I wish I had been one of the twelve, but I was born too late. I wish I could have stood contemplating in awe the wonder and majesty of the vision… and never wanting the moment to end. But that time is past, and I am not likely to be around when the time comes again.

I’m somewhat bitter because of it. The promise was there, and it was a promise to all. But it was a promise not kept. Oh sure, humanity may yet hope to relive those times some day in the future; we need only raise our eyes into the dark sky to be reminded of it. For it hangs there, seemingly within arm’s reach, the place where only twelve men have walked; the moon.

I hear we’re going back, perhaps to gather historic artifacts of past glory, perhaps to build a permanent outpost. We’re even supposed to reach further, to a planet holding a prominent place in the history of science fiction. Thirty-nine years ago, as we first walked on the moon, it really did seem as if we had just opened an immense frontier, and I had no doubt sometime during my lifetime I would leave Earth, perhaps for good.

Thirty-nine years later I hold little, if any, of that optimism. What little optimism I have no longer concerns my chances to venture from Earth’s grip. Rather, it concerns the hope that someday humans will thrive on distant worlds. In actuality it’s more a dream of what might have been rather than what I think is likely to ever happen.

I’ve been watching “When We Left Earth”, a somewhat terse, but visually stunning recounting of NASA’s past 50 years. I was a teenager in the early days of space exploration, and knew little about the difficulties of delivering humans to a celestial body, even one as close as the moon. Like millions of others, I watched what seemed person after person hop and skip on the dusty face of our satellite. It seemed easy, no problem at all. But really, there were only twelve who ever made it there. Also like many others, I’m pretty sure I did not follow the progress of our last visit to the moon. Apollo 17 went and returned without me giving a second thought to this being the last mission to the moon. Heck, that was old news. What’s next?

Next was a compromise. Something that reined us back in, and ensured we would not soon be tempted to slip Earth’s grasp. Don’t get me wrong; I like the Shuttle, but it’s no spaceship. And it sealed my fate as Earth-bound, save perhaps the chance passing of some alien interstellar craft. Sad to think beings from another world are my best bet to get off this rock. No matter; right now I want to dwell on the effort that got us to the moon and the likelihood we will return. It’s not a technical issue. Well, OK… it’s a bit of a technical issue. But the larger obstacle I see is the mindset. I think the majority of people no longer look at space as a promise of a new frontier. I think they look at it as a drain on resources. I also see a different attitude with respect to “acceptable losses”. A term often heard in the armed forces, it usually refers to expected casualties pursuant to a specific goal.

On the first matter, we do have millions of people living in poverty, as many dying of hunger, and millions more facing lives of misery, pain, and suffering. It seems almost obscene to spend billions of dollars pursuant to advancing knowledge toward a goal of space exploration. But it’s all relative. Billions are spent each year on vanity electronic gadgets, and billions more on watching movies that allow us to imagine, if only for a moment, we fulfilled the promise that was implied, if not outright spoken, 50 years ago. The reality is that throughout centuries the human condition improved by investing in science and technology not immediately beneficial to all. It seems a betrayal to ignore the foundation that was laid for us to reach our potential as explorers of the universe. Not just virtual explorers, but explorers physically venturing out among the stars.

But there is a cost. There is always a cost. All of the frontiers that have been explored by man have exacted a price; sometimes a heavy price in human hardship and human lives. As I watched “When We Left Earth”, I was struck by the similarity between the astronauts’ attitudes and those of early explorers of the West. Or even earlier explorers of vast oceans. They were willing to put their lives at risk for the pursuit of not just knowledge, but to actually blazon a trail to frontiers unknown. Yes, some paid the price. Someone always pays the price. But even as we speak people are paying the price for the way of life we have chosen for ourselves. The only difference is that it’s not “spectacular”. Thousands die each year as our experiment and fascination with cars continues. No one suggests we put car production on hold until such time as casualties can be eliminated. Acceptable losses. Many thousands more die every year as a direct result of chemicals, pollution, residues, etc., all part of the way we live. Acceptable losses.

But I get the impression “the public” is not willing to have acceptable losses in the space program. As a consequence, NASA moves very deliberately and cautiously. This despite a long list of people who are willing and even eager to put their lives at risk for the chance to venture into the cosmos. I hope someday they will get there… if NASA doesn’t lose its funding along the way. For yes, politics plays a major role as well. One bright note, if it can be called that, is that China will be challenging both the idea and reality of the United States as space pioneers.

One would like to think in this day and age we might look forward to a collaborative approach (fulfilling the vision of the Firefly Universe), but I’ll accept the inevitable “race” as the catalyst for our leaving the Earth. I just hope this time the end of the race will garnish us a little more than a few rocks. I hope it will launch generations to sail, with the solar wind at their back, a path to the stars.