Last week President Trump via NASA announced plans to land a woman on the moon would be a part of space exploration in the not too far future. I have just got to say, it doesn’t sound too bad. Like, how can I signup?

When I have gazed upon the moon throughout my entire life, I think I see a calmness not experienced here on my home planet, not in my lifetime; maybe I need a new planet? Just saying …

Of course, I could not qualify to be the first and only woman on the moon. I’m too chatty. But I am certain the inspiration experienced when becoming a moon-nite would bring a new slant for my storytelling.

Ah, as I daydream about life on the moon; the first thing on the list would be the enjoyment of the sounds of silence and I like to think sweet, clear air and water. But wait a minute, according to https://tinyurl.com/humans-on-the-moon, the moon is really a craggy rock, 2,000 miles in diameter. One theory, the possible origin goes that a Mars-sized planetoid rammed into Earth 4.5 billion years ago and a chunk of cosmic shrapnel flew into Earth’s orbit, becoming the moon.

What is concerning, according to a Life Noggin video, YouTube, Life on the Moon, the daytime high temp reaches 250F and nighttime lows -380F, the day/night cycles are equivalent to 14 Earth days each and the land, if you can call it land, is actually ground up stone, minerals and glass.

Maybe some women would enjoy life 24/7 on a beach without ocean waters, but not this one. And in order for nine neighbors to go along, the cost is estimated as 10 billion dollars. Yikes! But my question, would they be nice neighbors? If not, life on the moon might not be calming after all.

I read at www.theweek.co.uk/space/100126/can-humans-live-on-the-moon, water molecules found on the lunar surface today may aid in understanding the lunar water cycle and will ultimately help us learn about accessibility of water that can be used by humans in future missions to the moon.

Yes, water would be good to have but would it be bottled and what about coffee? Will moon water make a nice cup for breakfast? Just random thoughts here but best to be prepared, my granny always said.

But again, I like to think of Earth’s moon, as observed on a clear, cloudless night, especially the harvest moon, as a lovely, presentation celebrated down through the centuries. I have listed a few observations made by the ancient world:

In many prehistoric and ancient cultures, the moon was personified as a deity or other supernatural phenomenon, and astrological views of the moon continue to be propagated today. In Proto-Indo-European religion, the moon was personified as the male god.

The ” Man in the Moon” refers to several images of a human face, head or body that certain people in ancient times recognized in the disc of the full moon. In some of the Aztec depictions.

“In the earliest times, when the moon was not yet in the heavens,” say the tribesmen of Chibchas (1). Africa also provides its own evidence. According to Zulu legend, the moon was brought hundreds of generations ago by two brothers of alien form, Wowane and Mpanku.

The ancient Greek scientist Empedocles had also declared that the moon was made of glass. Such precise knowledge implies on-site inspection of the moon in the remote past.

No doubt, the moon is fascinating and that first woman who lands there, well, she just might change things up. I look forward to her alterations. I hope she is a poet and then such writings as Emily Dickinson’s poem below will take on a new meaning.

THE MOON

Emily Dickinson

The moon was but a chin of gold

A night or two ago,

And now she turns her perfect face

Upon the world below.

Her forehead is of amplest blond;

Her cheek like beryl stone;

Her eye unto the summer dew

The likest I have known.

Her lips of amber never part;

But what must be the smile

Upon her friend she could bestow

Were such her silver will!

And what a privilege to be

But the remotest star!

For certainly her way might pass

Beside your twinkling door.

Her bonnet is the firmament,

The universe her shoe,

The stars the trinkets at her belt,

Her dimities of blue.

Anne B. McKee is a Mississippi historian, writer and storyteller. She is listed on the Mississippi Humanities Speakers Bureau and Mississippi Arts Commission’s Performing Artist and Teaching Artist Rosters. See her web site: www.annemckeestoryteller.com.