Moon

I was drunk and melancholy this morning. I'd been nursing a couple of strong ones in the pub while reading an Apollo 11 pull-out from Tuesday's paper, a fascinating retrospective on the 40th anniversary of the mission.
It's one of the few events before my birth that I really regret missing out on. History fascinates me, but I rarely find myself wishing I had been there for a first-hand experience. Sure, I've been around for some key moments anyway: despite being young, I can clearly recall the emotions and amazement arising from Nelson Mandela's walk to freedom, or from those over-due cracks appearing in the Berlin Wall. But the Armstrong and Aldrin adventure sadly occurred a full decade-plus before I burst onto the planet. Reading with fervour, and a warm glow, I wondered at the true global nature of the event, when all corners and kinds of humanity - including their Space Race arch-rivals the Russians - were willing them on to succeed. Will there ever be another time, I pondered, that our dying race can pull together and revel in the glory of a unifying goal achieved? A challenge overcome to benefit all mankind?
I very much doubt it. I think we're more likely to continue on in our selfish, self-absorbed, self-centred, centralised, introverted individual lifestyles while joining forces to rape and pillage the world of all its resources until we render it totally unliveable for us all.
Like I said early on - I was drunk and melancholy.

RC 22-7-09