Among the people I have admired are many astronauts, those bravest of man- and womankind who push the limits of machines and humanity while reaching for the stars.
Space flight related accidents have killed 22 astronauts since the inception of the American space program, and an even larger number of ground crew members have given their lives to the cause. We should never forget any of them or the contributions their sacrifices made to the advancement of science and our understanding of the cosmos.
Three of the most well known of our space related accidents all occurred within the same seven day period of late January / early February, though all in different years, and so today I pause to remember their names.
On January 27, 1967, at Pad 34, the crew of Apollo One were killed in a fire while training for a future manned mission. The crew was sealed inside the Command Module and had no means of escape. The deaths of Virgil I. “Gus” Grissom, Ed White and Roger B. Chaffee were not in vain however, the lessons learned made all future Apollo missions safer and culminated in our landing of several crews on the lunar surface from 1969 to 1972.
On February 1, 2003, damage sustained during lift-off triggered a catastrophic thermal protection barrier failure on shuttle Columbia during re-entry following a succesful two-week mission in space. Rick D. Husband, William McCool, Michael P. Anderson, David M. Brown, Kalpana Chawla, Laurel B. Clark, and Ilan Ramon were all lost.
Both of these were sad days for the space program and those of us who love and admire the achievements of all involved, but for me the Challenger accident, which happened on this day in 1986 is the one that hurts the most. The loss of shuttle Challenger was preventable, but our hubris got in the way. I will never forget where I was or who I was with when the news came that we’d lost that beautiful ship.
I was a student at Western Carolina University and I had just finished having lunch with my best friend at the time. We had hoped to get back to my room in time to watch the lift-off on the tiny black and white television I had, but we were too late.
I remember standing there in shock, watching the continuous replays of the disastrous 73 second flight. I will never forget the day I watched the Challenger fall, or where I was or who I was with, and I have tried to make it a point to never forget the names of those on board who gave their lives that humankind could know learn about our world and the universe we inhabit.
Greg Jarvis, Christa McAuliffe, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Judith Resnik, Michael J. Smith, and Dick Scobee, may you rest in peace and fare thee well brave souls, we will will never forget you.
Today, my little boy is a space geek like his dad, and he loves the shuttle program. We watch every launch and landing and quite a bit of the in flight missions. He even records them on our DVR to replay later.
Maybe someday he’ll decide to sit atop one of those giant candles – though by then it’ll be a very different bird. If so, I hope I’m still around to watch, I’ll still hold my breath as the sky fills with fire, smoke, and thunder – at least until after that fateful call is made, “Go at throttle up.”
Ahhh, the Heavens and the Earth. When I was a kid, my dad (at the time) worked for a small aeronautics company in Anaheim, California. They contracted projects from NASA back in the 60’s. I remember him talking about they made this or they’d already shipped that and these were components of what would become Apollo 11. Some of that stuff could actually end up on the moon. I was fascinated by the whole thing, as well.
Last summer, I was trying to explain “splashdown” to my own kids. An abstract concept, for sure. Along the lines of rotary phones (what?) and records. No, my babies, we had no iPods and we were confined by the length of the chord during telephone conversations. Forty years, already? I found myself; once again, thankful for our computer, as one thing that hasn’t changed is a picture (or video) is still beneficial during an explanation. At times, words are not even necessary.
Some things have advanced far beyond the original concept and some remain painfully the same. While we can now discuss whether there is or is not water on Mars and is Pluto really a planet, down here on the not-so-level playing field, rape, murder, and war (among other things) hang right in there.
I witnessed some horrific things during that summer of love; one was the permanent end of my childhood. Some things I saw, like what people are really capable of doing to each other, will remain seared in my mind’s eye for the duration. Some, I chose to forget.
I also have a vivid memory of watching the Challenger tragedy. It must be a means of self-preservation or some internal anti-insanity mechanism (how well it works is probably debatable), but each time I hear “Go at throttle up”, my mind reverts back to how I felt the first time I heard “Roger, Houston…the Eagle has landed”.
“You’ve got a bunch of guys about to turn blue!”
Though I’m not old enough to remember the moment, I was watching – Mom and Dad made sure I witnessed that bit of history.
Thanks for sharing your perspective. You should write more often, if you don’t already, you have a very natural “voice.”
That’s very kind of you to say and I do appreciate your interest. As I’ve said I have enjoyed reading your blog(s).
I do write quite a bit, actually, most of it nobody else ever reads and a good deal of it is poetry, but that’s another story.
Herein, the problem lays…deeply rooted in contrast and conflict. Back in the day, the powers that were, those authority figures in uniform, and those who claimed to have my best interest at heart, advised that keeping quiet could possibly keep me alive. That’s how I functioned, but not how I am. I would not argue that the rage is thinly veiled, nor would I disagree that what I am meant to write would be hard to swallow, difficult to stomach, and problematic to absorb. I would infuriate the guilty, exasperate those who were lied to, and possibly (make that probably) endanger the innocent (i.e. my own).
Please accept my thanks for allowing me to invade your valuable personal space and forgive me my own agenda. Perhaps, someday, I’ll find the time and space to put it all down on paper or screen and open the flood gates. Until I kick open that first door, I firmly believe the surplus will remain unsaid. Hopefully, I’ll find my own version of the voice proclaiming…”Houston, we have a problem”.