It's something about observation. I only remember two times the moon disappeared. Both of them happened in Louisiana, both on the banks of the Mississippi.
The first time I was eight years old. I was sitting in the back seat of our family Datsun station wagon. Dad was driving. We were on a vacation to see the USA. There was a quiet quarrel going on in the front seat about whether or not we should have stayed another night in New Orleans--since we weren't going to make Baton Rouge before dark. I was thinking back-seat thoughts.
Then mom saw a sign that said ALLIGATOR FARM AND VOODOO MAGICK SHOP AHEAD. Oh, Daddy--she called him "daddy" even though there was just the me--let's stop.