Neil Armstrong died this week. The rarest club in the world--people who have stepped on the moon--lost its' founding member. Neil Armstrong was the
first man on the moon: July 20, 1969.

The local community treats him like a hometown boy; he attended, and graduated from Purdue. He has a building named after him on campus; inside is a moon rock, and a replica of his spacecraft. Outside are "moon prints" and a statue of Armstrong as a student (this is where students left memorials for him during the week--eye witnesses say these tributes were from numerous faith traditions). I think it's lovely that people took the time to leave these tributes, but I can't help but think that Armstrong would have been taken aback by the visible display of the impact he still has on students today. Students whose
parents may not have been born when he walked on the moon! I know people who have met Neil Armstrong, and they all say he was a quiet man who valued his privacy. He was very aware of what he accomplished, and he took steps while alive to ensure his legacy would not be exploited. We did not see his photo on cereal boxes, we did not play with Neil Armstrong action figures. We
did read about him in history books, and to my knowledge, the story has not been embellished. It didn't need to be.
Those of us who were alive in July 1969, no matter where on Earth we lived--we remember. Mostly.
I have trouble remembering the night when such history was made. I was 9 years old, and the images from that evening's television-watching should be seared into my brain. But I was nowhere near a television; my mom, my sister, my niece, and some friends were vacationing in a cabin in a remote area of Missouri. We were near a lake, but were so far from everything else that even radio reception was hit-or-miss. My sister tells me that the older women were convinced the world would end the minute his foot hit the moon, so my guess is the air in the cabin was thick with tension--much like it was in many homes across the world. I do remember my mom and her friend nervously fiddling with the dials on the radio, trying to find a clear station for "the moment". I guessed we breathed a sigh of relief when the moment passed, and Neil Armstrong survived, along with our planet. The next day, I went swimming, maybe boating, and we all turned our attention to my niece, who was running a pretty high fever for a 2-year-old. She got better, our vacation ended, I turned 10, and then school started.
I know we talked about the amazing thing Neil Armstrong did; my dad gave me copies of the photos taken on the moon, and for a long time, I saved a commemorative magazine. I was particularly intrigued by the disk that was left on the moon--according to the Internets, "
They also left behind a silicon message disk. The disk carries the goodwill statements by Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon and messages from leaders of 73 countries around the world. The disc also carries a listing of the leadership of the US Congress, a listing of members of the four committees of the House and Senate responsible for the NASA legislation, and the names of NASA's past and present top management." But I don't think I truly appreciated the complexity of the moon mission until much later; I don't think my young mind could grasp even the math that it took to get them there.
Time passed, we started to drink Tang, and watched with awe as other Apollo flights went to the moon and back. Astronauts became more comfortable being on the Moon--one even took a golf club with him, and launched a ball into orbit. And I wondered, without ever saying it, if the "moon people" were just very clever at hiding.