Thoughts on Apollo

A friend asked me today what I was doing 41 years ago tonight, when the whole world watched Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walk on the moon.

Nothing, as it turns out. My parents didn't even know each other yet; their first date came in February of 1970. I wouldn't come along until four days after Hank Aaron hit home run #715, 16 months after the last manned trip to the moon.

I was born into a world where men had been to the moon enough times that we had moved on to the "next thing." I was born into a world where a black man could get a standing ovation from a largely-white audience in Atlanta. I was born into a world where even Babe Ruth's home run record could be broken.

The atmosphere in which I took my first breath was one where anything was possible.

Unfortunately, this was the 70's. So "anything is possible" quickly devolved into "hey, why not?" See disco, the pet rock, and the filmography of John Travolta.

The world learned a important lesson during the first five years of my life: Just because you can, doesn't necessarily mean you should.