| Editor's note: This is a special edition of our weekly Speaking of Science newsletter in honor of the moon landing's 50th anniversary. The moon that Michael Collins first glimpsed through the small, square windows of the spacecraft Columbia was far more alien than any photo he had ever seen. It was certainly unlike anything he had glimpsed from the ground. "The moon was not a flat silver disk," the Apollo 11 command module pilot told The Washington Post this year. "The dark seems darker. The light seems lighter. There was more contrast to the surface. It was just a totally different moon than I had grown up with. It was awesome." But the real view, Collins has said, was that of Earth: "Small, shiny, serene, blue and white, fragile." "I really believe," he said, "that if the political leaders of the world could see their planet from a distance of 100,000 miles their outlook could be fundamentally changed." Rereading those words this week, on the 50th anniversary of Collins' historic mission alongside Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, I was reminded of the first time I saw the moon up close. Not so close as Collins, of course, but closer than I had ever seen it. It was about two years ago, I was new to science reporting, and I had never looked through a telescope. So, I talked my way into a personal stargazing session University of Maryland Observatory. The half moon was high and bright in a darkening sky, and as Elizabeth Warner, the Observatory director, swiveled the telescope toward it, she advised me: "It's not the moon you know."  The view of Earth from the moon during Apollo 11. (NASA) She was right. Like Collins, I had spent most of my life seeing the moon as merely a distant disk. Now I saw it in three dimensions. I saw the dark volcanic plains and pale pock marks left by asteroid impacts. I saw the way the sunlight illuminated rugged mountain ranges and cast long shadows across deep craters. I saw geology, history, and stories still untold etched on that ancient surface. It was a new moon. Not just a light in my sky, but a world unto itself. There was an intimacy to that moment — to finally seeing something for what it truly is. And though I had never been more aware of the vast void between Earth and everything that lies beyond, I had never felt closer to being in space. This was the universe, and I was a part of it. This, I think, is one of the most compelling aspects of the Apollo mission. Yes, it was a human triumph. It was a technical feat, a scientific success, a geopolitical coup. But it was also a voyage of discovery. It deepened our understanding. It broadened our vision. It added to what we know about our corner of the universe, and in doing so, it helped us know ourselves. Today I want to share with you some of the incredible work the Post has published the past few months to celebrate half-century since the moon landing. There are stories about science, history and politics, interviews with astronauts and with the people who made their flights possible. And hopefully, somewhere in these pages, you too will make a discovery. Something that helps you understand our cosmos more clearly. Something that helps you feel as I do: awed by the universe, and glad to be a part of it. |
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