And That's The Way It Was

Forty years ago today, in what hopefully will never be a footnote in a history book, two men landed a spacecraft on the surface of the Moon. While Michael Collins circled above, Buzz Aldrin (shown here) and Neil Armstrong (reflected in Buzz's visor) were the first from Earth to walk on a truly alien surface. Supported by a nameless and faceless cast of tens of thousands, these men had accomplished something previously thought to be beyond rationality.

To land on the Moon, explore its dusty, desolate surface, and to come home alive was something at the time we could only dream about, read of in the stories of Robert Heinlein, or fantasize about while watching Star Trek. Indeed, for those old enough to remember, the Space Age on Earth began in the 1960s, well before microwave ovens (thank you, NASA), velcro (again, thank you, NASA), PCs, Macs, CDs, DVDs, DVRs, and warp drive (NASA, we're waiting).

While they were on the Moon we were, get this, rolling our car windows up and down by hand, getting up to change the channel on our black and white television set, and getting full meals with linen in Coach on flights from Cleveland to New York City. Not only were there no cell phones, we were actually dialing our phones. Speaking of phones, according to NASA the PDA you're carrying probably is more powerful than the computers on Apollo 11, the mission that took us to the moon.

But, despite the dearth of technology, they did it! And they did it with courage, a commitment that transcended conventional wisdom, and with a singular focus that enabled them to overcome the vast number of challenges standing between Earth and the Moon. Without doubt, an unparalleled accomplishment.

And to whom should we give credit for this explosion of creativity, productivity and, ultimately, a romantic stroll by two guys on the surface of the moon that would change us forever?

Thats' right. John Kennedy.

You know the story: On May 25, 1961 President Kennedy announced before a special joint session of Congress the audacious -- some thought reckless -- goal of sending an American safely to and from the Moon before the end of the decade. He had his reasons -- national security, a 'space race' with the Soviet Union -- but he didn't have the first clue as to how to get it done. But there he was, in front of Congress, stating that we would go to the Moon in less than nine years. Truly a bold, inspirational goal. A grand vision for a country which, while in the midst of the Cold War, did not have its eyes turned to the stars. A high-risk challenge to an entire administration if not the entire country. Yet, less than nine years later, Neil is taking home movies of Buzz from 239,000 miles from home.

Now that's what I call leadership. Setting a bold goal. Inspiring others to act brilliantly, to accomplish something extraordinary. And, critically, achieving that goal. Alas, Kennedy did not live to see Buzz and Neil play on the Moon but that in no way diminishes his role in this fantastic achievement. (And who knows? Maybe had Kennedy lived we'd now be using warp drive.)

In the midst of recalling this example of great leadership and the accomplishments it inspired, let us also remember someone who played an important role in our quest for the Moon. Someone who was an outstanding leader in his own right. Someone we trusted. Someone who was honest with us even as he was the consummate professional. His sadness in reporting the death of John Kennedy. His bold statements about the stalemate of the Viet Nam war. His joy in watching Armstrong walk on the Moon. You taught us a ton, Walter, and we'll miss you.

One last thought: Who might you inspire this week to act brilliantly, to achieve something extraordinary? Don't be shy. This is a good week for inspiration.