The Summer of '69

Forty years ago today I was 7 years old, living in Key West, Florida. I remember this because it was the day that Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. My mom woke me up in the middle of the night so that I could watch it on our newly purchased color TV. The video was in black and white, and it was grainy. I have seen it dozens of times since then, and it's still an amazing sight. Neil Armstrong bouncing down the stairs, taking his "giant leap" for mankind.

I remember a lot about that summer of '69 - the nightly news (with David Brinkley and Walter Cronkite) and the video of Viet Nam. The casualty tolls that would show up on the side of the TV screen showing the terrible cost of the war. The music and mud and nakedness of Woodstock. Our house in Key West, right on the canal, and Uncle Al's boat. My dad's Vespa parked in the carport. The cool tile on the floors in the house, and the muggy nights when it was hard to sleep. The huge lobster feed we had at our house! Uncle Al's red '69 GTO and how it went sooooo fast! The lady who lived across the street who made the most beautiful Barbie clothes, and hundreds of bolts of fabric she had in her garage. (Is this where my fabric envy started?)

We left Key West at the end of summer. The neighbors, all Navy folk like us, threw a big block party with watermelons.

It was the first summer I really remember.