Where were you thirty years ago
today, when you heard the news? Do you remember what you were doing?
On January 28, 1986, the space
shuttle Challenger rose on a
thunderous cloud of smoke into the cold blue Florida sky. Seventy-three seconds
later, a failed O-ring allowed flames to escape one of the solid rocket boosters and ignite
the external fuel tank. A massive explosion tore the space shuttle apart. Seven
astronauts died.
Shuttle flights had become routine,
but this one was different. A high school teacher had won a trip on the shuttle
to give lessons in space. Millions watched this launch on television, and
witnessed a disaster.
At that time, I lived in Redlands, California,
and worked as a librarian at a law school library in Fullerton. My commute took
at least forty-five minutes, if traffic and weather were good. I listened to
the launch proceedings until I arrived at the college. Delays had pushed back
the launch. I went into the library believing Challenger would soon be on its way into orbit.
At some point that morning, I left my
desk in the staff workroom and stopped to speak with Ann, a student employee at
the main desk. She told me the shuttle had blown up.
I hurried back to the office.
Another student employee, Cameron, was there.
“Did you hear the space shuttle
exploded?” I blurted out.
His eyes rounded. He could only
shake his head.
I pointed to the radio. “Turn it
on.”
He did, and the awful news filled the
room. Challenger was no more. Seven
lives―gone.
Does the loss of Challenger remind you of the loss of the Titanic? Both were doomed by over-confidence and poor decisions of
man, believing himself to have mastered his universe. That attitude is an accident
waiting to happen.
