remembering columbia

Ten years ago today, I was at home, still half asleep, when I received word of the space shuttle Columbia tragedy. My mom rang, but as I was wont to do in those days, I let the machine pick up. Clearly upset, she began to leave a message explaining the heartbreaking news. I eventually picked up and turned on the television... I could never bring myself to erase that message; it died along with my phone system in 2011.

In the years since then, there have been plenty of remembrances, many of them artistic in nature. I remember walking in Brooklyn past a street mural, painted by school children, depicting the Columbia crew. There is, of course, a memorial at the Kennedy Space Center, which I visited a few years ago. More recently, I discovered a lovely, if haunting, song called "The Commander Thinks Aloud," by the Long Winters...

Just three days before the accident, John Lennon's "Imagine" was the wake-up song for the Columbia crew. I recommend you listen to the clip in its entirety, as it includes not only the song as it was played in low earth orbit that day, but the inspirational, timeless, and, at least to me, tear-inducing comments of astronauts Willie McCool and Ilan Ramon.

RIP to the Columbia seven. You will not be forgotten. ∞

saying goodbye, times two

“The end of an era.” It's a phrase that's been uttered countless times these past two weeks, as the country and the world waited with anticipation for the last chapter of NASA’s storied space shuttle program to come to a close. Having trekked to Cape Canaveral to witness Atlantis’s final two launches in person—and having known only one American spaceflight program in my lifetime—I certainly joined in the fanfare. Yet those five little words had not one but two melancholy meanings for me this week in particular, as I counted down to an ending of my own: I officially left New York City after a dozen remarkable years and headed off into a whole new cosmos. In many ways, I’m incredibly hopeful for both the future of human spaceflight and for my days ahead in a new city. But I find myself this week stuck in the gloaming, that transition time between day and night, with bittersweet emotions all over, often in places where I'd least expected them. So, here’s where I raise a glass—let's make that two. To the space shuttle, and to Gotham: You will both always be in my heart. &infin



Photo credits: Top - NASA; Bottom - pixbymaia

up up and away

last one by shlomi yoav

And so it is time for me to bid adieu to the space shuttle. The very last mission is set to begin this week with the launch of the Atlantis orbiter from the Kennedy Space Center on the Florida coast. This particular launch is a gift from the American people, whose representatives voted last year to tack on one last go before the entire shuttle fleet is permanently grounded and the orbiters put on their pedestals for future generations to ooh and ahh at. Yet those same politicians are also now looking to drastically defund NASA in what amounts to a serious rethinking of whether or not America has a real future in space. Will the U.S. forever take a back seat to the Russians or Chinese or anyone else in our quest to land humans on Mars? It could very well happen. In the U.S. we certainly like to talk the talk when it comes to being innovators, in space development and otherwise, but so often in the past decades, walking the walk has proven to be another story altogether.

Millions of words will be spoken, penned, blogged, and microblogged about this final countdown, so I won't clog the fiber optic cables with too many thoughts on this bittersweet occasion. But I will say that in the end I choose to believe that the American people will keep outer space in mind when they fill out their ballots of the future. And how, you ask, will we do this in the face of economic uncertainty, declining political will and an ever-straining space budget? By reaching out to each other. In the past couple of years I've met, virtually and in real life, more folks than I'd ever known existed who consider space exploration—both robotic and human-based—one of the most important endeavors humanity can undertake. And these folks have passion. If we can group together, to share our excitement with those unaware of what our space program actually does, to get our representatives to think beyond the next election and out toward the stars, to teach our little ones about what they might one day discover beyond our blue planet, we'll have a force to be reckoned with when it comes to our future in the cosmos.

A friend of mine is still hoping to be an astronaut someday. Despite NASA's uncertain future, he and others like him are keeping the dream alive by continuing to do what astronauts and all scientists do: constantly asking questions. What a stupendous waste it will be if we let this collective bundle of energy and human spirit go for naught.

