In the final moments of the dream, I watched my 9th grade Spanish teacher throw a portable radio high into the air. As it landed with a crash, I awoke to the sound of my UCLA roommate, Bobby, bursting through our door. He had an early class on Tuesdays in that second semester of our sophomore year, but I generally got to sleep late. I was still caught up in the memory of the dream, but Bobby started talking loud and fast. “Hey, Dave!,” he said. “Did you hear that the space shuttle exploded?”
Just as with September 11, 2001, people old enough to have experienced that morning—January 28, 1986 (25 years ago this week)—are almost certain to remember where they were when they heard the news. Back then the space shuttle still inspired a lot of fascination, and missions got plenty of attention. This launch, of the Challenger, was more closely watched than most. Christa McAuliffe was on board: a high school teacher who was the first true civilian selected to fly into space (a couple of members of Congress had flown on previous missions). There had been extensive TV news coverage of McAuliffe’s selection and training. Millions of young students watched the launch on TVs in their classrooms that morning.
In my initial shock, some of my thoughts were deeply cynical. It struck me as suspicious that this shuttle mission, the one that had received so much attention in advance, would be the one to result in a tragedy. I speculated about the possibility that the launch had been sabotaged, perhaps by people in the government, for someone’s political or financial gain. But within hours a new sentiment took hold. As with the shootings in Tuscon a few weeks ago, this was a moment in which everyone was experiencing a sense of horror and loss. Even as each news cycle brought new, morbid details and finger-pointing, there was a shared feeling of sobriety and common purpose, and there was comfort in the sharing. When President Reagan spoke on the night of the disaster about the astronauts having "waved goodbye and slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God," I felt both moved and connected with everyone within reach of his voice. I felt like a citizen.
For those of you old enough to recall that day, what are your memories?
