I was almost 2, I would have been tagging along behind Brent doing all he said in this post.
Apparently, Neil Armstrong used to tell unfunny jokes about the moon and then follow them up with, “Ahh…I guess you had to be there.”
Well, I was there…at least I felt deep down in my soul I was there with Neil. It was Sunday evening, July 20, 1969 and I stepped out of the back seat of a white Buick in our driveway which was surrounded by a cluster of canopied scrub oak. Walking out into the center of our front yard to escape the trees, I peered into the gathering of the evening as it mingled with day, orange and blue and white melding into dusty shades of infinite space. And I saw Neil Armstrong in the Sea of Tranquility planting the American flag in moon cheese. At least I thought it was him. The shadows may have fooled me. I rushed inside to confirm my suspicions and…
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