Capture the Moment
This tiny grainy underexposed image of the crescent moon is remarkable in one respect--the timing. Fifty-three summers ago, on television "LIVE FROM THE MOON," I had just watched Neil Armstrong's first steps at the base of the ladder at Tranquility Base. At 15, I grabbed my first serious camera and dashed to the driveway. From my northern Ohio vantage point, the moon was low in the west. I positioned myself to catch it through a break among trees and released the shutter. I dashed back inside to watch Buzz Aldrin climb down to the surface.
The moon's image is tiny, about a quarter millimeter in diameter. My first telephoto lens was still a few months in the future, and I had exposed a 35 mm frame of Ektachrome using the camera's original 55 mm lens at f1.8, 1/250 of a second. Because Ektachrome is a direct-positive film, the slide I rephotographed today (17 July 2022) is the very piece of film exposed at that magic moment in 1969.
Capture the Moment
This tiny grainy underexposed image of the crescent moon is remarkable in one respect--the timing. Fifty-three summers ago, on television "LIVE FROM THE MOON," I had just watched Neil Armstrong's first steps at the base of the ladder at Tranquility Base. At 15, I grabbed my first serious camera and dashed to the driveway. From my northern Ohio vantage point, the moon was low in the west. I positioned myself to catch it through a break among trees and released the shutter. I dashed back inside to watch Buzz Aldrin climb down to the surface.
The moon's image is tiny, about a quarter millimeter in diameter. My first telephoto lens was still a few months in the future, and I had exposed a 35 mm frame of Ektachrome using the camera's original 55 mm lens at f1.8, 1/250 of a second. Because Ektachrome is a direct-positive film, the slide I rephotographed today (17 July 2022) is the very piece of film exposed at that magic moment in 1969.