Gabby_ A Story of Courage and Hope - Alison Hanson [52]
It was especially thrilling for me to watch Gabby fall in love with the space program. My enthusiasm became hers and hers became mine. Her district had many connections to space research, from the local astronomy culture to the University of Arizona’s lead role in the Phoenix Mars Mission, which studied the history of water in the Martian arctic’s icy soil.
In her congressional career, Gabby turned out to be both a geeky policy wonk and great advocate, serving as chair of the House Subcommittee on Space and Aeronautics. Again and again, she spoke about the benefits of space exploration, and about the need to continue an ambitious and coherent national space policy. She could be tough, angry, and exasperated when NASA and its funders in government lost sight of the lofty goals of the nation’s earliest space pioneers. In congressional hearings, she never minced words.
At one hearing regarding NASA’s uncertain future, in February 2010, she pointed to a proverb on the wall behind her: “Where there is no vision, the people perish.”
“These words,” she said, “are as true today as when our forefathers undertook a voyage of discovery, when they landed on this continent and founded America as a city upon a hill, a beacon of light for the future world. . . . Our job as servants of the people, as members of this subcommittee, is to allow our scientists, our engineers, our researchers, our visionaries to be as bold in this undertaking as our faculties will allow.”
Some of Gabby’s advocacy efforts were rooted in her understanding of me. She knew the grittiest details of my trajectory from directionless kid in New Jersey to military pilot to shuttle commander. Understanding how my dreams came true, she often thought about the young people today who deserve a chance to be the next generation of explorers. At that 2010 hearing, she said: “My concern today is not numbers on a ledger, but rather the fate of the American dream to reach for the stars. Should we falter, should we slip, should we let our dreams fade, what will we tell our children?”
In the months after Gabby was shot, I’d think back to how she was always such an eloquent idealist. She had a contagious enthusiasm and a true gift for encouraging others, including me. And now, sadly, she had no choice but to focus on herself, to hope she’d again be able to master the simplest tasks.
When I’d feel disheartened about all of this, it was helpful for me to think about Gabby kneeling beside Dr. Hawking, patiently waiting for his words to come. I may have rocketed into lower Earth orbit, but he had explored the entire universe from his wheelchair.
Maybe big dreams were still possible—for me, for Gabby, and for our life together.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Baby Steps
By late March, almost three months after Gabby was injured, she had graduated to more complex tasks in speech therapy. For instance, rather than just trying to identify and say words she saw in a series of photos, she was asked to think more deeply about what was going on in the pictures.
In one session, her speech therapist, Angie, showed Gabby a photo of an envelope about to be mailed. It had an address on it. “What is missing from this letter?” Angie asked.
Gabby brought the photo close to her face. She read the recipient’s address on the envelope. “Kansas,” she said.
“Yes, the letter is going to Kansas,” Angie answered. “But what is missing?”
Gabby studied the photo. She didn’t know what was missing, so Angie told her. “It’s missing a stamp. What will happen if an envelope is mailed and has no stamp on it?”
There was no response from Gabby. Maybe she knew and couldn’t find the words. Maybe she didn’t know. Angie moved on.
The next photo showed a motorcyclist. “What’s missing?” Angie asked.
It seemed like Gabby knew the answer, but her word choice wasn’t exactly right. “Medical. Medical,” she said, waving her left hand over the photo.
“It could