In honor of the 50th anniversary of the moon landing, I share my story. I was three days shy of my 23rd birthday, attending the old Merritt College on Grove Street in Oakland learning how to program a computer. Earlier that day I played tennis at the campus and as a lark I walked out on to the street and stuck my thumb out to hitchhike into Berkeley.

A tall gorgeous black chick picked me up and we spent the afternoon visiting her radical female friends around town and I got a real earful about the current state of the black male. She was studying law at Berkeley and we ended up at the apartment she shared with her infant son.

As Neil stepped off the ladder I was laying on the floor of her living room in front of a TV, with my head resting on her naked thigh. Everyone alive at the time has their story, and this is mine.

P.S. I actually remember what I was wearing that day: white tennis shorts and a white t-shirt. What was I wearing when man landed on the moon? Nothing...