My siblings and I, our parents, and my maternal grandparents sat in the living room of the old row house on Perry Avenue in the Bronx, glued to the T.V.
I was eight years old.
We held our breaths and watched as Neil Armstrong stepped out.
When his foot landed, Mom and Grandma started crying. My Dad shot up and stood straight, breathing hard. We kids cheered.
But Grandpa - Mike Koretzky, who survived the Russian Revolution of 1913 as a young soldier, who emigrated through Ellis Island in 1921, who became a U.S. citizen in 1939, and was now sitting in his living room, watching his television, in a house he owned privately - stood up and shouted, "We beat them - we beat those Commie bastards!"
A few days later, even at eight, it hit me - when Grandpa was born, we didn't even have cars.
God bless America.
Where were you?
2 comments:
Almost 13. Glued to the set!! See my blogpost on same.
I remember our little house behind the Mormon Temple in Westwood. Dad taking my brother and I by the hand...4 and 5 years old...walking us outside to look at the moon. Funny thing is I carried that memory for a long time before I actually realized what day that must have been and why Dad took us outside that day.
I believe later that week I found a way to light a package of oreo cookies on fire with a toaster. I like that memory too.
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