astronauts in space, and he is part of the team. Star Harbor is going to help many get their Orbital Perspective while on the ground.
In the meantime, I continue to share my tale of grit, grace, and second chances. As I travel around the globe, giving speeches and making friends, Jeannette Williamson Suarez’s prophecy is seldom far from my thoughts.
Many things have happened since that day in 2001 when she looked me in the eye and told me about ordeals I’d suffer and victories I’d achieve. I have overcome setbacks and received timely assists from people who saw something in me even when I hadn’t seen it myself. Each act of encouragement, each word of kindness, pointed me toward experiences that only a few can claim. My friends and mentors might not have articulated their vision of my potential as forcefully as Jeannette had done, but in the end their language and deeds had been equally prophetic. Each had helped me rise above my limitations, understand my “why,” defy gravity, and behold our planet in all its rich and complicated splendor. They gave me the fortitude to return and tell my story, my testimony to the world.
• • •
Tonight, Gracie and I sat on the nursing home porch looking up at the pale translucent satellite—a half moon.
“Mom, we should go there because you won’t need your wheelchair.”
“OK,” she said.
“Three days there, three days back, and one to bounce on the surface. A week’s vacation and we’ll be home.”
Mom turned to me, laughed, and said, “Let’s Go.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It has been said that “the two most important days in your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why.”
At thirty-seven years old I was very blessed and thankful for Jeanette Suarez to have the courage to share with me my “why”—to share my testimony with the world. The conversation actually started with “something is going to happen to you.” Those were heavy, almost unbelievable words to hear when I was in the prime of my life, getting ready to reach for the stars. But that five-minute conversation was the driving force behind my writing Chasing Space. There are so many people who’ve helped guide me on this circuitous fifty-three-year journey, and they kept my path full of positivity, grace, and purpose.
I want to thank my agent, Darnell Strom, at Creative Artists Agency, for routinely encouraging me to tell this story. Thanks also to David Larabell for his help in connecting me with the wonderful Tracy Sherrod at Amistad and David Linker at HarperCollins Children’s Books, who both believed in this project from the start. Many thanks to Simon Sinek for many things, but especially for introducing me to Laurie Flynn, who helped get the process started with the proposal. Jabari Asim and Doug Lyons: You helped shape and craft these words, and I appreciate your passion for rich, powerful storytelling.
My family has tirelessly supported me in all my endeavors, no matter how foolish or far out they seemed. Thanks, Mom, Dad, Cat, Allen, Britt, and Ciara. You have always been there for me, and I thank you immensely for your love, encouragement, and support in so many ways. My other family—Louise, Betty, Tom, Chandler, Phyllis, Nanette, Stephanie, Rhonda Ann, Nina, Michael, Branch, Colethia, Cora, Jack, Helen, Anita, Alan, Karen, Harold, Jordon, Renita, Kiera, Geneva, Reggie, Vincent, Arnold, Arnold Jr., Brett, Gregory, Freddie, Rosie, Reen, James, Gladys, Henry, Chanté, and others—I thank you. Thanks for neighbors like the Davises, the Smiths, the Kaines, the Mabrys, the Lynches, the Joneses, the Alexanders, the Brews, the Browns, the Watsons, the Fleshmans, the Bollings, the Powells, and the Saunderses for getting me back on the straight and narrow when I strayed. (Butch, remember you were straying with me.)
Perrymont Elementary educators: Thanks to Principal Carwile, for including me in the sixth-grade class you were teaching algebra to during your break time. That early instruction prepared me for careers in the sciences and in engineering. Educators Sutherland, Bergman, Martin, White, Fowler, Rivers, and others were truly instrumental in my foundational development, and I appreciate your dedication and patience. Stan, Kevbo, Duke, Mike, Butch, Stan W., Rophenia, Brandon, J. W. Charade: You were true friends who helped me stay grounded. Educators at Dunbar Middle—Dot Swain, Leah Ingram, Charlie Dawson, Coach Austin, Cobb, Coach Z, and others—kept the poet in me until this day.
To the Heritage High educators and coaches—I really appreciate you for believing in me. Green, Knight, Storm, Pultz, Gilbert, Farmer, Thomas, Glover, Jones, Hawley, Coleman, Ratliffe, Patterson, Campbell, Pittas, Davis, Switzer, Clarke, Spencer, Mr. Mark, and others, I thank you immensely.
My Jackson Street church family—especially the Williams, the Hutchersons, the Clarkes, the Moselys, and other families—I thank you for helping me keep the faith
through many times of turmoil and strife. Jerome, Thad, Alvin, and Calvin—I really appreciate you letting me try to hang with the cool college guys.
My University of Richmond football family—I really appreciate all you did to help me develop a strong sense of grit as we overcame so many “L”s on the gridiron.
Coach Shealy, Coach Hout, Coach Shannon, Coach Van Arsdale, T-lack, Bobby B. Hasty, Worrel, “Red Shoes” Gray, roomie Dan Fitz, Napole, Billy Starke, Don Miller, Damon, Gary O, Cal Bell, J.B., Joe “Betty,” and the Jarvis receivers—Jeff, Pup, J.C., John Henry, Doug Ehlers, Johnnie E., and K. J.—were all instrumental in helping me understand what it meant to be on a team, especially during the tough times that first year.
I had a really tough start at the University of Richmond, but there were many people who would not allow me to give up. Dr. Myers (Ad Astra)—you and your family have always been there, along with Drs. Clough, Goldman, Bell, and Dominey. I appreciate the lessons that did not pertain just to chemistry but that helped me to learn about life. Dr. Heilman, John Roush, and the other leaders who did not give up on Spider football made it possible for my NFL stint and prepared me for setbacks and success in space. You also allowed me to see there was more to UR than what I had experienced early on. I can really appreciate what the university has become and how it creates leaders who make significant contributions to our world.
Thanks, Allyn and Lyle, for being great sounding boards and friends during the Lions’ camp.
Thanks to my UVA family for helping me get a graduate degree while trying to play in the NFL and believing that I could do both. Glenn Stoner, Ray Taylor, George Cahen, Marlene, and B.J.—you guys kept the notes coming so that I would not get too far behind. To the Killer Bees, thanks for keeping the summers festive—Peggy M., Norwood, Brian, Rodney, Anita, William W., and A.B.C. at the “diss” house.
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