Mission: Space

I was just watching a show on PBS about space exploration. I tuned in during a synopsis on the Apollo 13 mission and, as always, got nervous as the astronauts in space and scientists on the ground had to figure out a way to get the men safely home despite a huge hole in the spacecraft, a defunct second oxygen tank, and a possibly malfunctioning heat panel. And when they landed with success in the water? Of course my vision went blurry with tears. Space exploration always gets to me.

After some unknown force guided my hand to ABC's supposedly addictive Dancing With the Stars, a show I found to be intolerable for more than two minutes, I flipped back to ol' trusty PBS, right in time to see the Challenger explode. It's funny--when I think back to the Challenger disaster, I remember being in Miss Johnson's class. I seem to recall learning about it then. I knew for sure it was in 1986, but this Wikipedia article confirms that it was in January of '86 and not after my first grade school year with Miss Johnson would've started in August. Funny how the mind convinces you of these things.

When I was younger, I remember feeling especially saddened about the death of Christa McAuliffe (back row, second from left), the teacher who was to be sent up in space along with the all-astronaut Challenger crew. In reading about her now, I understand that my sympathy was somewhat constructed by NASA and the media--one of the goals of her presence and of the Teachers in Space program was (and is) to generate more public attention for the space program. Well, it worked for me. Any time photographs of the deceased astronauts was in the paper or on television, my eyes would drift straight to hers. She had a daughter my age, and she was a teacher. A teacher. And everyday person.

Now when I look at the photo of the seemingly energetic and ecstatic crew, it's Ron McNair's face that gets my attention. He's the one in the front row, sitting on the far right. He just looks so eager and ready. I just know he was the nicest guy, quick with a joke or to light up your smoke. I get the feeling--the altogether faulty one, I'm sure--that this photograph was taken minutes before they boarded the shuttle, ready to face the final frontier.

I can't imagine what it must have been like to be in sight of the Challenger when it took off, let alone to know someone on board as we stood and watched it leave from its port. Seventy-three seconds between blast-off and explosion. Imagine the noise--the machinery, the rumbling, the vibrations, the crowd, the running.


My parents can see and hear shuttle takeoffs from their house in Melbourne, FL. Cape Canaveral is just 10-20 miles away. Oh, why do I shy away from exact mileage here? My parents tell me the exact distance frequently. It's 17 miles away. At least I think so.
The first time I went to their house after they relocated to Florida, I was up in the middle of the night. I started sensing a rumbling in the tiles under my feet, the keys under my fingertips as I typed late-night emails to my friends. What was that? I checked the dryer; I felt the dishwasher to see if it was running. I pressed my palm against the warm glass of the window. The window was vibrating, ever so gently and rapidly. Nervously, I stepped outside the front door and onto the driveway that was brand-new to me. The vibrations and rumbling were much louder out here and getting more intense by the second. Everywhere, sound. Nothing was visibly shaking, but there was an energy to the thick, humid air. I was shocked to see that my parents, their neighbors, the cops! weren't outside on the streets, curious and demanding to see what the ruckus was about. An earthquake in Florida? Doubtful, plus it was going on for too long...right?

A few minutes passed, and the sound began to subside. I crept back into the house, where things were suddenly serene and eerily quiet.

The next morning, I mentioned the strange incident to my mom--the light of day made the whole thing less alien-invader-like but I was still discombobulated. "Oh," she remarked lightly. "I told you--we're right near Cape Canaveral. There are shuttle take-offs in the middle of the night sometimes....it's really loud." With that, she left the kitchen.