Tomorrow they'll ask. I know they will. They don't know of my connection, only that I'm in Houston (mission control), only that it happened in Texas. They've never seen a launch, never met an astronaut. I know how to answer them; facts: debris spread across 28,000 miles in Texas alone (debris is also being found in Arkansas and Louisiana), 16 minutes before landing, 3 times the speed of sound, constant news coverage, spontaneous memorials, flags at half-mast. I won't be able to tell them how this effects me - I don't have the words really. I was born the year they put man in space. I saw the first manned space flight (earth orbit) for an American, I was 5 years old when Apollo 1 burned on the launch pad (Lt. Col 'Gus' Grissom was a friend of my dads). And I saw all the Gemini launches too. Later, I heard about the Astronauts walking in space. At every launch I could tell it was approaching without even being at the launch pad - not just the manned flights mind you, but rocket boosters, satellites, telemetry rockets, everything. Our home was so close we felt well connected to sense the inaudible at first rumble that sort of starts together at both the pads of your feet and in the bottom of your belly, but quickly moves to the windows in the house slowly shimmering then shaking, then the floor actually vibrating and the air seems to be filled with percussions (like standing too close to a Bass Drum in a marching band). Everything shakes but not bad like an earthquake -=- more seductive than that because just as it eases up to its intensity, it eases off from it as the spacecraft begins hurtling upward.

You could sit on my roof and watch it all. Or if you didn't feel like climbing you could just sit in the driveway and look over the neighbor's house across the street; you'd see it in a minute, just above the roofline, following it up in that most graceful arc - contrail behind it - spotter planes darting to-and-fro throughout the sky; sounds of the littler ones screaming happily and the adults usually clapping and sometimes cheering. This was my neighborhood. The space program was our life, it's what we knew as kids -- its why we knew we lived there. All of our dads were working in the space program, and maybe even a few of the moms too.

Sometimes, because of my dad's job, we could go and sit in the bleachers by the launch pads to see it up real close as it was launching. It was always always exciting - something we could skip ANY other activity for; we knew it was important. Not just to dad and his bringing home the money. It was important to America -- all of us -- and it made me feel immeasurably proud to be an American. It still does, despite tragedies like this.

I saw all the Skylab launches. I'd just turned 8 when we could start hearing from the astronauts themselves on the television -- this was when we first made it around the moon -- and WOW what a thrill that was -- the danger of losing radio contact for short while on re-entry - the mystery of what's on the dark side of the moon. And I was riveted in front of the television - the whole family there with me to see Neil Armstrong step down and say those unforgettable words. We cried knowing their significance. When I was 14 the Russians joined up with us to bring about the Apollo-Soyuz program; and felt especially proud when I received an official flight patch commemorating this very significant achievement. I watched the launch from the VIP stands at Kennedy Space Center.

As the Soyuz program continued, NASA refocused to bring about the new STS flights (the Space Shuttles) and I was there for them too. Before heading off to college I saw the first shuttle launch STS-1 (Columbia) -- and WOW what an incredible sight. Being gone for a few years, I missed a couple of flights but got back to Florida to see a few more. Challenger (STS-8) was the first night launch and having to work I was inside during take off but ran out to the parking lot to watch that ball of light hurling into heaven. It was spectacular. I moved to Texas the next month. Since then, I've not seen any more manned launches -- something that bothered me at first. I'd never dreamed (not really) of being an astronaut, but with my dad working there, I always have felt connected to the pursuit of this vision, science, dream, exploration. It feels to me like something we, we Americans, MUST do - and MUST continue to do.

...so even with the horrible tragedies we have suffered, in the past, as well as with today, we know we will go on - space will call to us again and we will return.

But for now, let it wait, give us time as a community, a family, and a broader group of lesser-known but nonetheless supporting neighbors. It is time to grieve and send our wishes to the loved ones of the seven who died in the skies over Texas yesterday. Let them have some space; let their children know the heroes they were blessed to have been raised by. Let their dreams be found not lost in the despair of the grieving, but be found in the hopes of faces looking up to the sky asking WHY - and what IS up there? Let us encourage that dream of exploration. The path has been cleared so perfectly by the warriors who have gone before; and to whom we will forever own a debt beyond repayments capabilities.

My prayers and condolences are with the husbands, wives, partners, children, and families of the seven who died aboard STS-107-2-002 Columbia: Rick D. Husband, Kalpana Chawala, William C. McCool, David M. Brown, Laurel B. Clark, Michael P. Anderson, and Ilan Ramon.

may God bless you and keep you

geoffy
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Last Updated: 02/03/03

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