July 20, 1969

 It was 56 years ago today, Sunday, July 20, 1969.  I can say with assurance it was a day I will never forget as long as I live.  I remember where I was, what I was doing, almost everything that happened that day.

About one that Sunday afternoon, it might have been 1.30, my friend Jerry Alston and I were dropped off at Camp Wyldewood in Searcy, Arkansas by our mothers.  I don't remember if we left St. Louis on Friday afternoon or early Saturday morning.  It was one or the other when the four of us got in our two-tone blue 1968 Chevrolet Impala and headed south on U.S. 67.  In 1969, with most of the journey being on two-lane roads, the 320-mile journey was about an eight-hour drive.  It was a long trip, passing through towns like Flat River, Cherokee Pass, Poplar Bluff, Walnut Ridge, Oil Trough, Possum Grape and Bald Knob before you reached Searcy.

Fifty-six years later, with numerous road improvements, and 80 to 90 percent of the trip being four-lane, and redesignated as Interstate 57, you can drive the 320 miles in about five and-a-half hours, missing many of the aforementioned towns.

Wyldewood was a church camp.  Parents liked it because it was 13 days.  Nearly two weeks of quiet for the parental units.  Well, sort of, my brother Barry was still at home, still we wouldn't be fighting, so it was quieter.

After we checked in, we made our way to Cabin No. 4, which was on the east side.  Boys on the eastside, girls on the west.  Afterall, this was church camp.  There was a screen door to the cabin, which sat on a stack of rocks in each corner.  It looked safe, but what did I know, I was 12.  Inside there were six, maybe seven, bunk beds.  We were one of the first ones to check in, and both claimed lower bunks.  We met our counselor, whose name I can't remember, but I do remember he was a student at nearby Harding College, where I would attend about six years later.

After unpacking, we headed out to explore as much of the 200-plus acres as we could.  Some paths were off limits unless we had an adult with us.  That was fine with me.  

It was hot and humid that July afternoon.  No surprise, it's always hot in central Arkansas in July, plus at that age, heat never really bothered me.

But there was something else in the air, something that made this day, this July 20, 1969, a day to remember.  A number of kids, me included, were walking around, sitting on a rock or swing, anywhere in the shade to get away from the heat, listening to small transistor radios.  Mine was grey and would fit in my shirt pocket.  It ran on one D-size battery and had a single collapsible antenna that you pulled open or pushed together.  It was AM only.

All of us had found a local radio station that was broadcasting something special, two of the three Apollo 11 astronauts, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, were mere minutes from landing the Lunar Module, or LEM, as it was officially referred to, on the surface of the moon.   For the first time ever, man was landing on the lunar surface.  I am not exaggerating when I say that literally the entire world was watching and/or listening.  In fact, there were so many kids with transistors listening to the event, I'm not sure those passing by would need one.

Finally, at 3.17p CDT, Sunday, July 20, 1969, we heard these words from Apollo 11 Commander Neil Armstrong.  "Houston, Tranquility Base here.  The Eagle has landed."  All over the camp there were cheers, high fives, whoops and hollers, from 10-year-old kids to camp counselors and directors.   Never, never before in the lifetime of anyone on the planet, had something like this happened.  Ever.

The euphoria eventually died down, until a little after dark.  A little over six hours later, all the campers and counselors were gathered in the mess hall.  Most found a seat, though some stood and some sat on the floor.  We were there for one purpose.  To see men, American astronauts Armstrong and Aldrin, walk on the surface of the moon.  At the head of the room, on one of the dinner tables, the type that have legs that fold underneath them, sat a small, Philco black and white television.  To be generous, the picture was grainy.  Afterall they were broadcasting from over 300,000 miles away.  To add to the lack of clear picture, the small tv had rabbit ears, and trying to find a television channel from Little Rock or Memphis was a bit of a challenge.  It didn't matter, we were witnesses to history.

At 9.56p CDT, the fuzzy outline of a man descending what looked like stairs came into view on the set.  We all tried to get closer to see.  The last step was more of a leap, and there he was, Neil Armstong on the lunar surface.  Do you remember his first words on the surface?  "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.  Truer words were never spoken.

We were transfixed for a couple hours, watching Armstrong, later joined by Aldrin, bounce around on the lunar surface like small goats.  A little over 20 hours later, they re-entered the LEM, and blasted off to join the command vehicle, being piloted by Michael Collins, some 70 miles above the moon's surface.  Following a successful docking, the three headed back to earth, landing in the north Pacific Ocean on July 24, thus fulfilling the challenge of President John F. Kennedy in 1961 of "before this decade is out, (of) landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth."

Thus 65 years, seven months and three days after the Wright Brothers first flew at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, man landed on the moon.  In the movie Apollo 13, Tom Hanks, portraying Astronaut Jim Lovell, was standing outside looking at the moon and said to his wife, "Christopher Columbus, Charles Lindbergh and Neil Armstrong.  We now live in a world where man has walked on the moon."

It was 56 years ago today, and I remember it like it was yesterday.

Be kind to each other this week.  See you down the road.