‘Moonstruck’ Memories
A planetarium from childhood and the 1972 moon walk
Many boomers have moonstruck memories from childhood planetarium visits and stargazing and space travel accomplishments. Now we all have another memory to treasure. In this “From Our Readers” entry, Carol Giuliani describes the impact of Artemis 2.
Long before there was anywhere known as Disney World or Disneyland, I had my own special place where I went with my father. Once a year starting at the age of 6 my father would take me to New York City to the Museum of Natural History, and then in the afternoon we would go to the Hayden Planetarium around the corner.
This is the first place where I got my wonderous interest in anything related to astronomy. I just knew that the stars were a special present that was given to me each year. When we were seated in the Planetarium, I would lean back and be transported to the galaxy in the sky above me filled with colorful twinkling stars, comets, and the planets. Even then, from this reclining position, I felt like I was on some special ship going through the stars. This fostered my interest in astronomy but just from a book and movie standpoint.
In 1962 when I was working in the city, my friend and I went down to the Canyon of Heroes parade on Wall Street on our lunch to see John Glenn. He had just circled the earth, and it was inspiring to see someone who had gone that far and had done such a spectacular thing in my eyes. It was also because he was a national hero at the time and someone who appeared to be such a decent person who you could imagine living next door.
I really could not tell you much about any rockets going anywhere after that time or the astronauts who flew them. My life became entangled in the normal everyday things that move a family along the line of growing.
The only other launch which stands out in my mind was the moon walk in 1972. Since then it has really not been a high point in my life until this last moon mission of Artemis 2. What was it about this moon shot that captured the hearts of the world. Four astronauts, three men and one woman, seeing what no one else has ever seen on the dark side of the moon. I remember asking my dad one time at the planetarium what was eternity, and he said there is no end – it just goes on and on. This is what that must have been like 700,00 miles away.
These four astronauts were different in another way. We became familiar and attached to their stories of loss, love, and how each of them got to the point of going where no one else has ever gone.
They humanized space exploration. Their personalities, smiles, jokes, and the fact that they were so much in awe also of everything they were seeing.
They also reminded me that for all four of them, there were people left behind who had gone into quarantine for them and who were waiting for a safe return. You could almost hear a universal sigh of relief when they splashed down on Friday night at 7:07.
Personally, for me as a nurse, the most rouching tribute was the naming of the lunar crater on the bright side of the moon. This was named after Astronaut Reid Wiseman’s wife Carroll, a NICU nurse practitioner who passed away from cancer in 2020 at 46 years old. They said it was a bright spot on the moon. When Wiseman wiped the tears after the naming, it was like the whole earth reached for a tissue. It showed us that no matter how technical, mathematical, and calculating these missions are, there is always the human factor.
What I saw was kindness, not in the words they said but how they respected and treated each other. They were perfectly matched. No one person took the spotlight and they melded into a representation of everyone.
For nine days the world responded to them, monitored them, and took them into their hearts. They showed how working side by side in such a small space, compassion and respect can still thrive.
Sitting alone in my living room on Friday night, I cheered when they emerged from the helicopter walking and waving. I cheered not just for their safe return but for all the good pure feelings they were able to bring back to a world filled with wars, destruction, and hate.
It was a lesson to my 6-year-old self with my head raised to the “sky” that there is so much more and that eternity is waiting.
Carol Giuliani is a Licensed Registered Nurse and a former of professor of nursing for a college on Long Island. She has been a nurse for over 52 years and her career has included working as a nurse in a prison, pediatric psychiatry, and Director of Adolescent Programs for a private hospital on Long Island. Since her retirement, she has found an outlet in creative writing, which brings her great satisfaction. She loves writing about nostalgia and the years growing up in a very happy household.
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