One Giant Leap

Neil Armstrong, 1969
photo from Wikipedia

I was surprised by the news over the weekend of the death of 82-year-old Neil Armstrong, first man to walk on the moon. I hadn’t heard much about him in a long time—which turns out to be pretty much because of his personality and choices. He became very quiet in retirement, making few public appearances or speeches.

As one of the pieces I read noted, “His walk on the moon wasn’t a personal achievement per se, but an accomplishment for all of humanity.” He didn’t take the honor for himself; he was just the man with the assignment of being the human being to take the step made possible by the work of thousands of engineers, scientists, and workers who had worked over time and throughout this particular mission to make his step possible.

His words were brilliantly apt: “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” (Or possibly “one small step for a man”; there’s debate about whether the “a” just wasn’t heard or remembered. Not important.) Of all the words that could have been spoken at that moment, those were so beautiful. We’re fortunate he wasn’t just some guy who said, “Huh, it’s kind of dry and colorless here,” or “Nice place for a visit, but I wouldn’t want to live here.”

He was respectful, humble, and reverent. And it appears his life following this moment showed him to embody those qualities, rather than to have just portrayed them for a brief important moment. There was a point at which he stopped signing autographs, because he learned that people were selling his signature for profit, and that seemed wrong. It wasn’t about him as hero or celebrity; it was about the historic accomplishment. He kept the moment sacred.

It’s said that those who saw the event will never forget it. Probably so. I’m of an age to verify that for myself. It was a Sunday. This particular Sunday, as almost never happens, we were dismissed early from services, right after the sacrament (communion), to go home and watch TV—because it was important for us to witness the historic event.

I had just turned eleven a few days before. It was a kind of magical summer; we had moved from a house we’d built when I was three, and until buying another home lived in a house my grandparents had built and normally rented out. There was a creek going through the yard, and horses in the field behind. We did some great exploring that summer. We drove to our regular church, not knowing where we would be moving (we ended up moving back to the same neighborhood a few months later), so it was a good half-hour drive, instead of a walk up the street. That may have made the dismissal to go home to our TVs seem even larger.

We had a small black-and-white TV, with a dial to turn to the three available commercial stations—all of which showed the event simultaneously. There were some simulations showing us what was going on, but the actual moon landing was viewed from a camera set up on the lunar module to chronicle the event. It was a fuzzy image, at least on our TV. The astronauts looked kind of ghost-like. At the age I was, it probably wouldn’t have held my interest without the historic meaning everyone placed on it. In grade school back in those days, if there was a NASA launch, we got to bring in a TV to the classroom and cluster around it to watch; it was always a big deal. But this one was more so. I’m glad, after all these decades, that the adults around made it seem significant, because I do indeed remember seeing the images and hearing the words.

It was indeed a giant leap for mankind; history up until July 20, 1969, landing on the moon had been only real in imagination. From that point on it was part of our history.

I don’t know what is in store for our future, but as mankind, and as a country, I don’t think we’re done with greatness yet. My thanks to Neil Armstrong, who was such a good example. Even in death, he reminds us of that magnificent culmination of efforts for mankind. We can always use more heroes who embody respect, humility, and reverence.

Here's a video of the event--worth seeing again: