No Dream Is Too High - Buzz Aldrin Page 0,37
“abort guidance” system to bring the Eagle into proper alignment for docking with the Columbia.
Neither Neil nor I said anything about our potentially mission-destroying goof, although I’m sure the rendezvous experts at Mission Control in Houston knew what had happened. They were probably going nuts as they watched their computer screens. They graciously didn’t squeal on us. Maybe they thought, Well, Buzz is Dr. Rendezvous. Surely, he knows what he is doing.
Once we corrected our docking plans, the rendezvous occurred just as I had imagined it years earlier when I had developed my theories and techniques for manned spacecraft rendezvous. It was picture-perfect. Four hours after Neil and I left the lunar surface, I heard one of the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard—the latches locking shut as Mike threw the switches inside the command module to secure the Eagle to the Columbia. The three of us were together again, and soon we’d be on our way home.
You may not always be right; you may not always win, but you won’t know if you don’t try, and you won’t have a chance to win if you don’t take the shot. Make a decision; if it is wrong, correct it if possible, learn from it, and move on. But whatever you do, don’t allow the fear of failure to paralyze you.
Yes, failure is always an option. You may fail at times; you may fall flat on your face. But get back up, brush off the dust, and keep pushing the boundaries; keep pushing yourself to go outside your own comfort zone. Don’t allow mistakes, disappointment, rejection, or failure to define you. Despite your flaws, flub-ups, or failures, don’t let “disappointment” or “rejection” be the final words.
When I was a high school student, I aspired to become a Rhodes scholar and to attend Oxford University in England. To me, that was the epitome of academic achievement. I applied twice but wasn’t accepted as a Rhodes scholar, so I went on to West Point and later to MIT instead, where I received my master’s degree and continued with my doctoral studies. I completed my doctoral thesis on the subject of “space rendezvous.” That failure to become a Rhodes scholar made all the difference in the world for me and for a lot of other people.
Recently, I was in England and had the opportunity to visit Oxford. I smiled as I thought of myself as a jolly old English academic. My life, and perhaps America’s space program, may have been dramatically different had I not failed to become a Rhodes scholar.
Disappointments come at every age and at every level of success. For instance, I was disappointed after the successful mission of Apollo 11, when I was not appointed as commandant of the Air Force Academy in Colorado. That was a position in which I felt I could thrive.
Shortly after Neil, Mike, and I completed a world tour following Apollo 11, we met with President Richard Nixon at the White House for a private dinner. The president asked each of us what we’d like to do in the future. “I know you’ve been talking with Secretary Rogers,” he said, looking at Mike, “about a position with the State Department.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike agreed. “I’m looking forward to that.”
I was a bit surprised when Neil answered the president’s query about his future plans. “I’d like to stay with NASA for a while,” Neil said, “and maybe work in the aeronautics department.” I was somewhat surprised that the first man ever to walk on another celestial body did not want to work in the space program, but wanted to return to aviation. I didn’t fault him for that. Neil had always loved being a test pilot.
When the president turned to me and asked about my future plans, I didn’t know what to tell him. I was thinking about returning to the Air Force. As an astronaut who had walked on the Moon, I could see myself as a motivator and a role model for young airmen at the Air Force Academy, and that position appealed to me. But for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to suggest it to President Nixon. I guess I should have, because by the time I asked to be released from NASA to return to the Air Force in June 1971, the position of commandant of the Air Force Academy was already filled by the son of the legendary Air Force general Hoyt Vandenberg.
Instead, I was offered a position at Edwards Air Force Base