the glint of light on broken glass

This is one of my earliest childhood memories.

It is long before I had any siblings.

I’m probably three years-old. It is the autumn of 1975. 

I live in the northwestern San Fernando Valley, on Topanga Canyon Boulevard, just a couple of miles south of Spahn Ranch. The Valley is largely undeveloped where we live, and what is developed is mostly farmland. In the 90s, I will be that guy who says  “When I lived here, this was all farmland…” while he sweeps his hand across the view of endless development. I will be that guy every time I drive down Topanga. I will spend the rest of my life missing the quiet simplicity and wide open space that I took for granted as a child, while also accepting that taking things for granted is what children do best.

So it is in the early evening. The air is warm, but a hint of a chill occasionally swirls around us on a light breeze that barely moves the dry air. I’m standing between my parents, my mother holds my left hand, my father holds my right hand. We are in the yard that separates our little house — a chicken coop that had been converted into a home — from the big farm house that my great grandparents live in. It is their backyard, our frontyard, and my entire world. I will spend hundreds hours on that lawn, listening to Star Trek Power records on my portable plastic record player, in a tee pee that my dad makes for me out of blankets and broomsticks. It will be every planet in our solar system, and every planet I create in my imagination. 

We are next to the walnut tree that will be struck by lightning in a few months. That tree will split in two, catch fire, and the part that falls to the ground will narrowly miss destroying our home. The fire will be extinguished by the rain before the fire department arrives. We stand there, the three of us, beneath the bare branches of that tree, its crisp leaves crunching beneath our feet. We look to the eastern horizon, and we look at the moon.

The moon is as big as the entire sky. It covers the entire horizon, impossibly big. It is yellow and the seas and craters are so big, they look like continents. The moon is so big and so bright, it frightens me, but my father soothes me, tells me that it’s far away, in space, and that we are safe. We stand there, my parents both younger than my children are now, and we marvel at an optical illusion that I will never forget, and never experience again in my life.

That was the moment that I fell in love with space. That was the moment that the moon stopped being a thing in the sky and became a place I could maybe touch one day. From that moment, I wanted to learn everything I could about space. I would read Let’s Go To The Moon with my grandmother as often as she would allow it. I would make rockets out of everything I could get my hands on, and imagine riding them into space. When Star Wars came out a few years later, I wanted to see it because it was about people who lived in space. When I finally got to work on Star Trek, even the longest day with the worst dialog in the first season was amazing to me, whenever I stood on a set and looked out through a window into a fake starfield, because I got to pretend that I, too, lived in space.

I grew up. A lot of things changed in my life, but I never stopped loving space. I never stopped looking up into the dark sky and imagining that, someday, maybe I’d go there and come back.

Today, I found out that I kind of get to be in space and live right here on Earth … because an asteroid has been named after me. It’s asteroid 391257, and it’s currently in Canis Minor. As soon as it gets dark here, I’m going to walk out into my backyard, look up into the sky, just a little above Sirius, and know that, even though I can’t see it with my naked eye, it’s out there, and it’s named after me.

Discover more from WIL WHEATON dot NET

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

66 thoughts on “the glint of light on broken glass”

  2. Love open space, grew up in rural South Carolina, and really miss the peaceful quiet of the place. Thanks for the nostalgic walk down memory lane, and also, awesome news on getting an asteroid named after you!

  5. Lovely writing, and congratulations on your asteroid! If anyone deserves their own asteroid, it’s definitely you.

  6. Congratulations Wil! Do realize how many humans will never have anything named after them?
    That would make my fucking year, no matter what else happens.

    1. I honestly don’t even know what to do with it. Like, it’s amazing, and such an incredible honor, and I have no idea how to feel. It’s overwhelming, so I guess overwhelmed?

      1. Congratulations! It is so different, so all “one of its kind” nominations that I doubt we can too, as fan, know how to feel for you. But I know I am very happy for you! You’re out there, really out there! LLAP! Un beau bonjour du Québec! §:c)

  8. I hope this comes out as I intend, which is as a compliment. I have enjoyed some of your acting, and some I have not (blame the bad writing on Star Trek. Hated the character, thought you performed it well), but I think you are a better writer than an actor. Maybe your inability to “solve” Hollywood is because you really belong behind a keyboard instead of in front of a camera.

    2. “Hated the character, thought you performed it well . . .” Well my 7 year old daughter is certainly in love with Wil Wheaton/Wesley Crusher. 🙂 She immediately recognized Wil when we watched Flubber the other night.

      1. Without a doubt, had I been a teen or pre-teen when it was on, my opinion probably would have been different, and to be fair, I hated most of the characters on Next Gen. Watched every episode, and really enjoyed maybe 2 or 3. My cat on the other hand adored Next Gen. She would sit on top of the TV and purr along with the background engine noise….

  9. If you want to, you can reframe earth as being a big spaceship. It is in space, in a sense. Not that you can use it to travel to other planets. Unless you go down into those Myan pyramids and mess with the contols…

    1. That’s a great idea for a short story: Archaeologists investigating a lost Mayan pyramid discover a chamber containing various dials and levers hewn out of stone. They unwittingly pull on several levers and rotate a dial. Months later, scientists are puzzled by several inexplicable shifts in the Earth’s orbit around the Sun. The Earth has moved outwards by several million kilometers from the Sun. Temperatures plummet, crops fail, and modern civilization collapses. In fact, eerily similar to what happened to the Mayans over a thousand years ago…

  13. Congrats Wil! That is a pretty awesome thing. Totally get the love of space, my dad worked at Goldstone deep space tracking during the Apollo missions from summer 1969 into the 70s. My sixth grade final report was on the NASA space program and the launch of Enterprise in 1981. Still have the memories of the sonic booms from the shuttles that landed at Edwards 60 miles away.

