40 years later, we all see the same moon

When we look up at the moon, it has not changed a bit since a man took a small step on it 40 years ago today.

We all have our own view of the moon. I had always seen it not as a dead world of crater and rille, nor a romantic beacon illuminating the way of lovers, nor even a big ball of green cheese. No, I had always looked up at the full moon and seen Peter Lawford, the British actor with the sad, soft face and big, bushy eyebrows. Strange, but true.

Suddenly, one night in 1969, there was a new man in the moon. Two of them, actually.

Forty years ago, I held vigil -- and my breath -- with the rest of Earth as Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landed on Earth's satellite. Walter Cronkite TV explained what I was seeing on our 21-inch RCA Victor.

Into the wee hours, I sat in the bluish glow of black-and-white television, absorbed but not really appreciating what those magnificent men in their flying machines had done: finding the moon, setting down safely, lifting off again, joining the craft where Michael Collins orbited.

It was all so hit or miss -- more likely, hit or hit really hard. Mission impossible, though, somehow became mission accomplished.

For a million years, men had looked up at the moon, and now, we were looking up at other men.

The next day, the old gentleman who ran the country store near my house was not as impressed as I was about Apollo 11.

He didn't believe a word of it -- not even from Walter Cronkite! Those astronauts had gone no farther than Wyoming, he told customers. The government had faked the whole thing just to win the space race with Russia.

Some customers agreed with him. In my neck of the woods, folks put little stock in what Washington, and by extension, revenuers and NASA, had to say. They were convinced the moon was no closer on July 21, 1969, than it had been the day before.

Last week, when the space shuttle blasted off, I watched the pieces of plastic foam break away and wondered: If modern space missions are so delicate, what must it have been like for that crew 40 years ago? That was one giant leap of faith.

LOSS OF OUR UNCLE: I grew up watching Walter Cronkite deliver the news each evening. When people called him the most trusted man in America, they were not off the mark.

Decades ago, I read an essay by humorist Art Buchwald about how trusted the newsman was even back then. No matter how bad the news was, Americans could count on Walter to get them through it, he wrote.

Buchwald wrote that when a computer malfunctioned during a space shot, he watched Cronkite's report and was worried. His wife told him not to fret, however, because "Walter" would get us through it.

A few minutes later, he wrote, Cronkite reported that all was well -- and he didn't even take credit!

The word "avuncular" was often used to describe Walter Cronkite. It means "like an uncle." Uncle Walter will be missed.

Reach Glynn Moore at (706) 823-3419 or glynn.moore@augustachronicle.com.