Fifty and Counting... Posts, That Is 2013-W31

An extra long post today, but hopefully justified...

This appears to be my fiftieth post on the Painterly Thoughts blog, which means the one year anniversary is coming up in a month or so.  In that time, the blog has had over 1300 visits, welcoming readers from nearly three dozen countries.  Whether you check in regularly or intermittently, thanks for your patronage!

While preparing the Salon deWinchester blog posts over the years, on two or three occasions I took the opportunity to write longer blogs to make up for the shortfall of picture content.  In retrospect, I see that these posts were the seminal force behind the Painterly Thoughts blog.  Re-presented below in its entirety is the last of these posts, the spark as it were, from September 1, 2012.  Enjoy, and y'all come back!

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The late 1960's were a time of social upheaval and wars, hot and cold.  Fortunately I was a pre-teen who paid little attention to these boring matters as I rolled up my stack of newspapers for afternoon delivery—though I still clearly remember the day Judy Garland died in June, 1969.  That was a surprise.  Big headline.  But nothing to compare with what was to come a month later.

Like most families of the era, we had dutifully watched every NASA launch and splashdown on grainy black-and-white televisions.  We as a nation celebrated every incremental achievement in the space race.  We mourned the terrible disaster of Apollo 1.  And now, a month after Judy's passing, Apollo 11 was in orbit around the moon.  The Eagle was about to land...

I don't remember who was delivering the newspapers on my route, because I was 300 miles away on a solo visit to my Grandmother—and she had a color TV!  We watched tensely as the Eagle drifted downward but off course... finally landing safely on the moon.  Astronauts Aldrin and Armstrong began the six hours of preparations.  The moment was nearly upon us.

I remember vividly how my Grandmother and I, along with 500 million other people, sat awestruck watching the Eagle's hatch open.  Then came 17 agonizing minutes while Neil Armstrong slowly descended, finally lifting his left foot from the pad and setting it down on the moon.  A famous phrase was uttered.   I was amazed and elated.  What a time to be alive!  To this day, I earnestly believe that moment to be mankind's crowning achievement.

Often I wonder what marvels might yet be revealed in what remains of my lifetime.  Will someone walk on Mars?  Will we see proof that we are not alone in the Universe?  Time will tell.  Meanwhile, today's painting is in part to mourn Neil Armstrong's passing last week.  He bore the weight of being The First Man on the Moon with dignity the rest of his life.  But today's painting also celebrates the legacy left us by all the brave Astronauts of the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo missions.  Hip Hip Hurrah!

Imprint of a Small Step

p.s. This famous bootprint was made by Buzz Aldrin, testing the properties of the lunar regolith.  Good job, Buzzer.