I remember it being very late at night yet three generations of my family were still awake, glued to the television watching grainy, black-and-white, live images from the moon. The moon! Walter Cronkite and former astronaut Wally Schirra were talking but I have no recollection of what they were saying. Our family room was totally silent – highly unusual with only two family members present let alone a dozen or so – and then it happened.
From the upper left-hand corner of the TV screen, we saw what appeared to be a foot. Cronkite went quiet, like he was holding his breath, as did much of America. Then a leg, followed by the entire body of a human being. The man stood on the bottom step of a ladder for a moment, then bounced off and onto the surface.
Neil Armstrong was standing on the moon. He uttered the 10 words only he knew he was going to say and the world changed forever.
My dad exclaimed in admiration, "Son of a bitch, he did it!" and jumped to his feet, almost like he was saluting. Mother sat silently with her hands clasped in front of her mouth, shaking her head slowly in disbelief, amazement, wonder and awe all at the same time. I looked at my maternal grandmother and saw she was weeping as she said, "I was born before the Wright brothers flew. Now I'm watching a man walk on the moon!"
Cronkite was on a split screen now, wiping his eyes and shaking Schirra's hand as
if they were congratulating Armstrong and NASA on behalf of the entire country, maybe the entire globe. On the other half of the screen, Armstrong is planting an American flag and cavorting like a kid who just discovered a new playground.
Now there is a shot of Times Square with what seems like millions of people cheering wildly as they watch the electronic ticker tape run a single message over and over across the side of the old Flat Iron building: Man Walks On The Moon.
When I read on Twitter that Armstrong had died at 82, tears began streaming down my face. Partly, it was mourning the death of an individual who did something totally remarkable. Partly, it was remembering an amazing moment in my life. But, at the same time, I was mourning the loss of what America once was: A great nation that knew it could do great things if it simply put its mind to it.
And, partly, I wept because of what America has become. We have turned into a nation where "We, the people …" somehow became "Me, in my greedy self-interest." This is all the more poignant because as we note the passing of Neil Armstrong, the Republican Party – the very essence of greedy self-interest – is about to open its convention where it will nominate for president and vice president two men who could care less about helping America but a whole lot about helping those who actually don't need any help.
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