Weekly Update 07/11/26 – 07/17/26 (Apollo 11 Memories, Technical Leadership, Office Remodel)

This week's update continues my ongoing Weekly Update series. It includes an unexpected encounter with a summer thunderstorm, memories of Apollo 11, progress at work, developments in my office remodel, and some difficult news involving one of Dawn's puppies.

Thursday morning started like most mornings. I got up, took my meds, and went for a walk. I did not get very far when I heard something strange. At first I thought it was the sound of a jet airplane taking off. I live only 4.5 miles from the runway at PDX, so we sometimes hear the planes, although not very often because they normally take off and land on a path parallel to my house and do not fly over it. But I noticed that the sound level was increasing and decreasing, so it was not a plane. The next possibility, of course, was thunder.

I was not overly concerned. I did notice that there were occasional raindrops falling on me, so I kept going a little farther until there was a brilliant flash of lightning. At that point, I performed a perfect about-face and returned home as quickly as I could.

This week marked the 57th anniversary of the launch of Apollo 11 and, a few days later, Neil Armstrong taking humanity's first steps on the Moon. For some reason, when I think about Apollo 11, I always remember July 16, the day they launched, rather than July 20, the day Eagle landed and mankind first stepped onto another world.

I have thought about how people describe that achievement, often referring to it as humanity's first step or the first time we left home. But when you consider just how vast the universe really is, as if a human mind can truly grasp that scale, I do not think either description is quite right.

To me, Apollo 11 was more like a baby turning over for the first time in its cradle, or perhaps lifting its head for the first time while lying down. Every parent knows how important those milestones are. But they are still a long way from a child's first steps, and even farther from the day that child eventually leaves home.

I have many memories from that mission. I was only seven years old, but I was fascinated by the space program. I had an astronaut G.I. Joe, pictures of the vehicles, and that was also the year I received my first telescope.

My father was hired to make a kinescope of the landing. A kinescope is a technique in which a film camera is used to create a motion picture recording of a television broadcast. This was in the early days before videotape became common. The idea was to film the broadcast live, rush the film to the lab, and have copies available for sale in stores the next morning.

I think the process itself worked, but I have no idea whether any copies were ever sold. Most people did not own 16 mm projectors to watch the film, and I also have serious questions about whether selling copies of a copyrighted television news broadcast would have been legal.

Even though I was only seven years old, I worked with my father as his "technical advisor," a title he continued to use for me for years whenever he told people about the landing. My job was to keep him updated on the mission timeline because I was completely absorbed by the space program. I was even allowed to go with him to the location where the film would be made, while my mother and my sibling stayed at home.

The television we had at home was considered a big-screen television at the time, but it sat directly on the floor, making it impractical to film from a tripod. Instead, we went to Richard Dayton's house. Richard was my father's business partner, and his television was mounted on a stand, allowing the camera to be positioned correctly.

I have two especially clear memories from that night. The first was my father getting injured while setting up the camera. The film magazine fell off and struck him in the head because, in the excitement, he had forgotten to lock it into place. The second was watching the Moon landing in almost complete silence. The television's sound was not being played through the speaker because it had to be recorded directly onto the film. I did not actually hear Armstrong's "That's one small step for man..." until later.

I also have a strange memory from almost seven hours earlier, when Eagle landed at Tranquility Base. I was riding with my parents through downtown Los Angeles on the freeway near the intersection of Interstate 5 and U.S. 101. It was a cloudy day, and we were listening to the live radio coverage as we drove.

The other memory from that day seems disconnected, and I am not entirely certain it happened at exactly the same time. But in my mind the two events have always been linked.

We were talking about people and how it did not matter what someone looked like. What mattered was what was inside them. That was when I realized that, because I was "mentally retarded," as the doctors had told my parents, that must mean what was inside me was no good.

It was a hard lesson for a seven-year-old, and an even harder lesson for an adolescent or adult to unlearn.

This week has put that memory into stark relief as I continue my work as a Senior Software Engineer.

I attended several meetings this week and found myself leading much of the discussion. They were not my meetings, but they were about the project I am working on, and I have become its unofficial technical lead.

That is due in large part to Astra (ChatGPT). I came to each meeting with an agenda and a list of questions that needed to be answered. During the meetings, I guided the discussion around those questions while also serving as a source of information for the rest of the team, answering questions about both the product we are developing and how the current system works.

I left each of those meetings with a genuine sense of pride in how I handled myself. I did not try to take control. Instead, I was able to provide technical leadership while still allowing the person running the meeting to remain in charge. I hope I found the right balance.

I made some real progress on my office remodel this week.

I have been testing paint-stripping compounds to see how well they work, and I have been pleasantly surprised by the results. Unfortunately, that optimism disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived when I discovered the cost.

It turns out that stripping a single door would require nearly two gallons of stripper, costing more than $200. Since I wanted to strip all three doors in the room, along with all of the wood trim, I realized it would actually be less expensive to replace the doors and trim than to restore them.

I also discovered another problem. When used on trim, the stripper softened the wood enough that it became very easy to damage while removing the old finish.

Because of that, I have decided to use the stripper only where preserving the original wood really matters. I plan to strip the window sill and the door jambs while replacing the remaining trim with new stain-grade wood.

Looking more closely at the room also gave me another idea. Since the ceiling is fairly low, I have been considering adding crown molding to create the impression of greater height. I have even been researching crown molding with integrated LED lighting, which could add both character and indirect lighting to the room.

I also started making purchases for the remodel. My wing chair is now set up in the room, and I have both a side table and a new work table on order.

Since I am going to need a professional to install the new flooring, I reached out to my old friend David Austin. We have not been in contact for several years, but he is the person who installed all of the flooring in my house.

I sent him a text message, and he quickly called me. Although he has retired, he is still willing to give me an estimate and, if acceptable, come out of retirement to do this work.

During our conversation, I learned that since we last spoke, he and his wife had sold their triple-wide manufactured home, which looked just like a conventional house inside and out, bought a motorhome, and set out to travel around the country.

When he called me, they were in New York, but they expect to return to the Pacific Northwest around the end of August. I look forward to seeing him again.

There is some really bad news this week.

Dawn is a small home breeder who raises Dachshund puppies. Her most recent litter had only two puppies. One was named Cloud because she was white. The other was named Storm because, while her sister was white, she was a beautiful light red color.

Cloud has already found her forever home, but when Dawn took Storm to the veterinarian, they discovered a heart murmur. She was then referred to a veterinary cardiologist in Corvallis, Oregon, where we received even more difficult news.

Storm has a congenital heart defect that can be corrected with surgery, but the procedure will cost at least $10,000, an amount that is simply beyond Dawn's ability to pay.

As a result, Dawn is setting up a GoFundMe campaign. Once it is available, I will post another blog entry with the information for anyone who would like to help.

Storm is a wonderful little puppy. She is playful, full of energy, and loves bouncing around while exploring everything she can find.

Storm's heart defect is called Patent Ductus Arteriosus (PDA). Before a puppy is born, a small blood vessel called the ductus arteriosus allows blood to bypass the lungs, which are not yet being used. Normally, that blood vessel closes shortly after birth. In Storm's case, it remained open.

Because of that opening, her heart has been working much harder than normal to pump enough blood through her body. That constant strain has already caused her heart to become enlarged, and without surgery she will eventually develop congestive heart failure and die.

The surgery needs to take place as soon as possible.

Any help you are able to give Dawn and Storm would be sincerely appreciated.

Well, that's about it for this week. I hope everyone has a wonderful week ahead.

— Odell Sneeden Hathaway III

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