I can't see the moon from my bedroom window. But I do like to go onto my patio to watch it rise majestically over Los Angeles. When I see the moon up there, I don't say to myself, "Hey, I walked on your face," or "Thanks for disrupting my life." I just feel grateful it let us land safely in 1969 and let us take off.

Believe it or not, my mother's maiden name was Moon. Her family came from Britain, and she suffered terribly from depression. Like my grandfather and cousins on her side of the family, she took her own life. It happened in 1968—a year before the Apollo 11 launch. It was tough, but I blocked it out by focusing on all the years she supported me—as did my father, who was an aviation pioneer and had known Orville Wright.

After Apollo 11 lifted off in Florida [on July 16, 1969], the three of us—me, Neil Armstrong and Mike Collins—traveled in space for three days to reach the moon's orbit.