Basically unbeknownst to us, until a crash makes headlines, there are hundreds of folks in the Mojave desert who have dedicated their lives to figuring out how we might, in the future, live ours in space, or at least, take casual, mind-blowing jaunts up there: Space Tourism. Current-me at kitchen table with coffee, feet on the ground, does not quite see the appeal, but when it comes to defying gravity, I am not the world’s most curious person. Thinking and reading this morning about Michael Alsbury, the 39 year old father of two who was killed Friday in a rocket test flight. This guy was incredible. Focused, driven. I forget how amazing it is that there are people born with a laser- focused interest in one particular thing, be it bees or rocks or air, a thing that demands exploration so that life might continue. Alsbury got his pilot’s license at 16, had been flying for the company for 23 years. Whenever a plane crashes, experts learn things from the crash which ultimately saves future lives, so this guy’s life, be it short, is forever validated. I hope that’s comforting to his family, and that 50 years from now, when the first Space Grand Central opens, complete with scarf kiosks / donut stores, it bears his name. RIP.