And with that, I'll leave you with this brilliant 45-minute visual feast of the space shuttle on its way off the pad. I dare you not to marvel as you sit and watch, agog and wide-eyed, at the ingenuity it took to make this peculiar bird fly up, up, and away. &infin

remembering challenger

I was only eight when the Challenger disaster occurred on that icy January morning in 1986. I distinctly remember perching on my chair in Mrs. M's third grade class, eager to watch the launch on the bulky brown television that had been wheeled in so that my fellow classmates and I could feel like we were a part of the action. At the time, it seemed a matter of course—at least to us kids—that people could routinely travel to space and to the moon. Even girls could be shuttle explorers after Sally Ride had flown on the Challenger three years earlier! We were encouraged to include 'astronaut' among our future career choices anytime a grown-up asked. And we did.

Third grade happened to coincide with my first real exposure to astronomy, too. It was the first time, for instance, that I learned about my very eager mother . . . not to mention the pizzas she'd just served us—though there are plenty of folks today who'd urge us to skip the pizza. As a child of the 80s, imagining that someday I, too, might fly through the asteroid belt or make a quick trip to the canyons of Mars seemed a perfectly reasonable ambition. I was ready to sign up.

To add to the excitement of the day, we'd been told that Christa McAuliffe was going to become the first schoolteacher ever, in the history of the world, to travel into space. We knew about this not just because it was all over the news, but because our school's phys ed teacher had also applied for the Teacher in Space program. And boy, did he get us excited about it! I don't recall whether Mr. W ever disclosed how far along in the process he'd reached before being cut, but he'd clearly felt that doing experiments to gauge how microgravity affected physical fitness would have been one of the greatest gifts he could give to students at our elementary school and around the country.

And then . . . the forked puffy cloud. The confusion. The silence.

It's clear to me now that I was too young to truly understand death. I had actually lost a grandmother just a month before, but my still-developing brain prevented me from grasping the enormity of her passing until much later. Obviously it was the same for these seven people I'd never even met. Yet my classmates and I knew right away that something terrible had just happened. And we were all a little scared.

The Challenger incident has stayed with me over the past quarter-century, well into my adult life. My love of all things space grew as time marched on, and when the shuttle program resumed, I once again looked forward to watching launches on the news, and later, on NASA TV. But to this day, there's a palpable anxiousness in the last hour or so before liftoff. And until I hear the "main engine cutoff" call from mission control, my heart remains firmly embedded in my throat. Sadly, ever since the Columbia breakup in 2003, shuttle landings have become equally nerve-wracking for the same grim reasons.

To be sure, I recognize that many of us put our lives on the line every single day. I think of miners and factory workers who endure precarious and downright dangerous conditions on a daily basis. And there are the firefighters, police officers, and other civil servants who purposely risk bodily harm for the sake of the common good. Heck, every time we get behind the wheel we put ourselves at the mercy of road conditions and other drivers. And yet I can't help but get verklempt when I think of the men and women who voluntarily strap themselves to the back of a rocket and hope that a million things go right on their way out to the stars and back. One of my longtime dreams of attending a shuttle launch finally came true last May, and I can assure you that there were tears streaming down my cheeks as I watched that plume reach deep into the brilliant Florida sky. As with every mission since STS-51-L, I was thinking of Challenger that afternoon—and yes, Columbia, too.

So today marks 25 years since that fateful morning back in 1986. I'm now 33, and sad to say I haven't yet booked my flight to the asteroid belt. In 2007, though, Christa McAuliffe's alternate, fellow teacher-astronaut Barbara Morgan, did eventually carry the torch for educators when she flew aboard the shuttle Endeavor and visited the International Space Station.

The legacies of those lost with the Challenger—Jarvis, McAuliffe, McNair, Onizuka, Resnik, Smith, and Scobee—live on in all of us who were watching that day. I, for one, will never forget. ∞

Lego photo courtesy of BriXwerX on Flickr

space coast adventures

Last week I had the privilege of being a guest for the final launch of the space shuttle Atlantis from NASA's Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, FL. The launch itself was magical, a once-in-a-lifetime event that certainly lived up to the hype of being way better in person than on TV. But I also took an extra day to explore the KSC grounds since I'd never visited before, and I was pleasantly surprised at the depth of the offerings, both for children and adults alike.

