On January 28, 1986, I was home from school with the flu. I remember that, no matter what I did, I couldn't get warm, so I was sitting in a hot bath when my mom knocked on the bathroom door.
"There was an accident with the space shuttle," she said, in the same voice she used when she told me that my grandmother had died.
For the next few hours, I sat on the couch, wrapped up in as many blankets as we had, and watched one of the local news networks – probably ABC – cover the unfolding disaster. Because of the fever and the years between now and then, I can't recall a single detail other than how impossible the whole thing felt. How could something like that even happen? And did it mean that we'd never put people into space again?
This morning, I sat in my office and watched the shuttle Atlantis launch into space via a NASA TV stream through VLC on a monitor that is bigger than my family's 1986 television. When mission control gave the order to go with throttle up, I held my breath like I have every single time since the shuttle program was reinstated in 1988, and when the shuttle separated from the boosters and glided into orbit, I got something in my eye. Just take a moment, if you don't mind, and think about what it means that we can leave our planet, even if we've "only" gotten as far as the dark side of the moon. Think about what it means that something as incredible as putting humans into space and bringing them back safely to Earth today earns less media attention and public excitement than the typical celebrity breakup.
It is amazing that we can do this, and even though I've come to believe the shuttle program isn't the best way to spend NASA's tiny budget (which is a pitiful fraction of what it should be), I hope that there was a child watching the launch today who will feel inspired to reach out to the stars and see what's out there.
We humans are a flawed species, to put it mildly, and I think we could do a much better job taking care of our planet and each other … but when I see what we're capable of doing, it gives me hope that the future I pretended to live in twenty years ago will actually arrive some day.
FSMspeed, Atlantis.
I remember our science teacher just gave us the day off.
It isn’t just for launches any longer. I have the same feeling when they’re coming home, too. I think it is important that we never take it for granted but there are very few things that can create such a feeling of love and pride and awe and terror in me all at the same time.
Challenger is our generation’s JFK. We all remember where we were, what we were doing when it happened. Our school had brought in TVs and we were watching it. Live. It was utter shock and horror. A roomful of 4th and 5th graders, and their teachers all sat transfixed in complete disbelief.
I listened to “Stars” by Hum this morning on my way to work. My little send off for Atlantis.
I was home sick as well. I was playing Impossible Mission on my Commodore 64 when I heard the news on the radio. I went and watched the coverage on TV for the rest of the day. It was the first time for me that NASA felt fallible.
Wow Wil! A few years ago I wrote a blog about things I wanted to remember. Things that left a mark on me though I wasn’t directly involved in these events. On that very day, I was home sick with an awful cold. In Kitchener Ontario Canada. It was very cold outside. I was sitting watching tv in the living room, I was watching the launch. I saw it happen live. I was 14 years old. It freaked me right out. I was stunned. Shocked. And I too have that quivery feeling on each launch. I felt the same way on 9/11. We were watching the news on CNN when the second plane hit.
I lived in Central Florida, and we went outside to the playgound to watch every shuttle launch. This one was maybe more special because my science teacher was one of the contestants who Christa McAuliffe had beaten out for the opportunity to go up in the shuttle. We had all watched a lot of shuttle launches though, so we were still a bit bored. We watched it on and off as it went higher into the sky, then we began to notice that something was different. Looking up at that ball of smoke, with two pillars of smoke curving off in different directions, with no TV announcers to comment on it, we began making up explanations in the way children do. Someone suggested the shuttle blew up, we all promptly told her she must be wrong. Of course we learned later she was right. We spent the rest of the day watching television in the class room.
My school was watching it on TVs as well. When it blew up I remembering thinking, “I don’t remembering seeing it do that before.” I couldn’t process what had happened for a second. It just didn’t enter the realm of possible. Then then it hit me. That was the moment some innocent part of me died. I finally understood the world. I mean, actually understood bad things could happen. I was 9 years old at the time, so this was a big revelation.
I was in college and between classes, so I was watching the launch.. I always watch the launch. Today I was on my laptop.. strange since in 1986 it was on an old black & white TV in a dorm room..
