Back on the ground

The Apollo 11 crew returned to Earth forty years ago today, splashing down in the Pacific Ocean about 15 miles from the recovery ship, The Hornet, which dispatched its helicopter and recovered Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins about an hour later.

Over these last nine days, we've had fun looking back at the historic mission of Apollo 11 and the first moonwalk. During that time, we've lost a legendary journalist, Walter Cronkite, famed for his honesty and serious journalism while bringing a human touch to the events of the day, one of the most iconic being his coverage of our first manned mission to the surface of the moon.

Cronkite, as we've also seen, narrated Spaceship Earth, itself that iconic geodesic sphere marking the entrance to EPCOT Center, an attraction reflecting back on the history of communications, how progress in methods of communication have helped create the world we live in today, and where it can take us to tomorrow.

For most people, the space program promised progress on a grand scale, inspiration to excel in science and mathematics, to learn the secrets of the universe, to solve the myriad problems we faced at home on Earth, the political, social, ethical, humanitarian, cultural, religious, scientific and even mundane issues that confront humanity on a day to day basis. Or maybe that's just the impression of my generation, whose memories begin with man on the moon and proceed from there, for whom even the Vietnam War was not a strong cultural influence, whose first real memories of a President are of Gerald Ford. (My first real-time, vivid political memory is Richard Nixon's resignation and the jubilation that the criminal would no longer be our president. Although I had a vague awareness before that date that Nixon was a bad guy - I'm sure discussions of Watergate filled my home - which probably affected my political orientation growing up, I don't recall ever watching any of that on television or really being in touch, as a 4 and 5 year old, with the issues of the day.)

Perhaps for people older than me, the space race was a critical test of America in the Cold War, and the moon landing merely a victory over communism. The beeping of Sputnik as it passed every 98 minutes excited a dystopian vision for some of the Cold War generation that the Soviet's would destroy America under the threat that they could just zap us away from their orbit in the skies. It took our steps on the moon put us back in charge of the heavens and world destiny.

Maybe my vision is more Gene Roddenberry and Walt Disney. But I don't think so, having just watched Walter Cronkite's coverage of Apollo 11 again and for the first time. I saw that same wonder and amazement and hope and vision. In two simple, heartfelt words, Cronkite reflected a true American spirit, a spirit embodied in the way that JFK transformed a space race given birth by fear into one of exploration and ingenuity and accomplishment. "Oh boy!"

Scientifically, we've come a long, long way since 1969. Some look at the fact that we haven't been back to the moon since 1972 as a failure of vision or motivation or science. I'm not sure I would agree. We continue to explore our solar system, our galaxy and our universe, through the extraordinary Mars exploration rovers Spirit and Opportunity and the Phoenix Mars lander, through the Galileo mission to Jupiter and Cassini-Huygens to Saturn and Voyager 2 continuing on to the outer reaches of the solar system, and through the Hubble space telescope; and though ongoing scientific exploration of the universe at the microscopic level through particle physics, particularly with the completion of the Large Hadron Collider at CERN in Europe. If these incredible explorations of our universe fail to inspire the collective imagination, it's not because of a failure of scientific vision.

Back on Earth, we seem to have given up on hope and inspiration and wonder, in exchange for quick thrills and manufactured drama. The visions of Roddenberry's Star Trek and Disney's Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow have given way to JJ Abrams' Trek, and a theme park called "Epcot." The inspirational visions borne out of exploration in Trek are replaced by a darker vision of young men thrust into the unknown to fight against genocidal lunacy. EPCOT's Horizons was replaced by the thrill of being a test track dummy (OK, this replaced the dreadful World of Motion pavilion, but you get the point) and a ride that creates G-force sufficient to trigger life-threatening heart failure in a tiny portion of its guests. The Wonders of Life at EPCOT is just shuttered up.

Yet buried in that quest for the explosive thrill is something deeper, the idea that people working together can make great things happen. Lurking behind the crass commercialism of branding all elements of Disney's kingdom is the return of a new Hall of Presidents that takes pride in the America it represents, a revamped and modernized Spaceship Earth, and simple touches designed to immerse guests into something more than a spinning ride.

This weekend we're going to try to get the kids to put down the DS and the iPod, and head out to the Kennedy Space Center, and try to get another taste of what the wonder was all about.