As the minutes and seconds ticked down toward the launch of NASA’s Artemis II mission Wednesday evening, I felt unexpectedly emotional.
I wasn’t sure why I felt like crying. All I knew was that what I was watching was triggering the same sorts of feelings I used to have as a small child watching Apollo rockets launch missions which finally reached the moon.
And then it hit me.
As a child watching humans reach toward space, I was full of optimism about the future. We were breaking free of the confines of this planet. Humans were going to leave their known world — once again — and try to build something new elsewhere.
We were reaching for a new start. We were going to bring Star Trek to life.
And as I watched the countdown to the launch of Artemis II today — with tears in my eyes — I realized why it was so emotional to watch this.
All of my fears and frustrations and anger about our society today faded just slightly. I was emotional to feel just a tiny bit of the optimism and hope that I felt as a child.
Maybe — just maybe — we might still overcome the darkest parts of what we’re doing to ourselves. Maybe we could still overcome all the challenges we face.
Maybe I could feel hope again for the future of humanity.
The launch was less than half an hour ago. Plenty could still go wrong. I’m not even certain that this mission — to spend days orbiting the moon, but not landing — is even worthwhile.
But symbolically, it meant something to me.
In the rush of emotions I felt after the rocket safely launched four people into space, I had all sorts of images from my past. Some were from Apollo missions. Skylab. The space shuttle. Some were images from classic science fiction books in which space travel and exploration were just common and normal.
I know that launching one very expensive rocket toward the moon doesn’t mean all those other things have come true. But it makes me feel something which goes beyond rational conclusions.
In this moment, I’m not worried about a dysfunctional culture. I’m not worried about politicians leading us into financial ruin or pointless wars or social collapse.
Right now, I’m a 6-year-old boy who’s optimistic that humans can once again explore new worlds and build new civilizations.
I hadn’t realized until this moment how desperate I’ve been to feel this sort of hope once again.

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