A blog by Estelle D.
I remember the day the man walked on the moon. I was in high school and it was in the middle of exams. All the exams for the afternoon were postponed and the students sent home to watch the history making event of the first man to walk on the moon. I was a country bus kid and couldn’t go home so a black and white television was set up under A block and we were to sit there and watch it until the bus came.
A few of us, myself and three others thought that was a bit boring and besides there was one of our number, a country bus kid who was in hospital recovering after having her appendix removed. We had known each other for what seemed like forever, all thorough our primary school years at a little country school where families knew each other and there was a vibrant small community spirit; you could say we considered it out civic duty to visit the sick.
So off we set, arms entwined, singing and marching along over the oval, through the back gate,along the river bank, under the bridge and onto the hospital where our friend was. We passed by the home where someone’s big sister lived and called from the gate for her to come out to say hello. We sang and laughed and continued marching.
At the hospital we sat on the patient’s bed and charmed the little old ladies in the surrounding beds. We ate Fantales and watched the man walk on the moon on a tiny portable black and white television. Then off we went, retracing our path back to the school. We arrived under A Block in plenty of time to catch our bus; I don’t think anyone even missed us.
Now, that’s what I remember about 21st of July 1969.