A Brief Conversation

Eight-year-old Billy sat on a counter stool in the local diner where his grandfather worked as a short-order cook. He was finally tall enough to eat his pie at the counter instead of sitting at a booth. In Billy’s mind, this shift of location signified a rite of passage. Truckers, factory workers, police officers, and even men in suits sat at the counter discussing grown-up things. Now he could at least be close enough to hear what they talked about.

Many of the conversations he overheard troubled him. It was 1958, and the hot topics always revolved around Russia, nuclear bombs, and a struggling economy — whatever that was. A new topic had the diner patrons all abuzz this cold February afternoon. Explorer 1, the first successfully launched U.S. satellite, was in orbit. Now, this was a subject Billy could talk about. He was a big fan of satellites, rockets, and anything to do with actual space travel, not the Buck Rogers comic book stuff.

Instead of sitting quietly, listening to the adults talk around him, Billy started conversations about the launch and what might come next. Most of the men at the counter smiled and replied with a courteous, “Yup, that was really something,” or, “Maybe you’ll go to the moon someday, Billy.” No one really seemed to take him seriously.

There was a lull in customers, and Billy found he was in the diner all by himself when the door opened, and a middle-aged gentleman entered. The man, dressed in a suit and topcoat, took a seat one space away from Billy. He rubbed his hands together, gave an exaggerated whole-body shiver, and said in accented English, “Sure is cold today, don’t you think?” The boy was both surprised that such a well-groomed man would take the time to speak to him and pleased that he had.

“Yes, sir, it sure is, but not as cold as it is in space where Explorer 1 went.” Billy wasn’t sure why he added that last part, except that he enjoyed talking about the satellite.

The man smiled at the boy’s refreshing enthusiasm over the fledgling space program. It was refreshing to see someone so young find his calling so early in life. He continued the conversation by probing Billy’s knowledge of rockets, the solar system, and flying. The longer they spoke, the more intrigued the man became with Billy and his knowledge of space. The young boy’s enthusiasm about space rivaled his own. A waitress interrupted the exchange and took the man’s order. The gentleman’s food arrived soon afterward, and Billy went back to his pie and soda. The man finished his meal, paid his tab, and rose to leave. He turned to Billy and said, “Here is my card. Once you finish university, if you still love space as much as you do now, contact me.” He left the diner, and Billy put the card in his pocket.

Bill never discussed this meeting with family or friends. During his final year of college, the science department was pleased to announce a guest lecturer, and Bill made sure to attend. His college major was astrophysics, so this was one lecture he wasn’t about to miss. When the lecture finished, he pushed and squirmed his way to the front of the crowd surrounding the man.

“Excuse me, sir, I believe this belongs to you.” In Bill’s outstretched hand was a business card. The man took the card, looked at Bill, and said, “It’s nice to see you again, my boy. Are you still interested in space?”

“Thanks to you, Mister Von Braun, more than ever.”