RIP, Neil Armstrong

I saw you that night. Well, at least your leg, shadowy and ill-defined, tentative, feeling your way, and I knew you had actually placed your foot on the moon a couple of times before you actually stepped down and said that phrase. I, and practically everyone else in the world, heard this: "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." And, even at fourteen years old, I knew there was something wrong with that- was it a small step, or a giant leap?

Of course, we now all know the signal was cut out and you actually said..."for a man." Which was poetry, pure poetry. And, if I had heard it correctly, I probably would have swooned. And I'm not given to swooning.

Because the world changed, Neil, right then. It felt like the culmination of history. Even my fourteen year old soul knew it, and I leaped up and ran outside and grabbed my stupid little 60x Sears telescope and swore, SWORE, I saw you and Buzz and the flag right there, on the Sea. We, mankind (a word now despised, Neil), had loosed bonds. Magics had taken over, and it was 1492 and 1621 and 1776 and 1865, all over again. There was no limit. There was no end.

Since then...well.

But it doesn't take anything away from that night. Your night. And yes, yes, thousands got you there but, Neil, you're the one. You're the one who delivered it.

So, on your way to wherever, stop by. Give the flag a shake. Send a little note back to us that, even in the grips of mediocrity, there's still loosed bonds. Still magics.

For all mankind.