Lucas Aldrich was already sipping his margarita at the Mexican restaurant when his daughter arrived.
“Hey Dad! Sorry I’m late. Clients sometimes forget that one needs to have lunch.”
“Don’t worry about it Moonbeam.”
Moonbeam was Lucas’ nickname for his daughter Vega. The moniker’s inspiration was a TV interview he had seen of Astronaut Gene Cernan’s daughter in the early 70’s in which she claimed her father had promised to bring her a moonbeam from his trip to the Moon. One day, many years ago, while playing with her daughter, Lucas tied a beach towel around his neck and called himself Rocket Man. Little Vega wanted to be a superhero too, and he suggested the name so they could become the space adventurers Rocket Man and Moonbeam. She loved it and the nicknames evolved into terms of endearment between them. The fact that Vega developed a keen interest in her father’s two favorite hobbies – baseball and the 1960’s space race, helped perpetuate their special sobriquets.
But that was a long time ago and now she was a very busy professional woman so a while ago they had started a tradition of having lunch together, just the two of them every Wednesday rain or shine. Nice father/daughter quality time. This time it was at their favorite Mexican restaurant.
“Hey Rocket Man, easy on the tequila, you’re not so young anymore.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” he said.
“I didn’t say old, I said not so young.”
“Leave it to lawyers to nitpick about the language.”
“Hey you’re in communications. You’re the one who taught me to be meticulous about the words I choose to express an idea.”
A waiter briefly interrupted the conversation to ask Vega what she wanted to drink. She ordered a frozen margarita and asked for a minute to decide on an appetizer. They went with their usual chihuahuas with jalapeños.
“So, how’s everything? How did it go with Dalia’s aunt?” Vega asked her father.
A couple of weeks ago Vega had introduced Lucas to her colleague Dalia’s aunt, a pretty attractive divorcée that she thought would be a good match for her widowed father. They seemed to hit it off, and during their last lunch together Lucas mentioned they were going out on a date that following Friday.
“It was OK,” said Lucas matter-of-factly, “she’s a very smart woman…”
“Buuuuut…” said Vega waiting for the perennial ‘but’ that her father had her accustomed to.
“I don’t know, it’s hard to describe. I just couldn’t find a meaningful connection.”
“Dad, Mom died ten years ago. I know her absence still hurts but It’s time to move on. No one will be like her, but you must give yourself a chance to experience a meaningful relationship with someone different.”
“I guess I’m just not ready yet Moonbeam. Not ready,” said Lucas looking at his margarita.
“Sorry Dad, I didn’t mean… I just want you to be happy.”
Vega’s frozen margarita arrived with the spicy chihuahuas and before they both dug in they ordered lunch. Again, no surprises there, a Swiss burrito for Lucas and chicken fajitas for Vega.
“Did you watch the game last night?” she asked changing the topic.
“You bet I did, the Indians came from behind in the ninth inning. Sorry about your Yankees,” said Lucas.
“This is the year… right,” said Vega smiling.
Lucas was a Cleveland Indians fan, a major league franchise that hadn’t won a championship since 1948. But being a fan of such a hard luck team wasn’t always the case for him. In the 70’s Lucas was a hardcore fan of the Cincinnati Reds – the fabled Big Red Machine. And in his hometown he cheered for a local team called the Lions. Both enjoyed several championship runs when he was a kid. Then in the 1990’s he saw a movie called Major League and he became infatuated with the then hapless Indians.
“This is the year,” said Lucas smiling and winking at his daughter.
“Are you playing fantasy baseball this year?” asked Vega.
“Oh yeah, the Red Lions are at it again and we are off to a good start. We play the Kitty Hawks tonight.”
“Kitty Hawks as in the Wright Brothers’ Kitty Hawk?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh nothing, just found it curious. The manager must be either an aviation enthusiast or a space race buff like you.”
Vega, like her father, knew that Neil Armstrong, the man famous for being the first man to step on the Moon, had carried during his Apollo 11 mission, a piece of fabric and a piece of wood from the flyer the Wright brothers had successfully tested at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina in 1903.
“Yeah, he must be…” said Lucas suddenly deep in thought.
Please help keep the stories flowing…
Apollo 1’s patch irony was not lost on her. She couldn’t help thinking about the astronauts’ family members while staring at the patch showing a command module orbiting Earth. 
“The mission commander for Apollo 7 was Walter Schirra, one of the Mercury seven original astronauts,” her father would say. “After the Apollo 1 tragedy, NASA needed all the positive vibes available in the universe. So they went with lucky number seven. Remember that all the Mercury missions used that same number and they were all successful. Of course NASA would never accept they were as superstitious as the next guy so they came up with this cockamamie story about obscure unmanned missions that only they knew about, or understood for that matter.”
Apollo 8’s had always been her favorite – a very sleek design that featured a red “8” denoting both the mission number, and the circumlunar trajectory of the mission. The design was first conceived by mission astronaut Jim Lovell who then prepared a sketch and gave it to the NASA artist in charge of the project.
Apollo 9’s mission patch was probably the least appealing of them all. Her father used to compare it to an elementary school textbook diagram. She moved over quickly to the Apollo 10 patch – another one of her favorites. 
A pretty busy design, unlike Apollo 8’s sleek one, but somehow it worked in a very pleasant manner. Mission astronauts Young and Cernan designed it and its shield-like outer shape gave it a space ranger flair.
The first time he said that my eyes opened up like Frisbees, thought Vega.
