David McElroy

It was 6:30 a.m. when I stepped outside after being awake all night.

I had been writing — moving from one idea to another — creating bits and pieces of things that mostly aren’t ready to be published. Some of it had been for a book. Some had been for YouTube videos. Some had been for film projects. And part of it was for a ridiculous parody ad that I’ll use as a minor piece of a video.

Most of what I create isn’t great. Some of it is mediocre. Some of it never sees the light of day. But every now and then, something clicks and I’m able to make something really good. And when that happens, I know it.

As I stepped onto my front steps, the light breeze and gentle warmth outside were perfect. I looked above me to a beautiful moon peeking through partly cloudy skies.

Everything felt right. I was exhausted after working all night. But I felt alive.

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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.

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When I saw a friend tonight, she called me over with a conspiratorial look on her face. She looked around to make sure nobody else was listening. She wanted my opinion.

She told me she’s met a new man. She was excited about it. Almost giddy. I asked the typical questions about the man and where they met. She eagerly told me how much happier she is to have him to talk with as they’re getting to know each other.

She sounded like a 16-year-old who had just discovered love.

There’s only one problem. My friend is married. It’s a terrible marriage. They still live in the same house — with children — and there’s been a lot of talk about divorce. But she’s definitely — legally and firmly — still married.

It’s not my place to lecture someone about doing what’s right. She asked for my opinion, but I don’t think she really wanted it. I think she just wanted tacit permission to do what she wanted to do.

I outlined the issues as I saw them. I told her that if she wanted to pursue someone else, she owed it to everyone involved to finish dealing with her current situation. Otherwise, she was just going to be multiplying the drama and the stress in her life.

“You already know what to do,” I told her. “You don’t need me to tell you what’s right.”

“But this is what I want,” she said. “It makes me happy.”

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