Apollo 11 anniversary: A small step for man, and a giant leap for patriotism | Perspective

My patriotic parents, whose lives were forged by the Great Depression and World War II, always taught me to believe in the mantra “my country right or wrong.” So it was difficult for me as a student at Trinity College in 1969 to reconcile what I’d learned from my parents with my generation’s questions about why the U.S. had been plunged into a war in Vietnam.

Concerned that I might have to enlist in the military or be drafted to fight in a war I didn’t believe in, I blithely purchased a discount ticket to London in June 1969 and set out to hitchhike for three months around Europe with my girlfriend, Diane. By mid-July, we had reached Malaga, a seaside resort on the southern coast of Spain, where a room for two – breakfast included – could be booked for 70 pesetas a night, the equivalent of $1. This was the era when every American student traveling in Europe carried a tattered copy of Arthur Frommer’s book, “Europe on $5 Dollars A Day.” Always living with limited funds, we often relied on Frommer’s “starvation budget” recommendations for food and lodging.

Late on the morning of July 20, a Sunday, we left Malaga with the hope of reaching Madrid, 332 miles to the north, by that night. On the hills outside of Malaga, looking down at the Mediterranean Sea, we got our first ride — with two older men from Sao Paulo, Brazil. The driver told us that he owned a taxi company in Sao Paulo and as he negotiated the hairpin turns leading out of the city at breakneck speeds, we held onto our seats and each other. After stopping for a late lunch somewhere in southern Spain, our driver’s car broke down, and we were confronted with a choice – spend the night with our traveling companions in their car or try to hitch another ride as dusk settled in.

We decided to take our chances on the road. Because it was almost nightfall, instead of raising my arm and sticking out my thumb, I raised both arms and waved them back and forth in hopes that a motorist would stop. Within a few minutes, a Citroen station wagon screeched to a stop. All four people in the car — Pierre, Alain, Jocelyn, and Genevieve — were French, and between their few words of English and the rudimentary French that I’d retained from college, I managed to communicate our desperate plight. As we drove through the night, the six of us talked about our lives and our homes and sipped from a bottle of liquor that quickly facilitated our conversation. After a few hours in the car, our newfound friends decided to stop at a tavern for dinner.

Looking at a map of Spain today, I have no idea where we were when we stopped, but what I remember with crystal clarity is walking into the tavern, packed with late-night customers quaffing beers, sipping wine and other alcoholic beverages, all with their attention riveted to a black and white television suspended from the ceiling. There on the screen was the image of Neil Armstrong, walking on the moon that day – 50 years ago — and declaring, “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

What happened next was unforgettable: Our French companions must have alerted the crowd that two Americans – from Los Estados Unidos – were at their local bar. As the scenes from Armstrong’s moon walk flashed across the television, the cheers for the United States, for Armstrong, and for two college kids from the Philadelphia suburbs resounded through the night. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to shake our hands, buy us a drink, and toast the United States and the two of us.

As we left that night with our four French friends, I felt once again the pride in our nation that on the night of July 20, 1969 – 50 years ago – echoed around the world.

Bill Marimow and his fellow traveler, Diane Macomb, returned to Philadelphia in September 1969 and were married a month later. Bill went on to become a reporter for The Inquirer, where he twice received the Pulitzer Prize. From 2006 to 2017, he was the editor in chief of The Inquirer with a one-year hiatus for teaching at Arizona State University. He is now vice president for strategic planning at The Inquirer.