Saturday, June 20 heralds the 55th anniversary of Neil Armstrong becoming the first person to set foot on the moon
Black boy in Chicago playing in the street, not enough to wear, not near enough to eat. Don’t you know he saw it on a July afternoon, he saw a man named Armstrong walk upon the moon. Young girl in Calcutta barely eight years old, the flies that swarm the marketplace will see she don’t get old. Don’t you know she heard it on that July afternoon, she heard a man named Armstrong had walked upon the moon. (“Armstrong” – John Stewart – 1969)
The late John Stewart, who was a singer/songwriter friend of mine, was also a member of The Kingston Trio. He told me that he penned this song after watching the moon landing on July 20, 1969. The recording, which was released about a week later, received little airplay due to its controversial lyrics.
I thought about this song recently after witnessing a Space-X rocket streaking across the evening sky following its launch from Vandenberg Space Force Station, near Santa Barbara.
I will always remember the moment that Armstrong landed on the moon, because my mom and I watched it on TV as she lay dying at Hoag Memorial Hospital in Newport Beach. It was the last time I saw my mother alive, as she passed away from cancer a few days later.
The rivers are getting dirty, the wind is getting bad, war and hate are killing off the only earth we have. But the world all stopped to watch it on that July afternoon, to watch a man named Armstrong walk across the moon. And I wonder if a long time ago, somewhere in the universe, they watched a man named Adam walk upon the earth.
On the CBS evening newscast, I watched Walter Cronkite announce this historic event. I’ll never forget that as he was signing off the music playing in the background was a song by Jonathan King. Streets full of people, all alone, roads full of houses, never home. church full of singing out of tune, everyone’s gone to the moon. Eyes full of sorrow, never wet, hands full of money, all in debt. Sun coming out in the middle of June. everyone’s gone to the moon. (“Everyone’s Gone to the Moon” – Jonathan King – 1965)
Keep it flyin’,
Uncle Mott
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