Forty years ago this month I walked on the moon with Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin. The odds are good that you did, too, if you were within the reach of a television or radio on that July 20. My family and 10-year-old self were vacationing on Cape Cod at the time, but my attention was mostly 230,000 miles overhead. With whelk shells in the silky white dunes, I rehearsed the lunar module’s landing dozens of times along audacious flight plans that NASA would no doubt have discouraged.
For days I watched news anchor Walter Cronkite take America on tours of mission control and interview scientists and engineers about what the astronauts might find in the Sea of Tranquillity. Film clips recalled past fantasies of lunar exploration, from the French 1902 short Le Voyage dans la Lune to the 1950 classic Destination Moon. To this day, I remember learning about the Great Moon Hoax of 1835, which claimed that telescopes had seen bat-winged humanoids flitting through lunar caverns.
But even without bat people on the moon, the universe we were expanding into felt glorious. And that was why my family and I (and probably you and yours) cheered on that late Sunday afternoon when the Eagle lander touched down safely. That night I stayed up past my bedtime to watch every second of grainy televised footage of Armstrong and Aldrin on the lunar surface. Every detail of what I heard and saw after the “That’s one small step for man” speech is a blur today and might have been at the time, too, because the overwhelming thought in my head was that we were on the moon.
That is why I have always felt that part of the absolute best popular science writing can do is to bring audiences along with the scientists and help them share personally in the adventure of those explorations, even if the scientists never wander outside a laboratory and the readers never wander outside a comfortable chair.
Twenty years ago this month I walked in the door and found a desk at Scientific American. It was both intimidating and exciting to be working at the source of such classic, inspirational articles as Harry J. Jerison’s 1976 piece on comparative brain size and evolution, Alan H. Guth and Paul J. Steinhardt’s 1984 essay on the inflationary theory of cosmology and R. W. Sperry’s 1964 description of split-brain studies. After nearly 15 years as editor in chief, I still find it intimidating and exciting.
That is time enough for racking up accomplishments (and mistakes); for my own sake and Scientific American’s, I am taking another walk. But I am overjoyed that Mariette DiChristina, our executive editor for the past eight years, will be taking over for me: she will do a stupendous job of moving this magazine forward while protecting what makes it unique and valuable. Even if I had written this farewell differently, I would have lacked the space to express my gratitude and love for the colleagues here, past and present, who have supported, taught and befriended me beyond all bounds of duty. My last, best advice for anyone who seeks it is simply this: never forget what it meant when we were on the moon.
Note: This article was originally printed with the title, "My Moon Landing."
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9 Comments
Add Comment"Forty years ago this month I walked on the moon ... The odds are good that you did, too,"
Reply | Report Abuse | Link to this-- old people like to dwell in the past.
-- most people are younger than 40.
"-- old people like to dwell in the past.
Reply | Report Abuse | Link to this-- most people are younger than 40." Young people are rightfully focused on the future, but the future is in large part a product of the past. By knowing about what happened in the past, you better understand what you can do in the present to achieve the future you want. The moon landing was one of the significant events that should form the very minimum of the store of knowledge that you need to shape the future. If a mere 40 years ago seems irrelevant to you, then you have very little power to get to the future you desire. Believe me: those under 40 now who understand this will be the ones in charge when the are 50.
I agree the moon landing was a very significant event.
Reply | Report Abuse | Link to thisIt's really sad that we've gone from Vietnam war to Irak war, from big national debt to super huge national debt, from moon landing to nothing.
And on the actual topic: Thank you, John, for what you made out of Scientific American. I have been enjoying the last 20 years of print edition, and will continue to read it and check what Marietta will do in the future.
Reply | Report Abuse | Link to thisI remember stepping outside that night. The moon was overhead and I could hear astronauts' voices broadcast over TV. It's still stunning. Happy trails, John. Keep us posted.
Reply | Report Abuse | Link to thisFrom this scientific Briton, who watched Neil step onto the Moon at 4 o'clock in the morning UK time, best wishes for your next step, John; and thanks for all your good work -and those thoughtful editorials - in Scientific American.
Reply | Report Abuse | Link to thisHello, John Rennie. I like much your recollects, I want talk with you. If you can reply. You would be very gentle thank you.
Reply | Report Abuse | Link to thisScientific American has always been my favourite magzine. I read every article on it.
Reply | Report Abuse | Link to thisThank you for your work and effort for the past 20 years!
I saw this John Rennie JackAss on some worthless Discovery Channel show about the end of the word. He is an embarrassment to Sci Am and should resign. Why should I subscribe to a magazine that claims to be about rational thought and then see this slug pandering to the lowest common denominator. He is a cancer that has to be removed.
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