No Dream Is Too High

• CHAPTER EIGHT • PRACTICE RESPECT FOR ALL PEOPLE.

Differences in race, religion, politics, sexual orientation, or other barriers that seem to divide some people have never greatly affected my regard for another person. My son Andy jokes that to me there are only two kinds of people in this world—those who are interested in space, and those who aren’t. Andy is not far from wrong, but he’s not quite right, either.

None of us has a right to be a snob, regardless of who you are or what you have accomplished. No human being has a license to be disrespectful to another person. Regardless of another person’s race, religion, financial status, or outward appearances, acknowledge that we are all on this planet together, and despite our personality differences, we are pretty much the same. We all put on our pants the same way, unless you happen to hold yours out and jump into them.

So don’t judge.

When I was growing up, I could usually determine if a person was important or successful by the way he or she dressed. Whether the person was a schoolteacher, the president of a company, or a Hollywood star was relatively easy to discern, because most complied with the accepted norms of “dress for success.” Successful businessmen, for example, tended to wear dark suits with white shirts and either red, blue, or yellow “power ties.” Those days are long gone. It is especially precarious nowadays to judge people by their clothing or external appearance. Today you may meet a multimillionaire or a computer genius dressed in baggy pants or jeans with holes in them, wearing a T-shirt or sweatshirt. You never know.

One time, I was on my way back from a large event in Arkansas, and Christina and I were seated at the airport awaiting our flight home. Several people recognized me and wanted to talk with me, but Christina ran interference, informing them that I had been keeping a grueling schedule and was fatigued, so it might not be the best time for a conversation.

“I’m going to run to the restroom before we leave,” Christina informed me, vacating the seat next to mine.

“Okay, fine,” I said. “I’ll just sit right here and wait for you.”

“Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone,” she warned me facetiously.

“Who, me?” I feigned shock.

Christina rolled her eyes and headed to the restroom. She had no sooner walked away when another young woman approached and sat down in the seat next to me. I guessed her to be around 19 years of age, and she sported bloodred dreadlocks in her hair and piercings all over her head and body, and carried several brightly colored translucent Hula-Hoops that seemed to have lights inside them.

She didn’t seem to recognize me, and she looked rather ratty in her appearance, but I was fascinated by her Hula-Hoops, so I struck up a conversation with her. “Why are you carrying those hoops?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m a performance artist and I use them in my show. They light up as I move.”

“They light up?” She had my full attention.

“Yeah, watch,” she offered. “I’ll show you.” She swung several of the hoops around her waist and arms and began to move her hips. The hoops swirled around her and lit up like a Christmas tree. I was impressed.

She sat back down and we talked further. She told me that she was on her way to Australia to attend school.

“Are you going to do any scuba diving while you are there?” I asked.

“Oh, I’d love to scuba dive in Australia,” she said.

I knew I had found a kindred spirit, regardless of her unusual looks and occupation. In my peripheral vision, I noticed several onlookers scowling at us incredulously, as though saying, “What is he doing talking to her?”

I didn’t care. She was an interesting person and I’m always interested in interesting people.

Christina returned, and I introduced her to the dreadlocked young woman. “And look,” I said, “she has Hula-Hoops!”

“Uh-huh,” Christina responded cautiously. “Hula-Hoops?”

“Yes, and they light up!”

“I see,” Christina said. “We’ll be boarding soon, Buzz.” She smiled at the strange-looking young woman and sat down across from us, while the red-dreads girl and I continued our conversation. Christina seemed to be working on her phone, occasionally pointing it in my direction.

Before long, it was time for the first-class passengers to board, so we said goodbye to the young woman. Upon entering the airplane, as is my usual practice, I stopped to chat with the pilots, greeting them as one pilot to another, asking them questions and engaging them in conversation about flying. Christina went on to our seats.

The young woman with the red dreads was one of the last passengers to get on the plane. As the young woman passed by our seats in first class, on her way to coach seating, Christina stopped her. “I took a few pictures of you and Buzz,” she said. “Would you mind if I send them out on Twitter?”

“I’m not on Twitter,” the red-dreads woman said, “but I don’t care. Send whatever you want.”

“Okay, the pictures will be on our website. Do you know who he is?”

“I don’t know; he said his name is Buzz.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Christina said. “Buzz Aldrin, as in Buzz Aldrin of Apollo 11, the guy who walked on the Moon.”

“Holy crap,” the girl blurted.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be able to talk to Buzz Aldrin for so long?” one of her fellow passengers asked. She had no idea. Nor did she care. And nor did I.

By then, everyone in first class was listening to their conversation—and they began applauding.

I TRY TO TREAT EVERY PERSON WITH DIGNITY and respect, whether that person is the president of the United States—all of whom I have met since Richard Nixon—or Queen Elizabeth of England or a waitress at a local restaurant. In fact, you can tell a lot about another person you are considering as a business partner or a marriage partner simply by observing the way that person treats an individual who is serving them. When people are rude or inconsiderate or treat waitstaff as inanimate robots that exist and function merely for their convenience, service, or pleasure, you can be sure those people will eventually treat your customers or you in a similar manner at some point.

I try to treat a janitor with the same respect I give to the CEO of a company. Why? Because every human being deserves our respect and deserves to be treated with dignity.

Treating children with respect is also a big deal to me. Part of the reason I respect kids’ curiosity so much is because I was a curious and adventurous child myself. During my early childhood, my family lived in a large house in Montclair, New Jersey, and the home had some secret passageways. I loved exploring those passageways, even though a few times, I nearly got stuck in one of them.

About the time I was eight years old, I had my own room on the third floor of the house. In good weather, at night I often climbed out a window onto the porch roof from the third floor and looked up at the stars … dreaming of what it might be like to travel there.

I was also fascinated by scuba diving at an early age and was intrigued by how the equipment worked. I had seen a cartoon strip in which the heroes were trying to escape from some marauders. They jumped into a lake and kept their heads underwater, using bamboo shoots to facilitate their breathing as they hid from their pursuers. When I saw that cartoon, I figured that I would experiment and try it out.

I found a hose and used it to breathe as I went underwater. Unfortunately, as I got deeper below the surface, I quickly realized that my lungs couldn’t handle the pressure without having proper oxygen. I nearly drowned! Gurgling and choking, I popped up out of the water, thinking, That trick the heroes did in the cartoon is not possible!

After World War II broke out, I kept a large map of the world in my room, and I kept track of air raids and bombings by following the newsreels. Even then, I was curious.

When a child asks me a question, I don’t ignore it. Nor do I attempt to “dumb down” the answer; I simplify my response and may not include a lot of technical details, but I respect the child’s intelligence and encourage his or her inquisitiveness.

When talking with children, I like to get down on their level, so I will kneel or stoop or even sit on the floor so I can look into their eyes. I ask questions and I listen carefully to their answers, taking my time, and giving them my full attention. I never speak to children in a condescending manner, and I welcome every question. Kids love to talk about space or underwater exploration, and I love sharing my experiences with them.

Recently, a little girl asked me, “Do you have to be brave to go into space?”

“No,” I told her with a smile. “You just have to be smart.”