On an average Sunday afternoon in rural Northern California in the 1950s and 60s, long before pollution, gas shortages and gasoline expense were even thought of by most of us, it was common for families to pile mom, dad and the kids into the car for a “Sunday drive.” Sometimes the object was visiting friends and family: “dropping in” and expecting to join in whatever Sunday meal was planned by the unsuspecting host families who somehow always miraculously had enough for all. On Sunday, July 20, 1969, my parents and I were in the small living room area of our single-wide mobile home, that was on blocks on an acre of land far from neighbors, watching the news coverage of the Apollo 11 moon landing. Dad was nursing his first beer of the day, mom probably had some kind of Bloody Mary (because it was Sunday) smoking Virginia Slims. I was 15, a science nerd who had already read all the Jules Verne, Orson Welles, and early science fiction that I could find. I was a Star Trek fan from the beginning so watching real-life - and LIVE! - space travel was my dream come true. My parents had to keep yelling at me to back away from the front of the television but I would soon be back to my pose of crossed legs with elbows resting on my knees and my chin on my fists, all the better for absorbing every word and image as we waited breathlessly to see the Eagle land. Into our quiet drive rambled a station wagon full of my aunt, uncle and 4 cousins, ages 15 to 4 years, who were out for a Sunday drive, all piling out of the car and into our tiny home, clambering to use the bathroom, get a drink of water, a beer. Just like that, our quiet devoted attention to mankind’s first small step on the moon was overwhelmed by the noise and confusion of getting everyone drinks – mom getting out chips and snacks for the kids, dad getting beer for my Uncle, wine for my mom and aunt, kids in and out of the single tiny bathroom. I stayed glued to the tv, determined to not let this unruly tribe keep me from missing the historic moment of man’s first landing on the moon. The bigger kids wanted to change the channel to watch something more kid-friendly but I wasn’t having it. I was astonished to find that they didn’t know or care about the moon landing! The older cousins were pestering me to explain what was going on. The two little cousins were jumping on the couch and giggling while I yelled for them to be quiet. I was so mad! I was sure my noisy and uninterested cousins were going to make me miss the momentous occasion. I was intent on watching the landing and man’s first step on the moon as I desperately tried to tune them all out. Ironically, despite my stubborn insistence on not missing that iconic moment, I have no actual memory of watching the first step — only a memory of sitting 2 feet in front of the tv while surrounded by noisy chaos.