As of this writing, there are only two planned shuttle missions to go before the entire space program ceases. Naturally, there is quite a bit of concern about lost jobs and a decline in tourism on the Space Coast following the STS-134 mission, which is currently slated to launch in November. But I'd argue that KSC can remain a tourist destination for some time, with or without shuttle launches, if NASA can step up its game and do a little more to draw people in. Aside from the main visitor center, which caters more to children, I was particularly impressed with the newer Saturn V Center, which houses not only an entire full-scale Saturn V rocket but a wonderful museum dedicated to the history and science behind the Apollo program. After this year it might be quite a while before we see piloted missions launching from the Cape again, so I'd suggest NASA would be wise to hurry up and build a similar annex dedicated to the shuttle program to help sustain tourism in the area.

In the meantime, I still think KSC is well worth a visit for anyone interested in space exploration. And of course, if you have the chance to attend one of the two remaining shuttle launches, by all means do it! Just know that there will be lines, and lots of them, if you happen to stop by around launch time. Anyway, here are some pics from my recent adventures on the Space Coast! ∞

tunes to start your day...in space

I've always thought it pretty groovy that our space agency maintains a tradition of beaming wake-up songs to astronauts at the start of each new day in low Earth orbit. This little routine is observed not only to ease the transition from "sleep time" to "awake time," but to encourage a sense of camaraderie between flight crew and NASA managers on the ground. Last week I was even more delighted to learn that NASA keeps a detailed log of all the wake-up songs played for astronauts over the years! So in honor of the successful landing of the space shuttle Discovery just a few moments ago, I've put together a list of 25 of the best wake-up songs blasted on the space shuttle throughout the program's 29-year history.

The astronaut wake-up song tradition dates back to the Gemini and Apollo programs of the 1960s. Today, musical selections are made by managers at mission control in Houston and by crew members' families. Often, songs are played for individual astronauts. For example, there have been quite a few college fight songs (ex: "Hail Purdue" for various Boilermaker astronauts); songs about states or cities from which astronauts hail (ex: Billy Joel's "New York State of Mind" for New York native Mike Massimino); and songs featuring astronauts' names (ex: "Come on Eileen" by Dexy's Midnight Runners for STS-114 commander Eileen Collins).

Songs may also reflect specific missions or tasks for a particular day. For instance, Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," which features a verse about Galileo, was selected in honor of the Galileo spacecraft, the main payload onboard STS-34. And Kylie Minogue's "Walking on Sunshine" was played on the day of an important spacewalk during STS-113. Of course, there have also been plenty of songs that simply reflect the wonder of waking up on Atlantis, Challenger, Columbia, Discovery, or Endeavour with a view of the world below and the infinity of space above. (In case you were wondering, prior to reentry this morning, the STS-131 crew awoke to Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again.")

Without further ado, here are my shuttle song selections! Wherever possible (from STS-91 on) I've linked to the actual wake-up call recordings, which include astronaut greetings from mission control. ∞

Rocket Man - Elton John (STS-51D: April 18, 1985)
A Hard Day's Night - The Beatles (STS-30: May 8, 1989)
Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen (STS-34: October 21, 1989)
Kokomo - The Beach Boys (STS-31: April 27, 1990)
Shiny Happy People - R.E.M. (STS-58: October 25, 1993)
All I Wanna Do - Sheryl Crow (STS-72: January 18, 1996)
Space Oddity - David Bowie (STS-78: June 24, 1996)
Higher Love - Steve Winwood (STS-82: February 15, 1997)
Manic Monday - The Bangles (STS-91: June 8, 1998)
Girls Just Want to Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper (STS-92: October 13, 2000)
Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles (STS-97: December 7, 2000)
Fly Away - Lenny Kravitz (STS-98: February 18, 2001)
She Blinded Me With Science - Thomas Dolby (STS-102: March 15, 2001)
Voodoo Chile - The Jimi Hendrix Experience (STS-110: April 13, 2002)
Message in a Bottle - The Police (STS-110: April 19, 2002)
Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead (STS-107: January 19, 2003)
Imagine - John Lennon (STS-107: January 29, 2003)
Clocks - Coldplay (STS-121: July 10, 2006)
The Astronaut - Something Corporate (STS-121: July 17, 2006)
Homeward Bound - Simon and Garfunkel (STS-118: August 21, 2007)
Have You Ever - Brandi Carlile (STS-124: June 4, 2008)
In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel (STS-127: July 25, 2009)
Beautiful Day - U2 (STS-130: February 11, 2010)
Galileo - Indigo Girls (STS-131: April 13, 2010)
What a Wonderful World - Louis Armstrong (STS-131: April 18, 2010)