  16. So cool. Now maybe what you need is to write a story centering around your asteroid. Maybe a space traveler standing on it? An alien looking our way from nearby it? A space miner boring into it? Jus a story about that spot in space, to help make it real to you.

  18. Very cool about the asteroid! A well deserved honor. I have to say thiough, that memory piece was so well written. It was engaging and beautiful, and sublimely simple. You have an amazing talent with words.

  20. I love the moon. When it is big and beautiful and low in the sky, I can watch it on my entire drive home from work and it makes me incredibly happy (I work swing). This is seriously cool. Wil, if you’re not sure how to feel just look up in the sky in the direction of your asteroid and I suspect a smile will come to your heart.

  22. I’m honestly tearing up at your description of that time, at your love of space, and at how fucking cool it is that you now have an asteroid named after you! SO COOL!

    I can’t tell you how many times I listened to the Star Trek story record “Passage to Moauv” over and over again. That and a GI Joe one where he fights a mummy in Egypt. I hope I wasn’t the only kid of found Lt. M’ress particularly…fascinating.

  25. Amazing, Wil! You deserve the honor, just for being an awesome, honest, amazing guy who has helped people deal with their problems by just saying “hey, I have problems too, and it’s OK.” You can’t possibly understand how much that has meant to many of us, including me.

  28. This is the most awesome thing I’ve read in a long time, and wow, the bonus of being non-fiction! It also made me cry, in a good way.

  30. Gorgeous piece of writing, Mr. Wheaton. Evocative, nostalgic and powerful. I echo the earlier comment that you were made to be a writer (Ever written a screenplay? It’s a thought).

    Congratulations on the asteroid. In the ranking of “Things that can be named after you” asteroid is pretty high, way above “airport”, and miles above “street”.

  31. An asteroid? What a deserved honor! I can relate to your story about development. I grew up in San Juan Capistrano, where I hiked & played in the hills, which are now covered in houses, leaving today’s kids nowhere to explore except asphalt & concrete.

  32. How very cool. Do you know who makes the naming decision? Can you apply on a website or are they picking people with some connection to space (you most certainly count)?

  33. That’s awesome Wil. This puts you in good company!

    Namedrop(s) incoming…

    I once had the pleasure of having breakfast with James Randi. He told me a story about when he got an asteroid named after him. His first thought was to call his friend Arthur C. Clarke. Because who are you going to call when you find out you have an asteroid named after you? Arthur C. Clarke, that’s who.

    Anyway, Arthur C. Freaking Clarke answered the phone and listened to The Amazing Freaking Randi tell him about this asteroid that was named after him (3163 Randi). Clarke bragged that he’d had an asteroid named after him years earlier (4923 Clarke). Randi asked Clarke how big his asteroid was, because that’s the first thing you need to know when you’re comparing asteroids. Clarke had this information handy: 3.4 km. Randi said, well that’s pretty good, but mine is 3.9 km. Boom! Roasted.

    Looks like they haven’t nailed down the diameter of your asteroid yet.

    1. “Randi asked Clarke how big his asteroid was, because that’s the first thing you need to know when you’re comparing asteroids. ”

      This is just begging to be a new euphemism.

  37. Wil – such a beautifully written piece that has a surprise ending! Congratulations! I love your writing and I’m so happy you’re doing your blog again. I hope it’s working for you. Thank you!

  38. Have you considered working with the planetary society? http://www.planetary.org/ Bill Nye, Robert Picardo, Emily Lakdawalla. I don’t have an asteroid, but my name is written on curiosity as well as few other space faring vehicles. And they produce the nicest calendars.

  39. Awesome sauce…that is truly cool. On another note, I just read Anne’s recent blog post…she is quite the courageous woman.

  40. So very cool. I can’t tell you how pleased I am for you. I know this just made your month. 🙂

  43. Gah! That’s so cool! I just sat at my desk and totally nerded out over this. The lead-in was beautiful and then to find out that you are an asteroid?! Super cool!

  44. That is awesome congrats i to had something that made my day/life though not as awesome as having an asteroid name but i got the world’s best compliment from someone so good that all othe compliments after are gonna be judged against that one. And of course it’s the best for me. So congratulations i still think having an asteroid named after oneself (I’m not being an elitist i just am not sure if use you or i there) is really freaking awesome.

  45. How did it happen? is the only Question I have. Everything else just repeats everyone else: Cool! Awesome! Love space! Love the moon! You’re a great writer! etc… and You’re married to a amazing woman!

    Seriously, though, I’ll be marching in either Pasadena or Beverly Hills on Saturday, because I’m not sure I can join 92,000 people in downtown LA (or wherever that march is taking place). And whenever the moon is FULL, but especially if it is low on the horizon and huge, I howl at it. Always have. Three or four good howls will do me for a month.

    Don’t think that’ll get me an asteroid, though. 😉

  48. I just foolishly attempted to read this out loud to my husband and my voice, thick and trembling, barely made it through the last sentence. This honor is so well deserved. Hooray!

  50. Congratulations! What’s the geeky version of an EGOT? You’ve got the asteroid named after you, so now maybe some scientist will name a new species in your honor, then maybe a deep sea remote submersible or something similarly cool? What a well-deserved honor for a very nice human. Congratulations again.

Comments are closed.

Related Posts

Recent Posts