It has been 41 years. This is both the strangest and saddest museum I've ever been to in my life. That's Saturn V, all of it from pitch motor to engines, and behind it along the wall you can vaguely see some exhibits -- they're dedicated to every man who was launched to the moon's orbit during the Apollo program, and the few that didn't make it. It's something I feel strongly about, because in my opinion those men are heroes of the highest order. I think we should probably have to memorize their names in school, and of course I think we should go back. When Neil Armstrong died we lost one of perhaps three men who have a chance of being remembered by the human race in 500,000 years. That way lies our future, and I'm getting more and more resigned to the fact that it will be after my lifetime when we realize it again.
I guess. I'm fully aware of the various privatized plans for Mars. And sometimes I even dream of being born on Earth and dying on a different planet. In the grand scheme of human history, there will never be a greater dichotomy possible in a single lifetime, and if this is the century for it I'll be incredibly grateful. But I'm skeptical of the finite potential of the private sector to fund space travel at this moment (not in the distant future -- there will be money in it then). Like almost all subjects, I'm sure I've written on this at greater length on hubski before.