To say that Bunny was obsessed
with space travel is about as huge an understatement as I can make. From
childhood, he studied every space flight—U.S. and foreign--and knew minute
details about each one. If anything happened in space, he knew more
about it than any reasonable person should.
Space was one of the interests
that Bunny and I did not have in common.
When we were in the second grade, I was writing protest letters to
President Nixon about the space program cutting into the Saturday morning
cartoon line-up. Hey—Saturday used to
be the only day of the week when
cartoons were on! Meanwhile--a town
away--Bunny was writing letters to astronauts, asking questions and making
suggestions.
Over the years, he met real astronauts
and actors who played astronauts. Once, we went to an event in Atlanta where
several of the Gilligan’s Island stars
were appearing. As we stood before Bob Denver (Gilligan) and I
shook his hand, Bunny raved about his work in Far Out Space Nuts. I’d
never even heard of that show, but Mr. Denver was clearly pleased that someone
knew him for a role other than Gilligan.
For years after, Bunny would brag that he’d made Gilligan say “Wow!”
In the days before cell phones
had cameras—even before everyone had cell phones—Bunny used to keep a
disposable camera in the glove compartment of his vehicle. The
camera wasn’t there in the event that he got into an accident and needed to document
the scene—it was there in case aliens landed anywhere near him. His
plan was to snap photos and then either try to capture an alien or jump onto
the alien ship and fly away. If he
disappeared without a trace, at least the camera would be left behind to show
where he’d gone.
The original Star Trek was his very favorite science fiction show. I’d grown up watching it and enjoying it as
well. “Space, the final frontier…” William Shatner’s
voice would boom from the television, and my sister Julie and I would sit mesmerized
for an hour. Bunny’s love of the show was
extreme; he knew the name, number and plot of every episode of the original
series and of Star Trek, The Next
Generation. Saturday Night Live once did a skit about Star Trek fans (Trekkies) at a convention, and I teased Bunny for
days afterward, because they acted exactly like he did.
Back in 1997, I heard about Celestis--a
company that was sending cremated remains (or cremains, in funeral industry-speak)
into space. The cremains of Gene
Roddenberry—Star Trek’s creator—were on
Celestis’ inaugural flight. Later
flights would launch Roddenberry’s wife, Majel Barrett (Star Trek’s Nurse Chapel) and James Doohan (Chief Engineer
Scott). Long before cancer came calling, Bunny knew
that when his time came, he wanted his cremains on a Celestis flight.
After he died, I sent away to
Celestis for the transport capsule that would take a portion of Bunny’s
cremains to space. I booked him on the
first flight out—in October, 2012. I
even started making plans to go to the launch site—New Mexico—to watch the
launch. About six weeks before the planned
launch, the company notified me of a delay with the NASA approval.
Then, another proposed date came
and went. I wasn’t worried—I knew that, eventually, the
flight would take place. Normally I’m as
impatient as anyone can be, but I just knew that the flight would happen. Some of my friends weren’t so sure, and weren’t
shy about telling me so. Undeterred, I
insisted that Bunny would eventually make it to space.
Finally, about two months ago, I
started getting notices that the flight was set for June 21, 2013. I wasn’t going to get all psyched up again,
but as the date got closer, I grew more excited and optimistic. Yesterday, with no launch cancellation on the
horizon, I posted the flight details on my Facebook status. In no
time, I was flooded with love and support from my friends and family. I was more teary than I’ve been in quite a while,
overwhelmed with the knowledge that Bunny’s fondest wish was finally coming
true.
So now, as I write this post,
Bunny’s cremains are circling the Earth.
He truly has reached the final frontier.
