Coincidences: Birth, War and the Moon Landing

I was looking through my photos for one specific picture, taken on July 16, 1969, during the moon landing.

I was sitting in a rocking chair in my neighbor Ah How Ching's apartment, and I was nursing my firstborn, who was just 2 months old. I remember the dress I was wearing, a pale orange dropped waist cotton knit with small flowers sprinkled over it. I remember the small TV set that my friend and I watched the landing, and I remember her delight at watching me nurse my baby.

I never found that photo. I know it is here but where remains a mystery. Perhaps this winter I will finally get to the long-put-off job of sorting and organizing our boxes of pictures. Maybe.

What I did find was this blurry, worn Polaroid photo of my husband, also taken in 1969, and with it a letter he'd written home to his mother. The photo shows a young man--a boy really--trying to look like a tough soldier. He's filled out from the good grub the military fed its recruits, better chow than he'd ever had growing up in the coal camp. The thing the picture doesn't show is how scared he is, because he knows that very soon he will be shipping out to Vietnam.

The letter speaks longingly of home, wishing he was there and going hunting with his dad. He talked about calling soon and hoping his mother will be home when he calls, and that he wanted to talk to his father too, although he says, "I know he don't like to talk on the phone much." He also mentioned getting to come home soon for a visit. The visit never happened, as just three weeks after writing the leter he was on his way overseas.

Larry was a long way from West Virginia and the Olcott coal camp in 1969, and I was a long way from knowing he even existed. I was a happy new wife with a little baby, living in northern Virginia, with no idea that my first marriage would end or that I would ever live in West Virginia or meet my second husband there.

So while I was nursing my baby, watching the moon landing and comfortable that my husband was safely in the Air Force Reserve, Larry was somewhere in the jungles of Vietnam and wondering if he'd ever get out of there alive, and why he volunteered for the Marines in the first place.

One thing struck me when I read the letter: it was dated April 18, 1969. On that same day I was in the hospital, giving birth to my first child, who was born about 5 weeks early, and whose due date was actually May 25th--Larry's birthday. April 18th was also my English granny's birthday.

Today it is 50 years since the moon landing. My son is a strong 50-year-old man, and Larry and I have been married for 33 years. Such an odd weaving of destinies life can be.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.