Fifty years ago, Neil Armstrong became the first person to
walk on the moon. Most of us who were alive in 1969 remember the event exactly.
We remember his “giant leap for mankind,” the photos of Armstrong and Aldrin bounding
across the moon’s surface. I, too, remember it vividly, but with a bit of
embarrassment.
At that time I was in Yuba City, Cal, editing the preliminary
manuscript of a science textbook being written by some Yuba City authors. I stayed
for long periods in the Bonanza Inn motel. On the night of the moon landing, I
had a light, early dinner in the motel coffee shop before going to my room to
watch the TV coverage. Curses! The set wasn’t working, and I was unable to get
another one that night. Then I recalled the large TV in the bar. Certainly even
the local rednecks who frequented the bar would be watching the moon landing
that night.
Yes, the event was on TV. I climbed onto a bar stool and ordered
whatever alcoholic monstrosity was appropriate for that time and place
(probably Seven and Seven), then settled down to watch. The Apollo 11 had
already landed safely, and surely one of the astronauts would emerge soon.
Unfortunately, there was a very long wait, requiring my ordering more drinks. During the hours that followed, I
continued watching and drinking. Finally Armstrong stepped out onto the moon’s
surface! And I carefully slid off the bar stool. Walking back to my room, I
looked up at the moon (or were there two?) and marveled at the idea that a
human being was actually up there, and our journey to space had begun. The next
day’s hangover was worth it.
Copyright © 2019 by Carol Leth Stone
