About Sputnik's True Confessions and The Story Behind The Name

(Not a Russian Bot)

I was born in 1957, into a loving family with roots in the rural South, specifically Atlanta, Georgia. My parents and relatives were from the outlying towns of Rome, and Adairsville, Georgia.

To quote lyrics from the mighty King Crimson,(the subject of a soon-to-be-released and much-anticipated documentary) one of the most iconic progressive Rock bands from the past decades, “I’m A Dinosaur, Somone’s Digging My Bones”.

At least that’s the feeling you get when you realize how much time has passed. It’s like eons have passed in long slow stretches, and simultaneously, like five minutes ago.

This era of the late 50s into the mid-60s would, due to the impetus of soon-to-be President John Kennedy, come to be known as “The Space Age”. Part of what motivated Kennedy, to challenge the country to engineer and launch a manned mission to the moon, was the perceived competition from the Russians. Barely a month after I had entered the planetary sphere, The Russians, that is, the former U.S.S.R., launched the first man-made, artificial satellite to orbit the earth called “Sputnik One”.

What does that have to do with my personal experience?

As with all infants, I was prone to waking up at night. As my parent’s firstborn, I was looked after by a loving grandmother, my father, and my mother’s sisters.

The story gets a little foggy in detail, but my grandmother, when I would wake up crying, would say “there’s our little night light again” and apparently, Sputnik could be spotted in Earth orbit as a light in the night sky. So for some years, I carried the nickname “Sputnik”, dutifully reminded by my cousins on Summer visits to Georgia. In a sort of infantile Kirk Douglas as Sparticus moment, I suppose I came to the realization that “I Am Sputnik”.

Those tense, if hopeful times raced by, and here we are today, Russia as a threat, Russia as competition.

I can’t accurately describe how strange it is, after so many years, to see Russia as an enemy, or a perceived enemy. I can’t remember a time in my life when the threat of Nuclear War wasn’t hanging over all of our collective heads. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, I, like many other people, thought we were going to see an era of peace and prosperity.

To say the West’s reaction to Putin’s invasion has been overreach is an understatement. You certainly can’t downplay the criminality of the invasion and the horrible effects for the innocent Russians and Ukrainians caught in the consequential quagmire. I would, however, argue that canceling, censoring, and erasing any traces of Russian influence in History is not effectively helping Ukraine.

It’s gone as far as erasing literal History, specifically the contribution of a brave Cosmonaut, Yuri Gagarin, as the first man in space. At what level of insanity have we reached when historical facts are erased to serve the current narratives promulgated by Western government and media?

So, I’m sorry, I’m not erasing my childhood nickname, I’m celebrating it as a part of my life and a positive memory.

(Speaking of the Space Age, I highly recommend this gorgeous, lush incredible collection of instrumental versions of songs from that era by the incomparable Bill Frisell. Just hearing “Turn Turn Turn” inspires hope. )

(Dad and “Little Sputnik”)