The Wrong Stuff Words by Beth Stevens © 1986 TTTO The Battle Hymn of the RepublicI grew up in the desert in a missile-testing town I cut my teeth on Goddard, I was nurtured on Von Braun Our windows used to rattle when they broke the speed of sound Down at mighty Edwards where the fighter jocks abound. Don't ya' know they had the right stuff Mom and home and apple pie stuff They were heroes and they'd hang tough Way up above mach one. My father was a physicist, a rocket-loving nut He fired me with the notion to grow up an astronaut, Revolted that I didn't know an ampere from a watt And shocked by my resistance to all that I was taught. But don't ya' know I had the right stuff Rocket fire up in the sky stuff I'd be a hero, and I'd hang tough To bring the space age on. Dad trained his Heathkit telescope upon the heavens bright Tripod mounted on the roof, with Venus in his sights. "Come up and see your future," he'd frequently invite. I wanted to, but I was scared of heights! But don't ya' know I had the right stuff Rocket fire up in the sky stuff I'd be a hero, and I'd hang tough To bring the space age on. In college I had trouble with imaginary roots I never could get decimals to stay where they were put In chemistry, I learned too late, it wasn't real astute To drop sulfuric acid on the teacher's foot. It seemed I didn't have the right stuff The transcendental quest for pi stuff And quantum theory was real tough, But still I struggled on. Graduation opened up a terrifying void I fired off applications, all strategically deployed But Einstein was all relative, Planck constantly annoyed And I had too much entropy to wish to be employed. Now I knew I had the wrong stuff The I-don't-know-where-I-belong stuff Dreams of glory just weren't quite enough To build a future on. Though I thought I ought to be like Shepard and Armstrong Years of aimless scribbling convinced me I was wrong. There's a place for folk like me, I've found where I belong: No astronaut can be forgot, when I have sung his song! Don't ya' know I've got the wrong stuff The put-it-in-a-filking-song stuff I'm no hero, but I'll hang tough And filk until the dawn!