I’ve always been an aviation, spaceflight and science geek … an art geek too, which usually gummed up the whole notion of happy self-geekiness. Blame it on a wrestling match between the left side and right of the brain — logical and technical versus emotional and creative. Trying to be equally faithful to both sides of the command center is like fidgeting with the autopilot as we fly through life. Tighten your seats! But I’m not much of a straight-and-level pilot anyway, so it’s been a good ride.

My 1960s childhood was fired up with the most exalted triumph of 1960s adulthood — the space race. It consumed me. The unbelievable technology, the daring pilots, the brainiac engineers and the whole history of flight made their mark on my impressionable little noggin. In my comfy world I couldn’t care less about the politics of the space race; it was just plain exciting. By the time Apollo 8 gave humanity its first view of the Earth, followed by the Moon landing and some moments of global unity, the whole endeavor seemed to be part of a greater good.

I wished to someday work at NASA, but engineering wasn’t for me, and perfect vision was a requirement for becoming an astronaut, so near-sighted Teddy remained a happy little aviation and space geek with a penchant for writing, visual arts and drama (or maybe just being overly dramatic). 

I mixed the science and art whenever I could, and later somehow concocted a BA in filmmaking at the University of Washington. Immediately after college I remained in the Northwest long enough to be a magazine photographer and licensed pilot (go Cub!). Next stop, Los Angeles — film grad, right?  

In between the legendary full-time Hollywood job of looking for work, I found employment in film and TV projects, and enjoyed the environment of writers, artists and entertainers. The years passed and I felt something elemental was missing. I needed to court my flying and make art. So, I upped my pilot ratings and also jumped into my first love of drawing. Thousands of sketches later, a few found their way into some toney LA galleries. Then I left town for a summer job as a pilot at a glider school a couple hours north of LA. I stayed for four years. Adios LA, I will always love you.

The gliderport immersed me in the flyers’ world. Soaring was popular and the fixed-base operator (FBO) was busy. Being a “tow pilot” (flying the planes that pulled gliders aloft) was a good fit for my short attention span — flights were brief, and it was easy to log thousands of them each year. On my days off I relaxed with long glider flights. The FBO had a contract with the U.S. Air Force Test Pilot School based at nearby Edwards Air Force Base (glider flying was part of the test pilots’ curriculum). In Hollywood I was comfortable with coworkers in costumes, but military uniforms were unsettling. These flyers seemed like foreigners. The only language we had in common was aviation. We got along great; I was proud to work with them, and the new link to Edwards would change my life — again.

Four years into the towing gig I was offered a job as a copy writer for the NASA Dryden Flight Research Center Public Affairs Office at Edwards AFB. For an aviation and space geek like me, Edwards was Shangri La — literally home of the right stuff — and I was arriving at the right time. NASA was expanding its Education, Public Affairs and History offices so I soon had my hand in writing, video production, graphic design and public outreach. Oh my. The talents I developed because I thought I would never get a chance to be a part of NASA, became the very reasons NASA welcomed me into the fold. My world expanded in every way. I felt like I was part of something bigger than any individual, and our work made a positive impact at all levels of society. So, here’s my message to all the young aviation and space geeks out there: STEM is great, but if it’s not your forte, there are other ways to play a meaningful part in the STEM-based worlds.

The NASA and Edwards experiences helped me land my job at The Museum of Flight 16 years ago. Here I am privileged to continue sharing the stories of aerospace with a world of fascinating people. My left brain versus right brain challenges still continue, but they’re now more akin to the squabbling of long-married lovers.

Ted Huetter coauthored the book, Edwards Air Force (Arcadia Publishing, 2010); and a new book of his photographs, Waiting for Spaceships — Scenes from a Desert Community in Love with the Space Shuttle (Fonthill Media, 2024) will be available everywhere beginning August 6.