I'm watching Apollo 13 again. That movie always makes me cry. Always. It's the part when they show the whole room full of men wearing short-sleeved white shirts and ties. They all had crew cuts. They all looked like my dad, ready to go to work. That's the part that gets to me.
Yet, it isn't Apollo 13 or even Apollo 11 that's important in my memory. Oh, we all crowded around our junkyard television to watch Apollo 11. We watched Walter Cronkite talk. We waited. And waited. I heard Neil Armstrong say his famous giant leap line. I had a secret crush on Neil Armstrong even though he was almost my dad's age. My dad was so excited that he couldn't sit down on the couch. You all know that it was 1969, then, but for me, it started in 1966.
My dad was an engineer for the Navy. Sometimes, he went on secret trips. One time, he actually had a briefcase handcuffed to his arm after he stopped by at home before he left. Another time, he was going to be gone for two weeks and he had parked a gray government van in the driveway. We all stood on the front patio and looked at it, trying to see in. "What's in the back of the van, Daddy?" I asked him.
He leaned down and looked at me. "I can't tell you," he whispered with a gleam in his eyes and then he looked at my mother and grinned. The look on her face said she did not like not knowing what was going on, not at all.
"Where ya goin, Daddy?" I asked him.
"I can't tell you," he said and he smiled a little.
"Daddy, are you a spy?" I asked.
"Nope, just an engineer," he answered. I could tell that he liked this game. The next morning, he was gone. I missed him when he was gone, but he always brought home presents. Trinkets, really, but I loved them. I still have the top to the pencil that came off that was shaped like Frankenstein and the wire ring he brought home. When he got back from this trip, he had something for each of us and he also had a box of the most amazing oranges I had ever tasted. Remember, I grew up in Indiana in the sixties.
So, in 1966, we all went to Florida for our vacation after Christmas. It was the first time I had ever seen the ocean. It was cold, but my brother, dad, and I all swam anyway. It was so exciting, but I forgot to be scared. My dad had hold of my hand on one side and my brother had the other. That first wave, which was taller than I was, came right up and slapped me out of their hands. I swirled around and around in the salt and sandy water. Before I could be pulled out into the undertow, my dad picked me up. I was sputtering.
"Let's do it again!" I said when I could finally talk. So we got slammed over and over until we figured out how to dive under the water just before the wave slapped us. I was freezing, but I didn't want to stop.
On that trip, I heard alligators roar in the Everglades, fed seagulls out the window of a restaurant, ate more oranges than I could hold, and walked in what I remember as the biggest building in the world. We went to the Kennedy Space Center, as it was called then, and got a special tour. I remember the guy telling us that the only reason we got the inside tour was that my dad was special and knew everyone there. He made me feel so proud of my dad. I tried really hard to listen to every word he said, but the only thing I remember from that tour was that the building was so big that it rained inside it every day. They were building another rocket in there, but I don't remember which one. I was six after all.
My dad went on lots of other secret trips, but he always brought back oranges, so that I knew where he'd been. One time, he didn't bring back oranges, but instead brought wine from Knott's Berry Farm. We all had a little sip of that stuff. Oh, it was awful. I never wanted to taste wine again. We guessed where he'd been by the things he brought back. He never told us if we were right or wrong. And I knew, even then, not to say where I thought he had been around anyone but my family.
So when the Apollo missions began, my dad was glued to the television for each one. I didn't really like watching the news, but it was on all the stations and we were excited just because my dad was. It was sometime in November of 1969. We were downstairs watching the Apollo 12 mission on our black and white TV. At some point, Walter Cronkite said something. I didn't even hear what it was that he'd said but my dad jumped up in the air and said, "It worked! It worked!" and sat back down really quickly and put his hands in his lap.
"What worked, Daddy?" I asked him. He sat on that green couch as still as a panther about to strike.
"I can't tell you," he said quietly and he grinned.
Thanks for listening, jb
Yet, it isn't Apollo 13 or even Apollo 11 that's important in my memory. Oh, we all crowded around our junkyard television to watch Apollo 11. We watched Walter Cronkite talk. We waited. And waited. I heard Neil Armstrong say his famous giant leap line. I had a secret crush on Neil Armstrong even though he was almost my dad's age. My dad was so excited that he couldn't sit down on the couch. You all know that it was 1969, then, but for me, it started in 1966.
My dad was an engineer for the Navy. Sometimes, he went on secret trips. One time, he actually had a briefcase handcuffed to his arm after he stopped by at home before he left. Another time, he was going to be gone for two weeks and he had parked a gray government van in the driveway. We all stood on the front patio and looked at it, trying to see in. "What's in the back of the van, Daddy?" I asked him.
He leaned down and looked at me. "I can't tell you," he whispered with a gleam in his eyes and then he looked at my mother and grinned. The look on her face said she did not like not knowing what was going on, not at all.
"Where ya goin, Daddy?" I asked him.
"I can't tell you," he said and he smiled a little.
"Daddy, are you a spy?" I asked.
"Nope, just an engineer," he answered. I could tell that he liked this game. The next morning, he was gone. I missed him when he was gone, but he always brought home presents. Trinkets, really, but I loved them. I still have the top to the pencil that came off that was shaped like Frankenstein and the wire ring he brought home. When he got back from this trip, he had something for each of us and he also had a box of the most amazing oranges I had ever tasted. Remember, I grew up in Indiana in the sixties.
So, in 1966, we all went to Florida for our vacation after Christmas. It was the first time I had ever seen the ocean. It was cold, but my brother, dad, and I all swam anyway. It was so exciting, but I forgot to be scared. My dad had hold of my hand on one side and my brother had the other. That first wave, which was taller than I was, came right up and slapped me out of their hands. I swirled around and around in the salt and sandy water. Before I could be pulled out into the undertow, my dad picked me up. I was sputtering.
"Let's do it again!" I said when I could finally talk. So we got slammed over and over until we figured out how to dive under the water just before the wave slapped us. I was freezing, but I didn't want to stop.
On that trip, I heard alligators roar in the Everglades, fed seagulls out the window of a restaurant, ate more oranges than I could hold, and walked in what I remember as the biggest building in the world. We went to the Kennedy Space Center, as it was called then, and got a special tour. I remember the guy telling us that the only reason we got the inside tour was that my dad was special and knew everyone there. He made me feel so proud of my dad. I tried really hard to listen to every word he said, but the only thing I remember from that tour was that the building was so big that it rained inside it every day. They were building another rocket in there, but I don't remember which one. I was six after all.
My dad went on lots of other secret trips, but he always brought back oranges, so that I knew where he'd been. One time, he didn't bring back oranges, but instead brought wine from Knott's Berry Farm. We all had a little sip of that stuff. Oh, it was awful. I never wanted to taste wine again. We guessed where he'd been by the things he brought back. He never told us if we were right or wrong. And I knew, even then, not to say where I thought he had been around anyone but my family.
So when the Apollo missions began, my dad was glued to the television for each one. I didn't really like watching the news, but it was on all the stations and we were excited just because my dad was. It was sometime in November of 1969. We were downstairs watching the Apollo 12 mission on our black and white TV. At some point, Walter Cronkite said something. I didn't even hear what it was that he'd said but my dad jumped up in the air and said, "It worked! It worked!" and sat back down really quickly and put his hands in his lap.
"What worked, Daddy?" I asked him. He sat on that green couch as still as a panther about to strike.
"I can't tell you," he said quietly and he grinned.
Thanks for listening, jb
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