When I was in kindergarten, I told my friends I was born on the moon, because I was confused by what my mother and relatives told me.
The Apollo 11 mission had landed on the moon about three hours after I was born, and the excitement was such that my mother said she was asked by the doctors and other people if she’d name me after the mission or parts thereof.
I could’ve been Neil, Armstrong, Eagle, Columbia, Apollo or Eleven. I don’t think Sea of Tranquility was in the mix.
But I remember really believing I was born on the moon, and always dreamt that by the time I turned 30, there’d have been real bases built on the moon for people to, you know, visit and stuff. (I was a big fan of Space 1999).
But it’s been 42 years since the last man walked on the moon. Maybe it’s time we went further.