I've told this story before. But on this 40th anniversary of the very first walk on the moon, like an old grandpa, I'll tell it again.

I'd bought tickets to see Blind Faith and was psyched, until I realized that it was the night of the very first manned moon landing — and the very first walk on the moon. I was so torn: The moon landing was such an incredibly exciting and uncertain event, but I was also a music fanatic (surprise), and the idea of seeing Eric Clapton (he was so good back then), Stevie Winwood (he was so good back then) and Ginger Baker (he is still pretty good) was a one-shot chance. I was still kicking myself for missing the Goodbye Cream Tour the year before.

The moon landing was scheduled around late afternoon or early evening — I can't recall — but the astronauts were scheduled to take a rest before they did their walk. So I figured I could go to the concert and drive back from Baltimore in time to see the walk. It didn't happen that way. The moon walk happened earlier than planned, or at least earlier than the television news had led me to believe. In fact, Ginger Baker wouldn't come out (or so we were told) until the moon walk happened.

There were no big screens at the Baltimore Civic Center, and no simulcasts. In fact, when my friend Pete and I got home, it was just a few steps away from their re-entry into the lunar lander. There were no instant replays, either.

I've never looked back with regret. To me, the decision to go hear Clapton, Winwood and Baker reflects who I was as a 16-year-old. In many ways, it reflects who I still am.