50 Years After that Giant Leap

Today is the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing.  The first time a person stepped onto the surface of a heavenly body other than Earth.  An event that, like most things dealing with astronauts and space travel, makes me kind of want to cry. 

I can't even watch a video of a NASA launch without getting a lump in my throat, and I'm not sure why.  I think it has to do with the people in the shuttle or space ship or whatever is getting launched, and how hard they've worked to get there.  How brave they are, the giant risks they're taking, and how brave their families on the ground are being.  How many people have worked so long and so precisely to make space travel possible.

Just the idea that we can leave our own atmosphere and travel beyond our planet sort of gathers up all my love of exploration and those who explore, people living inside tiny and confined spaces, and people doing seemingly impossible things.  As a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut, at least until I found out how good they all had to be at math.  Even after seeing Apollo 13 (1995) and all the things that can go wrong in a space mission, I still had that desire, though I was 15 by then and coming to terms with the fact that I would not be an astronaut, nor would I get to go to astronaut camp.

So today, I'm remembering and honoring all the brave and daring and intelligent men and women who made that first moon landing happen.  Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins and alllllllll the people on the ground who carried them up to the moon with their collective hopes, dreams, ideas, and knowledge.  I hope you're remembering them too.