A Cable to the Moon

The hidden immigrant hands behind the United States’ greatest journey

In 1968, while the United States raced toward the Moon, a sixteen-year-old Mexican immigrant in Los Angeles walked into a temporary warehouse job and was handed a problem nine trained candidates had already failed to solve.

She was the tenth.

Working wire by wire, pin by pin, Ramona Carrasco Ibarra built a massive Apollo ground-test harness used to help verify spacecraft systems before launch. Her name never entered the official story.

A Cable to the Moon is a deeply reported narrative nonfiction book about Ramona, the hidden labor behind Apollo, and the present-day investigation that connects family memory to the historical record.

The manuscript is already underway at about 42,000 words, built from interviews, archival research, and technical verification. This Kickstarter will fund the final professional steps needed to complete and publish the book.

This campaign is not charity. It is a pre-order, a restoration, and a chance to place a missing name back into history.

The Story

Ramona Carrasco Ibarra came to the United States in 1966. She left Guamúchil, Sinaloa, traveled via Tijuana, and hoped to study in Los Angeles and build a better future.

Instead, hardship struck early. Survival took the place of that dream.

Her story began long before Apollo.

On her father’s side was a family shaped by spectacle, loss, and abandonment.

Ramona’s paternal grandmother was a Japanese woman who, according to family memory, was unjustly jailed in the United States during a wave of anti-Asian prejudice before being taken in by Mexican circus performers. She became a trapeze artist and married a motorcycle stuntman.

She later fell to her death while performing before hundreds of spectators. The family was shattered. Ramona’s father then grew up through neglect, separation, and street survival before rebuilding his life in Mexico.

On her mother’s side, instability took a different form.

After her parents separated, Ramona was largely raised by her maternal grandparents in Tijuana. Their home was crowded and marked by political tension, ingenuity, and fear.

Her mother’s harshness left deep scars. Her grandparents’ steadiness gave her the discipline and endurance that would later define her working life.

Before she was hired to build the cable, Ramona had already been pushed into work out of necessity.

She babysat, did housework, sewed and sold decorative pillows door-to-door, and searched for jobs in person because there was no phone.

She faced prejudice, hunger, and constant instability.

At sixteen, after a challenge at home turned into a dare, she pursued her first job in electronics: a six-month position at an assembly company in Chatsworth.

She was underage. She had no formal experience. She did not meet the listed requirements.

Still, she walked into the interview alone, asked for five days to prove herself, and got the job.

That first foothold led to the next.

Soon after, a specialized temporary staffing agency serving the aerospace and electronics sectors sent her to another shop in Chatsworth, where a much larger assignment was waiting.

In repeated interviews over several years, she recalled being assigned to build a very large, multi-branch electrical cable using a full-size wiring diagram, a blueprint, and a bill of materials.

According to her account, the finished cable was about 100 feet long. It had a thick main trunk, many branches, relays, more than 200 connectors, and a mixed internal structure that included multiple wire gauges and likely coaxial runs.

What she thought would take three weeks took three months.

She built the harness piece by piece, branch by branch, connection by connection. She called it “The 1,000 Head Medusa.”

No one told her what it was for while she was building it.

She remembered performing two full continuity checks, path by path, before the cable was sleeved.

Then came a final formal electrical checkout.

Engineers arrived in trucks, and men dressed all in black arrived in limousines. They connected the harness to portable test consoles and verified each path through large light arrays.

Only after the final checkout did an engineer explain. He told her to watch the news in about a year, because the cable she had built would be used to test the electronic components of a spacecraft bound for the Moon.

The harness itself never went to space. But without systems like it, missions could not launch safely.

After Apollo, Ramona kept building a life in electronics and manufacturing.

In the 1990s, she worked at Teledyne, where she helped train employees to repair high-value avionics boards. She also became Production Supervisor at Kino Flo, the first woman hired into a managerial role there, helping reorganize the manufacturing floor.

Later, she founded Arin Electronics, her own electronics assembly company. She went from the bench to owning the business.

Her path was never linear.

After a weight-loss surgery went wrong in the mid-1980s, she spent months in the hospital and then five years bedridden. She lost her business, her cars, and her house while fighting to regain her health.

Even that did not end her working life.

She recovered. She rebuilt. She returned.

This book follows Ramona’s journey from Guamúchil to Tijuana to Los Angeles, the hardships surrounding the cable years, and the long working life that followed.

It is a story of migration, labor, trauma, endurance, reinvention, and skill.

It also carries a quieter echo.

As a child, Ramona was beaten with electrical cables. Years later, she would work with wires again, this time to build something exact, necessary, and tied to the future.

In that sense, the cable holds both damage and transformation.

How This Book Began

In September 2022, at a family lunch in Los Angeles, my aunt Fernanda “Yaya” Otalora said something casually that stopped me cold:

“Ramona made a cable for Apollo.”

The table fell silent.

