I'm remembering the loss of the Space Shuttle Challenger and its crew, 40 years ago today. I
lived in Chicago at the time and was at work when the news broke. A bunch of
us had gathered in the hall outside my office, all feeling shocked and empty,
when my boss came up to see what was going on. When we told him, he said,
"That's a shame, but it's not important right now, so get back to work."
I've always hoped it didn't take him long to realize this actually was important. At the time, I felt somehow traumatized, and I think that was because teacher
Christa McAuliffe was on board, and teachers have always been special heroes
to me. It made this kind of personal, above and beyond the horror of the
actual explosion and fatalities.
Later that day, I watched the videos of the event over and over, and I broke
down and cried — quite a bit. I've lived through many national tragedies, but
this was the first that I was old enough to understand its depth and
ramifications. And to this day, the images of that day haunt me more than any
other, save those from 9/11.
