Moon Landing

Today marks the 44th anniversary of man walking on the moon.

 

It is a historic date and a landmark event that people today still use as a standard or a call for national action on an issue as in "if we put a man on the moon then why we can't we......."

 

I think most people remember where they were when the moon walk happened.

 

With all the lights off in the living room of my parents beach cottage, my siblings, our parents and I watched the incredible, once-in-a-lifetime event live on television with the rest of the world.  We knew it was something very important because we were allowed to stay up and watch it and no one was allowed to talk. 

 

The televised black and white picture of astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin slowly descending the ladder from their NASA module to the surface of the moon was so grainy you couldn't always tell what was happening but you didn't dare move your eyes away from the screen because you didn't know what was going to happen next.

 

Many decades later, the moon event has additional significance for me because my late husband, Thomas O'Toole, was a reporter for The Washington Post at that time and he wrote one of the insightful front page stories describing the exciting yet tense moon event.

 

Photo Courtesy of NASA

While it has been nine years since his death, the anniversary of this moon event brings him back to me ever so clearly.  I think this is because he was a very talented workaholic who devoted almost every waking moment to learning and knowing everything he could about NASA and its space program.  He was fascinated by science and all that was associated with space and the race to put a man on the moon.

 

I asked him many times to describe for me what that day was like and what it was like to write the story as it was happening.  I loved to listen to him tell and retell the details of the newsroom atmosphere and what was going on in terms of getting the newspaper printed.  It was a tremendous amount of pressure and truly an example of deadline writing and reporting.

 

I write about him today because I -- and I'm sure others -- invest a variety emotions into special days whether those days are birthdays or anniversaries of weddings, deaths, or other special events.  Acknowledging my feelings about these special days is just one step of many that I have been taking to rebuild my life, our son's life and to discover new resources strengthening my resilience.

 

Writing about my feelings helps me sort through and process whatever it is that is going on in my brain and in my heart.  I also write about my feelings as a way of reaching out to others and letting them know they are not alone in the complicated and unexpected things they feel on their grief journeys.

 

There are many ways to express your feelings and in time you will find the right one for you.  Some people need to talk their feelings out while others prefer quiet projects like painting or photography.

 

I appreciate and adore all of my wonderful readers and today thank you very much for allowing me to share the feelings about my husband that caught me off guard and took my breath away on this special anniversary.

 

I tried to find my husband's story from July of 1969 but when I Googled for it, this is all I could find:

 

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/national/2000/popup0721.htm

 

College Rejections Are Not The End Of The World

It's that time of year.

 

You know.  College admissions and rejections.

 

You are either laughing with joy from the news of your acceptance or crying because you got rejected.

 

If you didn't get into the college you wanted, it feels as if it's the end of the world, doesn't it?  But guess what?

 

It's not.

 

You don't know where life is going to take you; who you're going to meet and where you're going to go.  Life is full of the unexpected and the unplanned.

 

I am in a place I never thought I would be but it's still good!  I think I could ask my friends the same questions about college, careers and life and they would agree that life does not always unfold the way we think it will but it ends up working out.

 

In one of my former lives many, many years ago, I was a reporter in Washington, DC who wrote for The Boston Globe.  I covered the Massachusetts delegation on Capitol Hill.  I worked very hard, learned a lot about how things really work and also had a ton of fun.

 

Part of that fun was getting to know a group of stellar reporters and writers who were considered to be in a category all by themselves.  Their work was untouchable.  They were not only great reporters and writers but they were great people outside of work.  David Nyhan was one of those guys.

Below is a classic story that Nyhan wrote in 1987 about keeping life and the whole college admissions thing in perspective.  And The Boston Globe continues to reprint it all the time because no one can say it any better.

Please read it and you will discover the special way that Nyhan had with words and more importantly, that his words still ring true today.

David Nyhan

Did You Get A College Rejection Letter?  Here's Some Sage Advice?

By David Nyhan, Globe Staff

Former Globe columnist the late David Nyhan wrote the following column in 1987. Since then, it has been reprinted in the newspaper and online many times around this time of year. Nyhan died in January 2005.

THE REJECTIONS arrive this time of year in thin, cheap envelopes, some with a crummy window for name and address, as if it were a bill, and none with the thick packet you'd hoped for.

