11 months ago
39
Without a doubt, this memory can be far clearer than that of some other: to open the LEGO Ideas NASA Apollo Saturn V set felt like really one of the very early times-after that warm Saturday morning in early spring of the year 2020-such feelings exceedingly propelled you into starting afresh on a brand-new project filled with reminiscences all linked with the nostalgic aura of childhood toys-buildings-maybe one of humankind’s greatest accomplishments: landing on the moon.
The sound of cardboard scratching to open the whole treasure of neatly packed bags of bricks, colorful and bright instruction manuals, and a cool collection of astronaut minifigures. A shuddering thrill went through me just by staring at it. Other than the fact that this is the very rocket that would have sent its gallant men into outer space, one must have a model of this very rocket that would change their entire perception of the universe.
Well, by the time I got to my improvised building site, I had nearly restrained a scream of joy. Every bag arranged and numbered. It was really intuitive assembly. Well, the first bag was opened, and as the bricks started to come together, the signature shape of the Saturn V began emerging. I drifted away with the rhythmic click of bricks while occasionally searching for that critical piece; it suddenly became a game instead of drudgery. The building became almost meditative as layer after layer went on, symbolizing not a rocket but the dreams and aspirations of millions staring up at the stars.
Every layer meant a victory on its own; in that first layer, the memory life leaned toward being nostalgic in somewhat childish realms that were the simple imprints of LEGO sets, while new challenges lay ahead to keep it interesting. This was not for the fainthearted; it would teach resilience, and at times enjoying that little victory wall toward getting there is quite the joy on its own. Found a lot of worth in doing; stop oftentimes to appreciate the finer details-those little printed markings bearing NASA insignias and mission details would be a plus.
Saturn V time again, the odd bit of pride that sufficed me had made a guest appearance again-the Saturn V thing was never supposed to be an end for me, but more a hindsight linker to history, events in light of childhoidal dream. There hours without end spent outside-some sort of outside creative process that could not be like the other.
Once again, an upper module was shown hoisted to the rocket with little more than an unexpected joining of historical events probably nowhere close to team effort like in the hyped consumptive construction.
That nice little sense of achievement seemed to creep up on me quite a long time ago. It was one of those Saturn V moments: the Saturn V was never supposed to be a finished product; it was merely a temporary blending of dreams and nightmares from spacefarer childhoods. Long hours spent outside were like no other kind of creative process outside, actually.
Finally, the upper stage was made to mount upon-the-rocket, an event which, with all that’s before it, looks vast accomplishment but much less memorable than any of the other scenes leading up to this moment. Until then, just then, the real souls of astronauts played in my head, and they flew into this very unknown in a vehicle just such as this. At that moment, the world shrank a little; my sense of how very brightly humanity can shine grew somewhat.
Indeed, one fabulous element putting the exhibit of my finished model on the shelf is the incredibly silly grin that steals me every time I cross it since I can smile back at it. Brightened, it takes me back to how building and exploring-earth or beyond-is some of the best fuel of human creativity. It is not just a day of stacking bricks; today is the day of building new heights with myself.