For two long years he was a voice on the telephone. A friendly voice. A happy voice. A funny voice which made me laugh. He was at MIT at the time and wanted to get into aerospace in the worst way. I couldn't imagine anyone in their right mind leaving MIT to join the space program, but hey, I was sure he had his reasons.

So he'd call to talk to the Colonel, and usually it was my pleasure to be able to jaw with him for a few minutes while he waited for the Colonel to come on the line. Eventually his persistence paid off and the job he'd been waiting for came available. When it did, the Colonel said, "Hey, I just happen to know this guy with a doctorate in Mechanical Engineering who would be perfect for that spot." And that was how Professorio Massimino came into my life.

I was surprised by how much I came to love him. The voice on the telephone turned out to be a tall, slender, extremely good-natured young man whose very presence on the job was a delight. His consistently positive attitude, combined with a ready smile and incessant good humor, endeared him to all who knew him. Did I mention that he was also technically brilliant beyond all my expectations? And let me tell you, I work with the very best, so my standards are way up there on the scale. He continually amazed me. He proved to be trainable, too, which is a highly valued attribute in rocket scientists. We were mighty glad to have him among the troops. And he was a great storyteller. I would laugh until tears ran down my cheeks, holding my sides, when he'd regale me with stories of his childhood, irreverently yet lovingly poking fun at his Italian self.

As I came to know him, I eventually learned that it had always been his dream to become an Astronaut, which was why he left MIT for the uncertain orbit of aerospace. Teaming up with the Colonel, himself a veteran of two Shuttle flights, the Professor learned as much as he could about NASA, the Astronaut Corps, and spaceflight in general. The Colonel loved to share his experiences, and the two of them would talk in the Colonel's office, the Professor agog at the tall tales and the Colonel rolling them out like prize petunias. I'd sit at my desk and smile as the conversations drifted out to engage my ears, and every now and then I'd throw my two cents in just for good measure. "You guys are having too much fun in there," I'd tell 'em.

We came to know his wife, Carola, and we were thrilled when little Gabriella was born. She became ours, in a way, just as the Professor himself, and we helped nurse her through her infancy, applauded her first tooth, marveled at her first step. We waited expectantly when Daniel came along a couple of years later. A closeness grew between the Family Massimino and the rest of us that is hard to describe. Finding them was like discovering a part of my family that I hadn't known existed. The Colonel felt that way, too, and when the Prof made application to NASA for astronaut training, it was with the Colonel's personal recommendation and counsel.

Then one day last August the Professor announced he'd been offered an assistant professorship at Georgia Tech and would be leaving us. We all met after work at Molly's Pub to roast him good and wish him well. I cried just a little bit, because I hated to see him go. But he promised to keep in touch, and since he would still be working on some of his R&D projects, we knew he'd be in town every now and then. We shoved him out the door just in time for him to drive the family to Atlanta and then report to Kennedy Space Center to see his two experiments, the Manipulator Position Display (MPD) and Joint Angle Display (JAD), fly on STS-69.

Our relationship resumed its original flavor. Once again, he was a voice on the telephone. He also became an email message from time to time. During trips to Houston to check on his projects, he manifested as a welcome visitor in the lobby. "Heard anything from the Selection Board yet?", I'd always ask him after the initial hug. "Nope, not yet," he'd say, "but you and the Colonel will be the first to know." That was not to be, of course. As it happened, his was a voice which called to comfort me after the Colonel was unexpectedly killed testing a kitplane in Minnesota. Neither the Professor or I were prepared for that untimely loss, and we clung to each other, via fiber-optic cable, in the shadow of his passing.

Yesterday the voice on the telephone was more excited than I have ever heard it. Its timbre was slightly higher than normal, and the ready laugh reached out across the wires to make my heart sing. It seems that a dream is coming true for a very deserving young man. NASA has made its decision, and Dr. Michael J. Massimino, possessor of the right stuff, will be joining the Astronaut Corps this summer.

I wonder if there's some unwritten Cosmic law that says never one Astronaut dies but another is born to take his place? If only the Colonel could have been here to take that call. I hope wherever he is, whatever new kind of rocketship he's building or aircraft he's testing over there beyond the veil, that he knows the golden wings will fly again in his honor.

I hope he knows the Professor's coming home.