Like silver ink spilled across the black water, the full moon shined on the reservoir. On its shoreline, A 1970 Chevrolet Impala sat by a boat ramp. And on that Impala sat a small boy and his father. The dad had his arm around the small boy. Both looked up at the moon.
“There are men up there,” the dad said. It was July 30, 1971, warm and humid. Apollo XV had just landed on the surface of the moon with astronauts Dave Scott and Jim Irwin. America had won the race to the moon. Apollo XV was taking a victory lap.
A lunar module had just touched down. And a little boy’s imagination had just lifted off. America still dared to dream back then.
Forty-one years later, another little boy sat next to his now 47-year-old dad. “Are there men up there, dad?” The boy’s question was met with silence.
The man in the moon wouldn’t be having company tonight. The man in the moon was all alone.
hmmm. Thought provoking…
Yeah and that is pretty sad. A couple of days ago I looked in a box of things that Jon saved from his growing up years in school. I pulled out a large blue silver glitter strewn piece of paper with a space shuttle glued to the top left hand corner, flying through the glittered sky to the moon and planets beyond. It was Jon’s dreams when he was a kid to become an astronaunt. As the years progressed, his dreams have changed, but he did have that dream of reaching for the sky. With the killing of the space program there is no sky to encourage kids to reach for. That’s sad.
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