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Description
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One morning, in an area near his home where I still occasionally hitched rides on mule-drawn wagons, I saw, through the cracks of the shack I’d stayed in, a rocket. But this old man, Cape Canaveral’s closest neighbor, didn’t notice as the rocket slowly ascended over his dilapidated shack. He had neither electricity nor a radio to inform him of this billion-dollar project. Even if he’d been told, he was too malnourished, too sick to lift his head and watch the rocket.
Titusville, FL – November 16th, 1973
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