In 1986 I had a most surreal and memorable experience which brought me much pride and joy. But that feeling of euphoria was soon turned to sorrow and immeasurable pain. On January 28, 1986, the space shuttle Challenger exploded after launch from the Kennedy Space Center, Florida, USA, also taking the lives of seven American astronauts. Among them was Ronald E McNair, PhD, a black physicist NASA astronaut who hailed from Lake City, South Carolina. He was serving as the mission specialist.

Prior to that tragedy, Dr McNair, in 1978, was selected as one of 35 succesful applicants from a pool of 10,000 for the NASA astronaut programme. He flew on the STS-41-B aboard Challenger from February 3 to 11, 1984, becoming the second African American and the first Baha’i to fly in space. After that remarkable feat, he became an international celebrity and he was brought to Jamaica, I recall, as a special guest of the Jamaica Tourist Board and the United States Embassy here.

Part of his official itinerary was a visit to Montego Bay, and a cocktail reception was held in his honour on the lawns of the Rose Hall Great House, to which I was invited. He was accompanied by his wife, Cheryl, and everyone was extremely excited to meet this black American astronaut in the flesh. A scintillating personality he was, who, in addition to his exploits in space, was a performing jazz saxophonist of some repute. The renowned guest had a very tight schedule so he had to leave within a specific time frame. The party, however, continued in his absence and, as I mingled with the guests, a little white boy frantically pulled on my shirt with pleading eyes while holding up a photographic memento that was distributed earlier of the astronaut. I was quite taken aback and remained dumbstruck for a while, then a tall American tourist gently pulled me aside and explained to me that the little boy was his son and he had begged his father to take him to the reception as he wanted to meet the famous astronaut and get his autograph.

The long and short of it was the little boy thought I was Dr McNair, who he did not know had already left the function. With a concerned but persuasive look on his face, the father said, “Sir, I know this might sound crazy to you, but could you just pretend to be astronaut McNair, shake his hand, and autograph his photograph?” Interestingly, I was much younger then (and perhaps more debonair and handsome; ha!) and, yes, I did resemble the famed astronaut. So the little boy, with much glee, handed me a pen and the picture of Dr McNair, and with much flourish and dramatic flair I did what I was asked, making one little, white boy ecstatically happy, accompanied by a most relieved and grateful dad.

Dr McNair’s death came as a shock to many of his Jamaican admirers who had met him during that trip. Little did we know that this brilliant man’s exemplary and accomplished life would have ended in such a devastating way. We remember him with love and continue to be inspired by his many accomplishments against many odds. And I know that somewhere out there is a happy boy, now turned man, who is still treasuring that autographed photograph. Some cynic may even want to label me an impostor or call me a fraud, but so what? I am very sure that somewhere out there, Dr McNair is looking down from wherever and he is smiling — and, probably quipping, “Lloyd B, you devil you!”

As I reflect on that one moment in time when I became Dr Ronald E McNair, world famous astronaut, I found myself caught up in the rapture of the American dream. The late, great black American would have been descendants of slaves brought across the Middle Passage from Mother Africa. He would have represented what is the essence of the American dream, and thus what makes America great. According to Wikipedia, the American dream is a national ethos of the United States, the set of ideals (democracy, rights, liberty, opportunity, and equality) in which freedom includes the opportunity for prosperity and success, as well as an upward social mobility for the family and children, achieved through hard work in a society with few barriers. In the definition of the American dream by James Truslow Adams in 1931, “Life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each individual according to ability or achievement,” regardless of social class or circumstances of birth.

Wikipedia concludes: “The American dream is rooted in the Declaration of Independence, which proclaims that, ‘All men are created equal,’ with the right to ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness’.”

It is no secret that President Donald J Trump’s mantra, “Make America Great Again,” has been interpreted by many of his followers to mean “Make America White Again”. In real terms, therefore, it may well be that Dr Martin Luther King’s “dream” and the American dream are no longer synonymous. In this regard, the potent question is, has the American dream been ‘Trumped’?

In the final analysis, the United States of America is a land of immigrants, and this is symbolised in the inscription on the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” The American president was once seen and revered as the “leader of the free world”. Nature abhors a vacuum. The world is waiting to exhale.

Lloyd B Smith is a veteran journalist, editor and publisher who lives in Montego Bay where he is affectionately known as “The Governor”. Send comments tothe Observer or lbsmith4@gmail.com.