Forty years ago today, Neil Armstrong walked into history as he stepped on the Moon. The declaration of President John F. Kennedy that a man would walk on the Moon by decade's end was no longer a wish, nor science fiction--it was now fact.
And where were you?
I sat with Mom to watch the grain,y black and white pictures across our brand spanking new color TV. I felt gypped. Mom and Dad had fished earlier. Dad was beat and didn't feel the best, so he headed to bed. At the time, we didn't realize an ulcer was begian its peskiness inside Dad. Anyway, while Mom and Dad fished, in some Iowa stream, for carp and catfish. I wanted to surprise them-like Mom surprised us with great desserts. Now MY turn!
I baked my first apple pie. Yep. We had a Johnathon apple tree in our back yard. How many times had I watched Mom peel apples and make her own crust? ZILLIONS! So how hard could it be? Forget the fact, I never peeled an apple before. I mean, Dad did it with such ease, so I could too.
Wrong.
I musta peeled about two dozen apples to get enough to make the pie-which called for about six cups. About six nice sized apples. The crust? I made it. It was more in puzzle pieces and pat in the pan, than the perfect circles my mom would make. Got it in the oven and cleaned my mess, while my pie runneth over. The top was not sealed--and well--bubbled, spilled- yet it did smell like a pie Mom would make.
As Neil Armstong walked the Moon to take a giant leap for man kind, Mom gently suggested hints for my next pie. I hung on to every word. And my Dad? He felt good enough after a short rest and cut himself a piece. And I remember to this day what Dad said: "Your pie is good, honey."
The pie might have been cardboard or not cooked through and through or accentuated Dad's ulcer. No matter--the Man on my Moon liked it!
History made every way you sliced it that 40 year ago summer night.
We are blessed.
