— Mark Casselman (@markcasselman) June 6, 2016
Hollywood screenwriter Brian Dillon wrote the movie Treatment for Only The Moon Rages by Rushton Beech. Dillon says, “Only The Moon Rages is an intriguing, thought provoking entry into the thriller genre that should sit alongside such classics as All the President’s Men and Three Days of the Condor as well as contemporary additions such as Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons and The Da Vinci Code.”
Hollywood movie or television series? Only The Moon Rages by Rushton Beech tells the story of a rare artifact discovered in Guatemala that sets in motion a plot spanning the globe that could change the course of history.
MediaMedico Labs (MML) is currently working on a short documentary film that examines, possibly the quirkiest labor protest of all time—Operation Barefoot. Why did 100 rural Wellington County Ontario doctors each walk a mile barefoot in 1993? We wondered if doctors would do it again? Could this type of plantar protest spread? Stay tuned to find out if doctors all over the world will one day doff their shoes and socks to hit the road for another hot-footed reason. Or, perhaps this Quixotic protest was really ahead of its time, the beginning of what we now call social media.
It was a sultry day in July 1974. Neil Armstrong had landed on the Moon in August five years earlier in 1969. In the interim Neil Armstrong was a celebrity equal to or more famous than aviators of the past like Lindbergh, Earhart, or even Howard Hughes. He was a legendary big draw that year to the International Plowing Match in Godrich, Ontario. This was my first news assignment for The Ontarion, the University of Guelph Student newspaper. Chris Jull, then News Editor, soon to be Editor, and friend, sent me to meet Mr. Armstrong, to interview him, and to bring back a newsworthy story for the paper.
As the main attraction to this rural big tractor event, a throng of media and adoring fans surrounded Neil, making him very hard to reach. I managed to elbow my way to the front of the barking media hounds where upon I thrust out my hand and yelped, “Mr. Armstrong, Is the Moon really made of cheese?” A moment of heavy bovine silence was shattered when Mr. Armstrong laughed, looked me in the eye, smiled, and shook my hand vigorously like an astronaut should. I had the Man on the Moon’s hand in mine.
With his hand firmly in mine I followed up. “Well, you haven’t answered my question?” To which he replied, “No it’s not, but the stars are filled with promise.” Everyone laughed. I had my story. Neil wasn’t a Moon Man after all. He was a genuine Star Man, full of celestial promise. He was a beacon of hope for all humanity, like an ancient wisdom reborn, challenging us as a species to take the next “giant leap” of Darwinian faith—space exploration.
Oh, yeah, my piece ended up a Feature story in the paper—39 years ago this month.