Something Special for The Man in the Moon

In the final year of the twentieth century, I was commissioned by NASA to conduct a series of experiments using tomato seeds that had been incubated in three different conditional states. Well . . . I mean I wasn’t actually sought out by NASA to do these experiments. Rather, I applied via a lengthy form to have my Grade 8 class receive the seeds so that they could be part of this scientific study. I was successful in the application, and when word came that I would be receiving three packages of tomato seeds along with an investigator’s instructional manual, I was overjoyed to think that soon I would be in the unpaid employ of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. I imagined myself to be a simple step away from living the life of an astronaut, bouncing through the far reaches of the solar system at the end of a nylon tether. “Rocket Man – burning out his fuse up here alone!”

A few days later, the seeds arrived. One package of seeds had been incubated for six months aboard the MIR space station, while another had spent six months in the hold of a deep-sea station off the coast of Florida. The third package had been held captive in a greenhouse storage cabinet in the suburbs of Houston, Texas for 28 weeks. It was exciting to think that I was holding in my hand, something that had been part of a shuttle launch and then hurled through space and around the planet at 17 000 miles per hour. I just couldn’t resist. I opened the packages, took one seed from each and then set them into my mouth, one at a time and crunched them between my front teeth. I held each one on my tongue for several seconds in search for the flavor of outer space or the ocean depths or the NASA greenhouse. They all basically tasted the same and no side-effects were noted.

When I read through the instruction manual and the listed experiments that were to be performed in the next 60 days, I realized that perhaps I had bitten off an unchewable amount. No less than 24 separate tests were expected to be completed by each classroom receiving the seeds from NASA. I felt that perhaps the United States Space Agency had misrepresented the complexity of this venture in the clever guise of a simple gift to be shared by teachers and students all over North America. When I filled out the application, there was no mention of the 24 experiments – only the term ‘EXPERIMENT(S)’ was used, which in my mind indicated that one (maybe optionally two or three) experiment(s) were on the docket. In my eagerness to introduce my young charges to exciting classroom science and in my delight in working for NASA, I had been duped into performing some laborious grunt work. My soul in exchange for three small packages of seeds. I recalled others who had been in my situation – young Jack had traded his family cow and the riches of his farm for a bean seed or two. “How did that turn out?” I wondered.

Anyway, I was betting that perhaps NASA would be open to a deal. I thought that maybe my students could complete all of the desired tests and collect and compile the results in such an efficient and precise manner that the Space Agency would be more than greatly impressed. If they were indeed suitably taken by the work we were willing to do, they may just be open to a small favor in the other direction. I submitted my proposal but NASA basically laughed at the idea. Their exact response leaned toward thoughts of, “Who on earth I thought I might be, suggesting such an outrageous request.” I countered with hints of the pristine quality of our conducted experiments, showing the immaculate control we offered. I also alluded to the extraordinary and surprising results we obtained from germination through fruit harvest (especially in the space-incubated seeds). I sent photos of the tomato-jungle that had taken over the classroom, and that had filled it with the pungent aroma of tomato stems and leaves. I also designed one extra experiment where cups of emerging tomato seedlings were placed on revolving turn-tables to note the effects of artificial gravity. I had plenty of these in my possession from some of the garage-sale purchases I had made over the last number of years. We were able to conduct gravity experiments at both 33-rpm and 45-rpm speeds. One or two of the turn-tables were lost in the name of science because some of the students attempted to water the plants without stopping the spinning platform. Water splashed into the circuitry of the machine and that was that – Sparks and Kaputzsky!!

I also sent a video of the Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato Sandwich Sale we were able to provide for the entire school from the hundreds of tomatoes we harvested throughout the final days of testing. All of this information seemed to suitably bring the folks at NASA to a state of heightened anticipation. They let me know that they could not wait for the final results of the 24 (now 25) experiments we had conducted. I let them know that the results would follow as soon as they agreed to return just one small favor. They let me know, in no uncertain terms, that they were not about to be held captive by some insignificant middle-years Science teacher. After some several days of ‘to-ing and fro-ing’ and about a dozen emails and phone messages and my assurance that I was in no way holding them hostage, they finally agreed to my request.

The request was a simple one really – no big sweat on their part. All NASA would be required to do in return for the final Tomato-Results from my class, would be to deliver a brown paper envelope to “The Man In The Moon”. Apparently, there was to be a lunar probe landing on the moon within the next year. They agreed to have the probe carry and deliver the package to the moon. They would arrange to have a photo taken of the brown paper package as it lay on the moon’s surface, so as to verify the doing of the deed. When I finally received their word in writing, I released the results of our classroom study.

I know you would just love to hear what I put into the package, but I can’t tell you. All I can tell you is that it is on the moon in the south-easterly quadrant of the Sea of Tranquility. I left instructions with the National Aeronautics and Space Administration that if it is found in the future by any visitors to the Moon, it could be opened and the contents examined. However, all contents of the package, including the brown paper envelope, had to be left there for The Man In The Moon.

Don’t you just love Science?