Dear Neil Armstrong,

You were the first non-fictional person I ever identified, in my mind, as a hero. You had achieved the Star Trek dream when most people were still being impressed by color TVs. You boldly went where no man had gone before. The best part about this is that it wasn’t one of those awful Western “discoveries” where a European dude showed up and claimed to be the first person to set foot on the island, despite the thousands of natives looking at his ship in awe and wonder (not that I don’t respect the adventure and cartography of Captain Cook). You literally went where no living anything had gone before.

On the night of your death I was at my father’s house and we sat around for a long time talking about exploration, and Mars, and humanity’s best hope for breaking out of the single biosphere we’ve been locked into for the past ever. We talked about how amazingly brave you’d have to be to step outside of that module for the first time, and how acceptable it would be to pee in your suit from excitement, while crying tears of joy. Instead, you just made a small statement and then got to work. Never mind that this is the single greatest human scientific achievement ever, I’ve got rocks to pick up.

We also winked at the moon, like you asked us and sighed, realizing that we’d probably never get the opportunity to set foot on another celestial body, and that it would be decades more before a human would sleep on Mars. You’ve taken the largest step man can take and, because of you, mankind will continue to make great leaps.

Thank you so much.

Love,

Elijah