I have never been a spacey person. You know the type… they have a telescope, love sci-fi films, read books on astronomy, have posters of Einstein on their walls, and have no greater wish than to have star named in their honour.
They ponder the possibility of life on other planets; they reach, intellectually speaking, for the stars.
I remember quite clearly lying on the new suburban front lawn of our 60s ranch style home (not unlike the one the Brady Bunch lived in, only a bit less swanky) on a star-studded summer night when one of my older siblings explained infinity to me, telling me that what we could see was a mere grain of sand in what was out there.
It freaked me out. My imagination kind of hit a brick wall. This was bigger than the biggest thing I could possibly envisage. I think you can be too young for some knowledge. It was just scary.. like that other freaky adolescent thought - how do you know you are real…that you actually exist and are not just some overreaching amoeba in a Petri dish somewhere.
So I have needed radio and press to remind me that it was 40 years ago today that man stepped upon the moon – it was not in my anniversary calendar.
I think I recall being given the previous Thursday (in Australia is was July 17) afternoon off from school to go home and watch the rocket launch on TV.
It is not as clear as it should be. I shuffle through memories and can’t recall if they are of the actual events or the many TV reruns between then and now. I know I was glad to get the afternoon off …I know mum and dad watched too. I vaguely remember it being a little tedious on our little black and white TV.
One thing that remains as clear as a bell is going to my grandparents place and being allowed to get out my Nonno’s good binoculars and look up at the moon. They had a very old Italian man boarding at their house. Luigi was a nice enough fellow but not terribly well educated and certainly not someone who had ever imagined space travel or even contemplated a reason for it.
He fiddled with the lenses as he looked up for a minute or two.
He shook his head and said, “I can’t see anything…I think it is bullshit”.
Who would have thought a grey-haired Italian gent in his 80s would be the first to doubt the whole event…even without examining the shadows of the astronauts or the direction in which the US flag was flying in the still pictures that would later be the source of an enduring conspiracy theory.
Now, 40 years on I wonder if it really matters what people think. This momentous feat in my lifetime is hardly tangible to many of the people I work with…they are more likely to know Buzz Lightyear than Buzz Aldrin…more interested in their lunar rhythms than the lunar surface.
They take Velcro for granted and have been eating food packaged like spacefood since they were knee-high to grasshoppers…mmmm Fruit box. And if there was contact with life from another planet they would not be phased – they’ve seen ET.
All the spaceys have moved on too. There are bigger asteroids to fry on. There are probes to Mars, there are missions to the edge of our galaxy, stars to discover and complex radio signals to emit in the hope that someone answers.
And the moon itself – well it looks pretty unperturbed – the little stars and stripes banner, the other bits and pieces left behind, the indelible footprints of that giant leap for mankind, are but a wave in the Sea of Tranquility.
Despite having the covers lifted, despite proof positive that it is made of rock and dust and not edam or gruyere, there is something mystical that has survived the landing. Something that makes dogs bale, couples canoodle, and the odd ageing hippie dance naked under its golden orbit.
Mr Moon
Silver scythe through the inky sky
you shine down on tiled roofs
and little lanes
pushing dim sunlight along the street.
You’re a dab hand at definition,
a kindly torch for travellers.
All around blows wildly while you float
high-rised and unperturbed
the only rock in a storm.
But on other nights
I’ve seen you coaxed from shyness.
Slung low and gold and large.
Full of yourself,
You lounge about -
a big grin on your timeless face.