I had loved space history for as long as I could remember. I thought I knew the Apollo story. But this was something else. Not legend. Not a rumor. Memory.

From the Apollo missions to the latest images from Hubble and the James Webb Space Telescope, space has always been a deep private fascination of mine. So when I heard Ramona’s name connected to Apollo, I could not let it go.

Months later, I asked her directly about the cable.

She smiled and, in her quiet voice, began to tell the story.

Since then, I have spent years interviewing Ramona and others who knew her, following archival leads, studying NASA technical material, and trying to connect family memory to documentary evidence.

A Cable to the Moon braids four narratives:

1- Ramona’s journey from Sinaloa to Los Angeles

2- The hidden workforce behind Apollo’s success

3- Ramona’s life and work after Apollo, from electronics and manufacturing to illness, recovery, and reinvention

A present-day investigation into how forgotten history survives

This is narrative nonfiction.

Carefully reported. Carefully verified. Deeply human.

What I Can Prove Right Now

This project is already real and well underway:

Approximately 42,000 words of manuscript drafted
Extensive recorded interviews with Ramona and people connected to her life and work
A reconstruction diagram of the “1,000 Head Medusa” harness
Research tied to NASA technical documentation on Acceptance Checkout Equipment (ACE)
Cross-checking with Apollo film logs, engineering language, and spacecraft test documentation
Three and a half years of reporting have already been completed

Your support funds completion and professional publication, not speculation.

Why Kickstarter

Traditional publishing often favors familiar stories.

Kickstarter allows readers to decide which histories deserve to exist.

By backing this project, you are:

Pre-ordering a professionally produced book
Supporting independent investigative storytelling
Helping preserve a fragile firsthand history while it can still be told
Participating directly in correcting the historical record

You are not just buying a book. You are helping history remember differently.

The reporting exists.
The manuscript exists.
The evidence trail exists.

This campaign funds the final professional steps needed to bring the book fully into the world.

The campaign video is bilingual because the story is bilingual. Ramona speaks in Spanish, I speak in English, and subtitles preserve the authenticity of how the story lives in our family.

Where Your Pledge Goes

We are raising $13,400 to complete professional production:

Copyediting
Sensitivity and historical review
Legal review
Cover design and interior layout
Ebook formatting
Distribution setup
Printing preparation and fulfillment materials
Platform and payment processing fees
Every dollar moves the manuscript from draft to permanent record.
Supporting independent investigative storytelling

Timeline

Spring 2026
Campaign and final reporting updates

Summer/Fall 2026
Editing, review, and production

Winter 2027
Publication and digital delivery

Spring 2027
Physical Reward fulfillment

Why Your Support Matters

History often waits too long to listen.

This campaign is about preserving not just one remarkable Apollo-era assignment, but the full arc of a life that stretched far beyond that cable.

After Apollo, Ramona kept working. She built a long career in electronics and manufacturing, including work at Teledyne and Kino Flo, and eventually came full circle by founding Arin Electronics, her own electronics assembly company. From the bench to running her own business, her life after the cable shows that Apollo was not an isolated miracle. It was one chapter in a much longer record of skill, discipline, reinvention, and endurance.

Your support helps make sure that the record is not lost.

If you believe history should include the people who actually built it...

If you believe immigrant stories are part of the story of the United States...

If you believe forgotten work deserves recognition...

Back A Cable to the Moon!

About the Author

My name is Guillermo Wightman, and I am a Colombian American writer based in Los Angeles.

I earned a degree in Journalism and Public Relations from California State University, Northridge. That training shaped the way I approached this project: by listening closely, testing claims, following documents, and trying to bridge the emotional truth of family memory with the factual rigor this story deserves.

My professional path has moved across very different worlds. Today I work in sales and client relations, but earlier in my career I spent nearly a decade in the entertainment industry, representing independent artists and producing live music events.

That work taught me something I still carry with me. Some of the most powerful voices are not the loudest. Some of the people who most deserve to be seen are the ones standing just outside the spotlight.

That idea became deeply personal when I heard Ramona’s story.

My fascination with space runs just as deep. I have long been drawn to Apollo, the history of human spaceflight, and the larger questions of exploration, technology, and human ambition.

When I realized that a hidden story within my own extended family might connect to Apollo, it felt as if two lifelong instincts had suddenly come together: my pull toward overlooked human stories and my enduring awe of the space age.

For the past several years, I have spent my nights interviewing, researching, verifying, and writing this book.

This is not an idea seeking funding.

It is years of work seeking completion.

Kickstarter makes it possible to finish this story transparently, professionally, and with readers as partners in bringing it to life.

Note on Sources and Privacy

This book is based on real events and extensive interviews. Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect privacy.

Join the Mission

Back the project.
Share the campaign.
Help history remember.

Because sometimes the most important journeys to the Moon never left Earth.

A Cable to the Moon: The Immigrant Teen Behind Apollo 11

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