The Moon Landing

Seems like this is a good time to briefly write what I remember about the moon landing.

It felt like we always followed the Apollo missions as a family; we'd watch the blast offs, we'd watch the splashdowns and recovery when they were televised. Both Mom and Dad seemed really interested in it all, and we were as interested as kids can be.

I remember all of us sitting down to watch the moon landing. If I recall correctly, it was on a Saturday morning; I remember this because it was in the middle of the Saturday morning cartoons David and I always watched. I just assumed that they would land on the moon, hop out, look around, Bugs Bunny style. I was not quite 8 years old at the time.

The landing seemed to take forever. I recall there was some fear that the moon lander would sink in dust and disappear. Once it was safely on the ground, the astronauts ran through a series of checklists before their moon walk. It took forever. I whined about missing my cartoons. Dad told me to be quiet and watch, and that someday I could say I watched man's first steps on our moon.

Was it the first trip or a later one when they playfully smuggled a golf club into their equipment bag and took a swing on the moon? The internet tells me that was Alan Shepard in 1971. I remember the astronauts as consummate professionals with an almost giddy playful delight in being where they were. I remember the collective sense of wonder, the feeling that if we could walk on the moon, we could do anything.  It was amazing.

Dad was right.

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