CARDBOARD SPACESHIPS
Back in 1957, when I was four years old, I felt bad that Canada was lagging
behind the Soviet Union in the space race and wanted to do my part. So I named
our cat Sputnik and went on adventures orbiting our bungalow in my Radio Flier.
I knew from pictures of Chimpmanaughts that Space helmets were needed so I "improvised"
by emptying the goldfish bowl. I had not been around "Mother Earth"
for one orbit with that goldfish bowl on my head when I noticed my Oxygen supply
was rapidly depleting. If it hadn't been for Sputnik running into the house
and alerting my mother I might have perished. I can still see the back fins
of the goldfish hanging out of the cat's mouth. (My mother, who was very strict
with manners, forgot to admonish the cat with her usual "Don't yell with
your mouth full!")
Anyhow the Fire trucks came with the firemen carrying their big sledge hammers
and pick axes and I thought for sure my head would be pulverized like a grape
in a vice if they used them on me. (You can imagine how scary that looked with
the goldfish bowl distorting my perspective.) They managed to extract the goldfish
bowl manually just in time.
Later on my father, who was a tireless worker at Goodyear, lectured me on the
dangers of "home-made" spacesuits. My mother took me to the Five and
Dime the next day and bought me a turtle that came with a round clear plastic
dish with a ramp and a green plastic palm tree. She probably thought I wouldn't
get that "terrarium" stuck on my head.
My quest to propel Canada into the space race did not end there. My brother
and I collected discarded cardboard refrigerator boxes and would use them as
"stages" of rockets. We used to drag them behind our tricycles across
the train tracks, which were a block away from our house. An earthen mound elevated
the railroad so we set up our launch pad on the far side hoping no one would
steal them.
At the height of our mission we had a total of 17 boxes lined up, enough to
propel us to the moon and back four times!
My brother and I would get into arguments over the orientation of our spaceship.
I wanted it to be vertical but Kim (that's my brother's name) said the wind
would blow it over, and moreover — if we did get all the boxes stacked
up — it would be seen from the town and someone would steal it and commandeer
it to other planets it was not designed to go to. Deep inside I knew that a
square spaceship would never get off the ground so I let him have his way not
wanting to burst his bubble.
My desire to propel Canada did not end until I reached "High" school.
The culmination of our "homegrown" space race was when we scrumptiously
assembled a life-size mock up of a 747 with a shuttlecraft on top on a runway
at the Royal Canadian Airport in downtown Toronto. It never occurred to my brother
that a spaceship riding piggyback on a 747 would only transport the shuttle
to another airport and not the moon. But again, I didn't want to burst his bubble.
TODDLING ASTRONAUT
My radio flyer — it is bright red
It's orbiting my bungalow
The big dogs can't lick my face
Cause I wear a goldfish bow
I'm a toddling astronaut in space
And I sure miss the human race
My diapers on number two
Think I need a change of pace
II wonder what real spacemen do
If they have to go in space
Through asteroid rocks again
Take this helmet off my head
Think I need some Oxygen
Hope the fish aren't getting dead
Somebody call my flight engineer
This goldfish bowl is really stuck
Oh good my mommy's here
With the sirens and a fire truck
I've learned my lesson well
Don't put plastic on your face
And concerning those homemade spacesuits
Well just don't trust them in outer space
© 1997 Stefan des Lauriers