Before I went on my first date with John, my three brothers teased me mercilessly, demanding that I ask to see a moon rock. As it turned out, years later, John and I had dinner with Uncle Jim and Aunt Patsy at their Washington, D.C., residence. Uncle Jim—confined to a wheelchair due to Parkinson’s—still exuded his vibrant personality. After dinner he took us to his study. Although there were no moon rocks, there was a wall of Apollo memorabilia, including autographed photos of astronauts and a framed American Flag that had traveled to the moon and back.

When I passed the NC State Bar Exam in 1980, Uncle Jim was the first to send me a hand-written note of congratulations. I cherish that note to this day.