July 20, 1969.
I was sleeping at my grandparents’ house in suburban Indianapolis when my Mother woke me and brought me into the TV room. Apollo 11 was on the Moon, and it seemed like a fantasy to my nine-year-old mind. I remember the TV’s glow in the dark. I remember Neil Armstrong talking to Mission Control. Watching it live was one of those “you had to be there” moments.
To a growing number of people online, the Moon landing didn’t happen. It was an elaborate hoax. Humans never left the planet. How could they? It’s impossible. I read these theories, not because I take them seriously, but because I’m usually bored. And denial in the face of facts fascinates me.
If humans never left the planet, much less landed on the Moon, then thousands of people would be in on the conspiracy. You’d think that by now, at least a few dozen would’ve spoken out. Not that this would matter to those who disbelieve.
One of the allures of social media is that, to quote William S. Burroughs (who cited others), nothing is true, everything is permitted. Anyone can say anything they want, facts be damned. And a fair number of people go along with it. What other option do they have?
Negation serves a purpose -- this didn’t happen, that can’t possibly happen. Negation is soothing. If you accept that life is chaotic and cannot be tamed, then perhaps you’ll find some measure of peace. That humans walked on an extraterrestrial terrain during my adolescence is my peace. I think about it every time I look to the sky, especially at night, when it matters.