I was nine going on ten. Earlier in the day I'd hijacked the neighbor's Shetland pony but the pony knew I was a villain and bounced me on his bare back before I slid off, couldn't hang on though I had a handful of mane. We were out L'Anse, at Uncle Bonehead's house. He had color TV. Not that it mattered now that I think about it, moon and astronaut white, the lunar lander white, sky black, picture fuzzy. The Eagle has landed. One of them say that? Heard it some place. Didn't the Russians crash a ship, same time, on the moon? Thought I heard something like that, too. Day of. When was the last time a TV rolled? Remember that? Standing by the old Philco, reaching behind for a knob, how'm I doing? Doing anything? Almost...now it's moving side to side! Reach for the other control knob. Change the channel, chunk! chunk! chunk! And yet we were on the moon. Uncle Bonehead's TV might have had a remote, can't remember...remotes hadn't come to play such a large role in our life.