''Dear So-and-so:

''The admissions committee gave full consideration . . . but I regret to inform you we will be unable to offer you a place in the Class of 2012." Lots of applicants, limited number of spaces, blah blah blah, good luck with your undergraduate career. Very truly yours, Assistant Dean Blowhard, rejection writer, Old Overshoe U.

This is the season of college acceptance letters. So it's also the time of rejection. You're in or you're out. Today is the day you learn how life is not like high school. To the Ins, who got where they wanted to go: Congrats, great, good luck, have a nice life, see you later. The rest of this is for the Outs.

You sort of felt it was coming. Your SAT scores weren't the greatest. Your transcript had some holes in it. You wondered what your teachers' recommendations would really say, or imply. And you can't help thinking about that essay you finished at 2 o'clock in the morning of the day you absolutely had to mail in your application, that essay which was, well, a little weird.

Maybe you could have pulled that C in sociology up to a B-minus. Maybe you shouldn't have quit soccer to get a job to pay for your gas. Maybe it was that down period during sophomore year when you had mono and didn't talk to your teachers for three months while you vegged out. What difference does it make what it was? It still hurts.

It hurts where you feel pain most: inside. It's not like the usual heartache that kids have, the kind other people can't see. An alcoholic parent, a secret shame, a gaping wound in the family fabric, these are things one can carry to school and mask with a grin, a wisecrack, a scowl, a just-don't-mess-with-me-today attitude.

But everybody knows where you got in and where you didn't. Sure, the letter comes to the house. But eventually you've still got to face your friends. ''Any mail for me?" is like asking for a knuckle sandwich. Thanks a lot for the kick in the teeth. What a bummer.

How do you tell kids at school? That's the hard part. The squeals in the corridor from the kids who got in someplace desirable. The supercilious puss on the ones who got early acceptance or the girl whose old man has an in at Old Ivy.

There's the class doofus who suddenly becomes the first nerd accepted at Princeton, the 125-pound wrestling jock who, surprise, surprise, got into MIT. But what about you?

You've heard about special treatment for this category or that category, alumni kids on a legacy ticket or affirmative action luckouts or rebounders or oboe players. Maybe they were trying to fill certain slots. But you're not a slot. You're you. They can look at your grades and weigh your scores and see how many years you were in French Club. But they can't look into your head, or into your heart. They can't check out the guts department.

This is the important thing: They didn't reject you. They rejected your resume. They gave some other kid the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that kid deserved a break. Don't you deserve a break? Sure. You'll get one. Maybe this is the reality check you needed. Maybe the school that does take you will be good. Maybe this is the day you start to grow up.

Look at some people who've accomplished a lot and see where they started. Ronald Reagan? Eureka College. Jesse Jackson? They wouldn't let him play quarterback in the Big Ten, so he quit Illinois for North Carolina A & T. Do you know that the recently retired chairmen and CEOs of both General Motors and General Electric graduated from UMass? Bob Dole? He went to Washburn Municipal University.

The former minority leader of the United States Senate, Tom Daschle, went to South Dakota State. The former speaker of the US House of Representatives, J. Dennis Hastert, went to Northern Illinois University. Dick Armey, the former House majority leader, took a bachelor's degree from Jamestown College. Winston Churchill? He was so slow a learner that they used to write to his mother to come take this boy off our hands.

I know what you think: Spare me the sympathy. It still hurts. But let's keep this in perspective. What did Magic Johnson say to the little boy who also tested HIV positive? ''You've got to have a positive attitude." What happens when you don't keep a positive attitude? Don't ask.

This college thing? What happened is that you rubbed up against the reality of big-time, maybe big-name, institutions. Some they pick, some they don't. You lost. It'll happen again, but let's hope it won't have the awful kick. You'll get tossed by a girlfriend or boyfriend. You won't get the job or the promotion you think you deserve. Some disease may pluck you from life's fast lane and pin you to a bed, a wheelchair, a coffin. That happens.

Bad habits you can change; bad luck is nothing you can do anything about.

Does it mean you're not a good person? People like you, if not your resume. There's no one else that can be you. Plenty of people think you're special now, or will think that, once they get to know you. Because you are.

And the admissions department that said no? Screw them. You've got a life to lead.