30 Times Photographers Captured Moments That Have Now Become A Piece Of History

Her precise calculations helped ensure the success of the Mercury and Apollo space missions, including the historic Apollo 11 moon landing. Her life and work were immortalized in the film "Hidden Figures."

 In 1955, Gatewood became the first woman to hike the entire Appalachian Trail solo and in a single season, starting from Mount Oglethorpe in Georgia and finishing at Mount Katahdin in Maine.

A farmer’s wife from Ohio and mother of 11, Gatewood—affectionately known as “Grandma Gatewood”—embarked on her journey with little more than determination and a deep resilience forged through hardship. Having endured years of domestic abuse before finally escaping her marriage, she found solace and strength in nature. Her trek was more than just a physical challenge—it was an act of liberation.
Unlike today’s well-equipped thru-hikers, Gatewood traveled light. She wore simple Keds sneakers, carried a homemade denim sack, and relied on her foraging skills and the generosity of strangers along the way. Her feat was so extraordinary that she completed the entire trail again in 1960 and later section-hiked it in 1963.

Her remarkable journey not only brought national attention to the Appalachian Trail but also inspired countless future hikers. For those of us in New England, where the trail culminates at Maine’s rugged Mount Katahdin, her story serves as a reminder of the endurance, grit, and adventurous spirit that define both the Appalachian Trail and those who dare to walk it.

Little did they know, Mary’s story would forever be tied to the pages of literature through her younger sister, Laura. Mary was a quiet and obedient child with a sharp mind and an insatiable curiosity. She loved reading, sewing, and writing poetry, and her world was full of warmth from her family and the playful moments shared with her sisters, Laura, Carrie, and Grace.

However, everything changed in the summer of 1879 when Mary fell gravely ill at the age of 14. Intense fevers left her bedridden, and when the fever finally subsided, she discovered a new, devastating reality: she had lost her sight. Her family, although supportive, couldn’t change the fact that the disease had left her blind. Her sister, Laura, became her eyes, reading to her, describing the world around them, and helping her continue her studies. Despite this dramatic shift, Mary remained determined to overcome the challenges that came with her blindness.

In 1881, Mary enrolled in the Iowa College for the Blind, where she spent seven years studying literature, mathematics, science, and even learning practical skills like weaving and broom-making. She became a cultured, independent, and resilient woman. After graduating in 1889, Mary returned to De Smet, where she lived with her family, finding joy in music, reading, and sewing. Though she never married, Mary found fulfillment in her simple life, surrounded by her loving family. After her mother’s death in 1924, Mary continued to live with her sisters until her passing in 1928. Though her life was overshadowed by her sister Laura’s fame, Mary’s legacy lives on in the pages of *Little House on the Prairie*, where her spirit remains alongside her beloved sister.

Step into a 1950s hospital, and you might have found a room filled with iron lungs—a sobering testament to the polio epidemic. These cumbersome contraptions helped polio-stricken patients breathe, a lifeline amid a terrifying health crisis.
The iron lung was both a marvel of medical engineering and a harrowing sight. Patients, many of them children, would spend days, months, or even years encased in these metal chambers. For the families, it was a beacon of hope; for the patients, a cumbersome reality.
Thankfully, the advent of vaccines has relegated iron lungs to the annals of history.