July 21, 2019 – We live in a strange time. A little back story is necessary to explain that sentence. The other day, in my guitar lesson, I said something about my musical background as a child, this to the younger, but I don’t know how much younger, teacher of mine. I said I had a picture of myself in first grade, with my dad, my dad playing guitar, me singing. I said we used to live in Calgary, and I thought of myself as a rock star. I said, as proof of my rock-star-mentality, that I would sit wearing my mom’s black nightie as my stage outfit; I guess it was summer because that’s not appropriate for winter. I said there’s a picture of that; I’ve shared it here a few times. I said my favorite show was the Johnny Cash show, that my outfit was me creating my view of myself performing on the Johnny Cash show, of what I would do as a guest. Yes, I was a weird little seven-year-old. I suppose that conversation was a mistake if I want to keep my advanced age to myself, but it’s hard to talk about my childhood without very significant time markers. And I’ll explain that. The next day I was talking to my brother about Apollo 11, about today’s times. I said to my brother, what I say often, and that is, nothing much has changed since the late ‘90s. For the past twenty years, the world around us looks and operates pretty much the same, except we have emails now instead of faxes. One could say we have the Internet, but I had the Internet in the 90s. Think about the first conversation I mentioned. A memory of me in first grade will necessarily give the time, but a memory of anyone’s times in the past twenty years just doesn’t do that. In fact, the twenty years I speak of 1999 to 2019 are a stark change as far as change is concerned compared to the twenty years between say, 1969 and 1949, or 1969 to 1989, which is why my stories are such time markers. Think of the differences in those twenty year periods, and you’ll see what I mean. And honestly, if you ask me, the moon landing is the key, the trigger even in these various times.

I found myself wondering what it would be like to not actually remember Neil Armstrong’s first step … in real time. I remember getting our first color TV. It was after the Johnny Cash show’s reign, by the way, after the moon landing, so it didn’t matter to me that the moon landing was black and white. And oh my goodness, I remember everything about Apollo. I watched shows about it, pretty much for half of yesterday. I have a really hurt back right now, so that was a good pastime for my healing-downtime. And I learned things. Sad things.

In the 50 years since Neil’s first step, much has changed. We still explore planets, but certainly not in the same way, and certainly not with such national fanfare. We still have technological increases, but if you ask me, not at anywhere near the same pace. I find myself wondering why not? I don’t know what is to blame. But what I learned yesterday, and honestly I never knew this at all, is that there were people vehemently opposed to the space program, who thought of it as a waste of money. I guess, my little girl brain knew the space program died for lack of popularity, lack of interest (never mine), and lack of funding, but I never really understood it. What was it? A been there, done that, mentality? I honestly didn’t know. But yesterday I learned. I learned from the movie First Man; I wished I had stopped watching HBO after my 2.5 episodes of the Tom Hanks’-produced documentary series From Earth to the Moon, the shows that aired before First Man. I was happy reveling in the details presented in From Earth to the Moon, happy that I honestly remembered from watching incessantly in real time back in the years 1969 to 1972 on our black and white TV when they actually happened. The movie First Man is current, and apparently current means you have to show every side. Oh and you absolutely don’t put in any shots of the American flag, which played prominently on the uniforms, the Saturn V rocket, oh and that little stick aka flagpole on the moon, and you don’t put in any shots of the words United States that showed on the rocket’s launch, taking up a huge amount of area on the rocket’s side. What you do put in as a modern film-maker are reactions of people in other countries, positive, so that was good, but, not so good — the reactions of certain underprivileged folks in New York protesting at the very time of the landing about the wasteful cost of the program, with the movie playing a poem about their struggles being ignored while whitey’s on the moon.

I found it sad that in that time of great national triumph, with three men’s lives in the balance, that there were any protests. I wouldn’t take away any rights to protest, if that’s what one wants to do, but that same moment when we don’t know if those men are going to live or die? And was the moon landing only for whitey? I really thought it was for mankind. Sure America did it, of course we did, but I honestly don’t see how it was to hurt or help any one particular race. Mind you, that is the time we live in, where white people must come to terms with our privilege, a word that’s in the media every day. And yes, I’m all for civil rights, and I hope I’m not a terrible whitey, I really do hope that, but I found myself saddened by that poem. I found myself equally saddened that many of these same people seem to think the moon landing wasn’t real, that it was faked. That’s a theory I never really knew existed. I’m not even sure why any government would fake spending $25 Billion (high $200 Billions in today’s money) on a propaganda stunt. Where did the money go, if it was fake? And the fake-believer’s support — the outstretched flag — is easily explained. There was both a vertical flag pole, and a horizontal cross-bar to stretch out the flag. Wow, people, that’s easy. Oh, and by the way, faker’s, there are reflectors on the moon that our telescopes can still see. Is that fake too? Probably.

But I will say this, the high cost and all, in this strange time where we are so complacent in our speed of technological change, owes a debt to the days of the Apollo program because we have inventions today that enrich, and even save lives, because of Apollo. We have heat protection film and fire-retardant suits for fire-fighters and fire protection; we have shock absorbers for tall buildings and bridges for safety; we have satellites that run pretty much everything; we have smaller cameras; we have medical monitoring equipment, how many lives (of all races) have those medical machines saved, to name a few important ones. Going down the list, we also have Temperpedic mattresses (might have to get one of those for my ailing back), the Dustbuster, vacuum sealed food. We have Tang for crying out loud, Tang! And more important than all of this, at least for my generation, we have hope. We have spirit. We have a generation of people who learned technology, and I mean people of all races and gender. We have women like me who honestly believed we could do anything. I still believe I can do anything. I mean, if we can go to the moon, what can’t we do?

It was real. And it was for all of us. But guess what; remember that part where I said I was wearing a nightie while pretending to be a rock star while living in the very cold city of Calgary when I was a little girl? Remember I said it was probably summer when I had that phase of wearing the rock-star nightie? Well that brought up a memory I don’t really think about too much, a time when in that little girl’s life, the time and place she lived wasn’t very hospitable to Americans. Only thing is, that day, roughly 50 years ago in 1969, that day we walked around wearing our flag. I was proud of my country. And I don’t care who you are, what you protested, or even what your conditions were. Because guess what? The basement of our house, where we kids shared our sleeping quarters, leaked and there was water on the floor every day in the winter (hence my thought that it was probably summer when I wore my rock star black nightie), and in class almost every week the teacher made me sit in the corner if I even breathed wrong, because I was an American. One whole year of that, my first grade year, no friends, no conversation, just cold weather (the coldest on record), a cold existence. But in the summer of 1969, Neil Armstrong made that little girl feel worthy, worthy because she was an American. I am grateful for this country. I am grateful that Apollo 11 happened. Happy 50^th anniversary Apollo 11, and thank you for what you did, and what you continue to do — make people really believe that anything is possible. If you believe, that is, and I do. I really do.