By Eleanor Kazdan, July 18, 2019 — It’s almost impossible to believe that it has been 50 years since Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. I remember the day well. I was 19 and about halfway through a 3-month trip to Europe with my girlfriend Kathy. It was our first time so far from home. Everything felt strange and other-wordly. To tell you the truth, space travel and a man on the moon was the farthest thing from my mind.
Kathy and I had split up for a few weeks. We were both supposed to spend time at a work camp in a small French town where we would do manual labor in exchange for room and board along with a bunch of other young people from all over the world. Kathy changed her mind at the last minute and went to visit relatives. I ended up at the work camp alone in the town of Brouage and was having the time of my life.
There were about 20 of us. We slept in cots in a schoolhouse. At 6:00 in the morning, we were awakened, had breakfast, and then spent 6 hours cleaning ivy from a historic wall surrounding this historic town where Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette had lived. After worked, we partied. One day we took an expedition to the neighboring beach town of Marennes. After a day at the shore, we congregated at a local pub along with French fishermen and other locals. There was a tiny black TV. I wondered why everyone was crowded around it. As I peered at the TV, I saw a grainy image. History was being made in front of our eyes. The first man on the moon.