The way I remember it, America achieved technological supremacy a few weeks before the Apollo 11 moon mission began.
That's when, to the delight of their two children, my parents decided to buy our first color television set. It was a big, wooden console model - something I doubt they even manufacture anymore - as much a piece of furniture as an electronic marvel. Even though only three channels were available, my folks decided the expense was justified given the historic magnitude of the moon landing.
I don't recall if we were first on the block to reach this pinnacle of middle-class consumerism, but I so remember the excitement once the TV finally arrived. It embodied the character of the time. To my 9-year-old mind, putting a man on the moon was hardly more astonishing than those vivid splashes of color at the beginning of "The Wonderful World of Disney." A nation capable of one could certainly accomplish the other.
The 40th anniversary of the moon landing this week was a pleasant reminder of a time when life was simpler and America could do anything. It makes me feel old, though. Admitting I predate color television forces me to acknowledge all the other technological antiques that were once my contemporaries, such as rotary telephones, antennas, box cameras and film, typewriters and cassette players. When the standard products of your childhood have become museum pieces, the term "generation gap" takes on personal meaning.
Maybe that's why I'm so ambivalent when talk now turns to returning to the moon and proceeding to Mars.
The Apollo missions were an astonishing display of American prowess, highlighting not only our ability to overcome technological challenges, but our commitment to knowledge and exploration. It was easy to be proud of a nation that took giant leaps for mankind.
But those days are history. Spending hundreds of billions of dollars on a moon+Mars shot may help us regain and surpass past glories, but is it truly relevant to the challenges we face today? Why invest in Mars rather than, say, in developing a new, abundant form of clean energy? What would it prove, other than that we can?
As part of the Star Trek generation, I realize these are outrageous - even traitorous - questions. We Trekkies aren't supposed to pass up opportunities to explore strange new worlds and boldly go where no one has gone before.
But then, reality was never a critical aspect of the Star Trek franchise. Step outside that fantasy world, look at the price tag and vast amount of resources needed to send just a few pioneers to another planet - even one-way - and you begin to realize we will never escape our terrestrial problems by packing up the interstellar Conestoga and setting out for the final frontier. As appealing as that fantasy might be, we are bound to Earth by forces far stronger than mere gravity.
That being the case, why pursue a philosophy of manned spaceflight? For the scientific knowledge we would gain? Unmanned missions like Voyager, the Hubble space telescope and Cassini have taught us much more about the solar system, and they're substantially cheaper.
For the technological challenge? Finding a replacement for oil will be just as hard, and ultimately more beneficial.
Or should we go to Mars because it fires the imagination of 9-year-olds, lifting our national spirits and demonstrating that we still dream big? I'm unconvinced. Big dreams are new dreams, not sequels, not museum pieces that have been dusted off and painted a new color.
Having been to the moon, we can already imagine going to Mars. The wonders we can't imagine ... well, I hope that's what America will continue to show the world.
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Spence covers politics for the Tribune. He may be contacted at bspence@lmtribune.com or (208) 848-2274.
