On my fifth birthday, July 20, 1969, the Eagle landed on the moon. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked and worked on the lunar surface while Michael Collins orbited in the command module. A monumental achievement and an opportunity for the first time for humans to view the Earth while standing on another celestial body. 50 years ago today.
As a newly-minted five-year-old, the achievements of Apollo 11 were perhaps more life-changing than for the average global citizen. My memories of July 20, 1969, are molded from the filter of a child’s mind. I got my dog, Herbie, from a pet store down the street from my grandparents’ house on 18th Street in Kansas City, Kansas. That was a life-changing gift.
A boy and his dog.
A boy and the moon.
Oh, the possibilities.
I remember glimpses of family members telling me how awesome this sight we witnessed on Grandpa Hays’ black and white console television was. I remember going outside and looking up into the dark, July night at the full moon and maayybeee seeing something moving on its surface. The moon that night was actually a thin crescent and the telescopic vision needed to actually see the surface of the moon is not a physical ability inherent in a 5-year-old. But it was magic.
It was a time of possibility and hope and courage and daring. A time of hope, daring, courage, and possibility that we’ve lost across these 50 years.
Sometime after the Apollo 11 mission was successfully completed, my dad brought home a keychain in a plastic case. The keychain sat on a red felt base in the container. The silver chain had a round, quarter-sized medallion with an image of the lunar module in black on its face. It was the most wonderful thing in the world to me in late summer, 1969. Even though I’m sure Dad brought it home for everyone, back then I was 100% sure it was mine. He kept it safe in his dresser drawer next to the wooden jewelry box of rings and other important/expensive things he kept. Growing up, I would often sneak into my parent’s room to have a look at the Lunar Module keychain.
I looked at it not as a keychain but as a medal from NASA presented to a quiet, shy, husky kid from Kansas whose birthday coincided with the historic moon landing. It changed me forever
In some way, I was now special. I had the medal to prove it! More importantly, the event and the birthday and the medal and my dog revealed to me the power of science. My interest in science and nature burst to life like the explosion of a Saturn V rocket. I still feel sorry for my teachers all these years later for having to endure project after project after project about space (with a few sports pieces thrown in here and there.)
Before he died, Dad passed the Lunar Module Medal to me. He did it in classic Joe Hays form. As we were leaving after a visit to their house in KC, Dad “remembered” he had a box of things he and Mom packed when cleaning out my old room. I went to the garage where he pointed out the large, cardboard box, sealed with probably half a roll of wide masking tape and loaded it into the car. When I eventually opened up the box and removed the various school yearbooks, trophies, etc., I found the Lunar Module keychain, still in its original case, packed discretely at the bottom of the box. It now sits close to my desk as a reminder of the power of dreams. Thank you, Dad!
So here I sit, 50 years later. My fifty-fifth birthday. I’ve been a scientist for 30+ years. I’ve been a writer for a decade. I have a great wife and three awesome kids. I even have a grandson. I’ve lived a good life so far. I truly believe a lot of this goes back to July 29, 1969, when the world changed. When a snot-nosed kid became aware of the possibility of life, the potential of a human being, and the power of dreaming.
My 55th birthday wish for everyone today is our Kansas state motto:
“Ad Astra per Aspera”
To the Stars through Difficulties
