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A Purposeful Life
- The University of Alabama Press
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A Purposeful Life Mitzi Adams As a young girl, I enjoyed picking blackberries, fishing for bream, watching the real stars . . . and the man-made ones. I’d spend hours relaxing on the warm asphalt of the road that went by the Sweats’ cabin at Lake Lanier. I was quite safe there (except perhaps for the odd venomous snake), since there was little traffic on that road in the sixties and probably even now. But during those times, because the population of Atlanta was only about 200,000 and relatively far away, when the Sun went down, it was very, very dark and if we so chose, the only lights were from the fireflies (we called them lightnin’ bugs). So, the stars were bright and many, the Milky Way was bright and easy to see, the planets were easy to spot, and the Moon . . . the Moon was incredible. Sometimes against the black background of space, I’d see those odd tracks across the sky that disappeared into the shadow of the Earth. Satellites, they were called, satellites that had the potential to watch what we were doing, to drop bombs on us, or to monitor the weather, to determine the productivity of farmland, to discover remnants of ancient civilizations, or other parameters 168 • adams of our environment. I even saw Explorer I, the United States’ first satellite, data from which confirmed the existence of the Van Allen radiation belts. At this time in my life, I hardly imagined that I would later meet and become friends with one of the men who pushed the button that put that satellite into orbit. Watching these points of light traverse the sky, I saw the potential to explore, the potential for the human species (and especially this one individual) to move off planet Earth. Although my generation was faced with the possibility of destruction by atomic bomb and thoughts of global destruction were frequent, I imagined that through space exploration, we might just possibly preserve our species (and the other species that inhabit Earth), and that we would someday expand into the solar system and the universe. Watching Star Trek IN COLOR was a real treat and a good reason for me to stay in the good graces of the Sweat family. After watching Star Trek at the Sweats’ house on Lake Lanier, I’d sometimes take out their small-refracting telescope to look at the Moon and the planets. The next day I’d create my own space-exploration stories. As I walked about the shoreline of Lake Lanier, I fantasized that I was abducted by the crew of the Enterprise. Of course, I would be the intern of Mr. Spock; my best friend, Cindy Winstead, would be the intern of Captain Kirk. I fantasized that the crew of the Enterprise thought I was worthy enough to be part of the crew . . . and they took me (us) away with them. At this point in my life, I was about thirteen and a major event occurred: my parents divorced. I suspect that the divorce of my parents was a great influence on the development of my philosophy of life, as was reading books by Ayn Rand, Kahlil Gibran, and others. The independence of the women in Ayn Rand’s books appealed to me. Gibran’s philosophy espoused in The Prophet gave me comfort and an understanding, perhaps, of one reason my parents could not get along. About marriage, he said, “Love one another, but make not a bond of love; / Let [18.234.55.154] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 19:46 GMT) a purposeful life • 169 it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.” My mother’s “bond of love” probably drove my father away from her. As most thirteen-year-olds do, I thought a lot about life, the universe, and everything. While a baby with no choice, I was christened as a Presbyterian and, through my youth, attended McElroy Memorial Presbyterian Church on Clairmont Road in Chamblee, Georgia. Around the age of twelve, though, I began visiting other churches. My parents laid down only two constraints: no visiting Catholic churches, no visiting Jewish “churches.” My neighbor down the street was Baptist, so I visited his church. I didn’t like it. As a ballet and tap dancer, I really didn’t fit in there, since many Baptists frown on dancing. Another friend was Methodist, so I visited her church. I liked that one and joined the Methodist...