This is a confusing time for me. I’ve been watching documentaries all week about the space race and missions, and especially the moon landing of 50 years ago. What an exciting, inspiring era I grew up in! But today, July 15, marks an unhappy family anniversary. It was on this day 20 years ago that my mother passed away. We all know how much our mothers did, do, and would continue to do, for their families, and those of us who grew up with military fathers know the sacrifices that our mothers made everyday. This post is not about what our mothers contributed to our lives. We all know. It is simply one of my own little, insufficient tributes to my own mother, gone now but never forgotten. RIP Myrtle, 1939- July 15 1999.
What follows is a little family scene from a happier time, (fittingly about the moon landing, 50 years ago this week) from my book Camp Follower One Army Brat’s Story by Michele Sabad. The book is dedicated to my mother.
“The moon landing happened when we were in Goose Bay. July 20, 1969. Of course we didn’t watch it live on TV, but I remember it vividly. On such a pure-black cloudless night in Labrador, the moon was brilliant. Although only in waxing crescent phase that night, we could still see the outline of the whole moon against its fluorescent quarter. As my mother gathered us in the backyard to look, my brothers and I imagined the men walking on it at that exact moment. We jumped up and down exclaiming we could see them. Over the many times later in life when watching the grainy black-and-white film footage of that historic moment, I would always think of us, my mother and brothers and me, in our dark sandy backyard, lights out, looking up to the heavens to watch the moon landing, live.”