THE MAN ON THE MOON, SEEN FROM TEXAS

We were in a motel room in Port Arthur, Texas, my mother’s home town, visiting her parents on our annual summer homeleave from Tokyo, where my father’s job had taken us. There was just my dad and me and a television set on which watched a man step onto the face of the Moon.

I was sixteen, my dad in his forties. Though I’d like to, I can’t say I remember Neil Armstrong’s immortal words, so often quoted: “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” I don’t. Nor do I remember feeling any overwhelming thrill of watching the impossible achieved, though…