It was a sultry summer night…Sunday, July 20, 1969. We had been watching the news over the previous week or so about the astronauts that were going to walk on the moon. I was all of sixteen…that magical age where you’re caught somewhere between Barbies and boys. We didn’t have screens on the windows but it was too hot to leave them closed. We absentmindedly swatted away the mosquitoes as we ate ice cream and stared at the flickering grey screen.

Hippies were preparing for Woodstock. Giggling teenagers were having slumber parties. We were rolling our hair on juice cans and wearing bellbottomed jeans. We popped our gum and knew all about Archie and Veronica’s exploits. Dad would complain about the “yippies” next door playing their drums too loud and the cars that went too fast up our dirt street. A couple of times a week, a Jeep would drive up the road spraying DDT into the neighborhood to keep the mosquito population down to a reasonable level. And once a month or so, a different truck would come and spray oil or tar down on the dusty dirt. The first day out after they sprayed, our bare feet would be covered with a half inch think glob of sandy tar turning our soles into…well, soles.

It was the summer of love. My foster sister was going to school all summer in Athens to get a certificate for preschool education. She wrote me long letters and on the back of each envelope she drew a picture of a bunny and wrote “God Bless Pink Summers ‘69” in an arc above its head. The war in Vietnam was cranking up, but we were young and in love with ourselves and life in general. War was something that happened so far away, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with us. But, in all actuality, we were living in difficult, tumultuous times in this country. We were just too young to really understand it all.

And now, here we were in a darkened room, sweat trickling down our backs, waiting for Neil Armstrong to take “one small step for [a] man…one giant leap for mankind.” I remember being absolutely mesmerized by this amazing feat. This was one of those landmark moments in time. A moment when there was a before and after and nothing would be the same again. It was a unifying event and we all held our collective breath in the moment. 

Here it is…fifty years later. Where did that time go? It seems I blinked and now I have great grandchildren. I’m feeling particularly nostalgic because I am here with my Colorado family. Yesterday we celebrated the 90th birthday of the matriarch of my son-in-law’s family. Grandma’s health has been failing this week but by golly, she rallied yesterday and seventeen of us gathered to shower her with our love and ate strawberry shortcake…her all time favorite. Afterwards, we left Grandma to get some rest and went out to dinner at The Old Spaghetti Factory.

It was one of those days we will remember always…when Grandma’s sun was shining and the moon echoed with the memories of another hot summers’ night, so long ago.

❤️

“it will be established forever like the moon, the faithful witness in the sky.””    Psalm 89:37 NIV