I grew up as a child of the 70s. No, I was not wearing bell bottoms or syncing my dance moves to John Travolta (I did that when disco got cool again in the 90s). By the time I had been born in 1971, humans had stepped onto another celestial body a few times over. We had NASA fever in our household and Walter Cronkite narrated the saga; his voice hanging in the ether on hot summer nights. As a kid, I gazed at the stars and the moon with a keen sense of wonder. Madly leafing through NASA picture books, I dreamed of the future.