I'm blogging from the space finance session at the conference (we finally got power in the room, so I don't have to worry about my battery dying).

Thirty-eight years ago, the first men walked on the moon. In December, it will have been thirty-five years since the last footsteps occurred there. The conference I'm attending is about figuring out ways to keep it from being that long before it happens again.

James Lileks has additional thoughts, as does Alan K. Henderson, and there's still time to celebrate it with a commemorative dinner tonight.

Also, blogging will probably continue to be light. The wireless connection here is sporadic and iffy. However, Clark Lindsey is diligently blogging the conference. Just keep scrolling.

Because of the 19-year "metonic cycle," and since 38 = 19 * 2, the Moon will be in nearly the same place in the sky (near Spica, in Virgo) and at the same phase (waxing crescent, 35% sunlit) tonight as on 7/20/1969.

I have two lasting memories of the first Moon landing. First and obviously, I was in awe, I grew up waiting for that day. Watching all the work and space shots that went before that time. I was just floored to finally see pictures from the moon. Then too see Armstrong step down...wow.

My second memory of that day is my fathers reaction to the landing. Never one to hold his tongue or curb his verbiage, as soon as Walter Cronkite said, "Those are live pictures from the Moon..." My father said, "..and if it was me, I'd run out there, fill my G/D pockets up with rocks, jump back in there and make sure that SOB is gonna fly me home."

My dad died last year and I miss him a lot, but stuff like that will put a smile on my face forever.

Thanks Neil for the Moon, and Thanks a lot Pop, for everything.