I remember 40 years ago today. Not necessarily because I cared that the USA had put men on the moon, but because I documented it in my diary. I’d been given a leather diary with a lock and key for Christmas the year before and sporadically wrote bits and pieces of my life in it. I know that diary is somewhere in this house, but it is not with my journals, so I cannot write exactly what I wrote 40 years ago, but I remember writing it and thinking that someday I’d look back on what I wrote and be interested.
The mere fact that I wrote it for the future kind of ruined it. Man walking on the Moon was either too much for my small brain to handle, or too little for my nearly 13 year old brain to bother with.
Damn. Having my actual words would make this a far better post.
Never mind. Maybe I’ll find the diary in time for the 50th anniversary.
Update: Found the diary.