That was then; this is now.

Sixty years ago today, we witnessed a triumph of human courage and ingenuity.

Ed White, June 3, 1965. This photo remains as stunning today as it was 60 years ago.

Sixty years ago today, Ed White opened the hatch of his Gemini IV space capsule and used a handheld maneuvering oxygen-jet gun to push himself out of the capsule into space 150 miles above the Earth. The first American spacewalk started over the Pacific Ocean near Hawaii and lasted 23 minutes, ending over the Gulf of Mexico. At the end of the EVA, White told the world over his radio, “I'm coming back in... and it's the saddest moment of my life.”

I watched all of this as an 8-year-old boy living in South Florida who wanted to grow up to study space. This photo depicts everything I regard as wonderful, noble, brave, and ingenious about the human race. This photo is why I became a physicist. It’s also why cerulean blue on white is my favorite color scheme. I’m reasonably sure that this moment was where I came up with my lifelong guiding philosophy: life’s short, then you’re dead a long time. Why waste time when there are so many wonderful adventures to be had?

I’ve written a lot lately about the contrast between then and now. Relax, I do not intend to beat that particular dead horse any longer (at least not today). All I will say is that the kind of people who dared to dream, then plan, then execute such way-out-on-the-edge things were then and still are my kind of people. That combination of ruthless competence and the balls of a burglar will always be my guiding star.

Back then, NASA was filled with engineers who could calculate lunar trajectories on the back of napkins with slide rules. Very smart and hard-working people. The ranks of the astronauts in the Mercury, Gemini and Apollo programs were filled with men who’d flown combat missions in WWII and Korea and in peacetime flew the Bell X-1, Lockheed F-104 Starfighters, and the North American X-15. It’s a toss-up over which missions led to lower life expectancies. These gentlemen were not wussies. What they accomplished still amazes me.

In the 21st century, NASA astronauts express ingenuity a little differently. Not by spacewalks or repairing a seriously damaged Apollo Service Module in a translunar trajectory with duct tape and spare parts, but by wearing Depends for a 900-mile journey from Texas to Florida to pepper-spray a romantic rival.

OK, I feel your look; I did beat the dead horse a little. But just a little. And besides, I hedged with intend. It’s just difficult to contain myself. It’s like watching an eephus pitch drift your way in the batter’s box with a 36-ounce Louisville Slugger on your shoulder.

James McDivitt, White’s partner who commanded Gemini V, later went on to command Apollo 9. After a long and fruitful time on earth, he passed away just a few years ago. White, along with Gus Grissom and Roger Chaffee, unfortunately perished in Apollo 1 a few years after this photo was taken.

I never got to go into space, but I did get to work for NASA under several contracts. I did teach astronomy and astrophysics for several decades. And I always let smart and unafraid guide me everywhere. All of this inspired by the photo above.

Godspeed, James McDivit and Ed White. And, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Associated Press and Idaho Press Club-winning columnist Martin Hackworth of Pocatello is a physicist, writer, and retired Idaho State University faculty member who now spends his time with family, riding bicycles and motorcycles, and arranging and playing music. Follow him on Twitter @MartinHackworth, on Facebook at facebook.com/martin.hackworth, and on Substack at martinhackworthsubstack.com