Amazing, always has been, always will be
Wil, Although this doesn’t have anything to do with this particular post, I’m too lazy to figure out how to contact you. Anyway, I wanted to urge you to participate in a future episode of Literary Death Match. (http://www.literarydeathmatch.com if you don’t know it.) Those of us who are WW and LDM fans would love to see you live and in-person there. If you’re inclined to learn more, please make friends with Todd Zuniga (@toddzuniga) and tell him I nudged you.
Jody
While I’ve never lived on the Space Coast, I’ve loved being able to watch as the shuttle goes up each time. There isn’t a bad view in Central Florida.
I love NASATV. It was amazing being able to watch as the Atlantis rolled over Earth and to see her glide away as the fuel tank departed.
@Amy: Love that song.
I remember that day in grade school as well. When the world was projecting doom for space research, I was even more motivated to find a career in the space industry. By the age of 22, I accomplished that goal and we have a nice shiny station in orbit that I can proudly say I had a hand in doing. My life and priorities (and job) may have moved a bit since then, but I still find myself deeply connected to the industry and can’t help but think about all the people working silently in the background who actually make these things happen.
And yes, NASA needs a bigger budget!
Similarly, I was home the day Columbia had trouble landing. I was in disbelief when I saw it fall apart. I must say, I shed a tear as well seeing Atlantis take off, and having known several astronauts and their kids (my classmates), hoping every SECOND that something doesn’t blow up or fall off.
We should continue manned space exploration, with or without the shuttle. It disappoints me we don’t have a transition plan in place. Hopefully, in 20 years, we’ll have people en route to Mars.
I was sitting in the MEMPS station in Memphis, TN on my first day in the Air Force. I was honored to be selected to design and paint a tribute to the shuttle crew on the day room wall in our dorm. Today, I stood outside my office building and watched Atlantis take what is probably her last flight. I hope the space program continues to grow and flourish but I will miss the shuttles.
“Oh I Have Slipped
The Surly Bonds of Earth…
Put Out My Hand
And Touched the Face of God ”
That day, I was on a field trip for this design class I was taking my senior year at Clemson. We were on our way to a fiberglass factory because the design project we were working on was how to create fiberglass out of lunar soil. I was the only one in the van with a Walkman and was therefore the first to hear the news. It made for a somber trip. Later, when we went to Johnson Space Center to try and make fiberglass in a vacuum chamber, you could see how it affected NASA personnel. They were keeping a stiff upper lip about the whole deal, but you could see it bothered them.
Well said! This is one of the “remember where you were?” of our generation.
I’ll always remember the sense of denial and subsequent shock of finding out that what could never happen, had happened.
FSMspeed indeed.
I remember we were watching the launch live in the school library for science class. The teacher ran out crying when it happened, and the school principal had to come and explain to some of the kids what had occurred.
I listen to “Lost in the Blue” by Minstrels of Mayhem every January 28th since they recorded the song. it’s a beautiful tribute, done as if they were a lost sailing ship.
When I first heard the news, back in high school, I thought I was being pranked, and it was many minutes before I was convinced it was for real.
I tweeted about the same “Go at throttle up” feeling you did this afternoon, at almost the same moment… You’d think we’d be over that by now.
What a great post! I was too young to remember Challenger, but I’ve always loved the grandeur of space and the mystical nature of the stars. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut, and our family trip to Florida, with a pit stop at the Kennedy Space Station, was one I’ll remember forever! I still have my laminated posted of Discovery blasting-off, with gold trim on the sides to match the beautiful orange glow beneath the shuttle.
I’m so sad that the shuttle programme is ending… It means I’ll never make it to a launch to feel the heat of the moment live. But maybe they’ll want to send a writer to space, at some point, and that writer will be me! 🙂
I have a vague memory of the Challenger disastor. I was at school and a kid that was a year younger than me, Casey Brown, was crying because of it. Some of the other kids picked on him for crying about it. I’d like to say I wasn’t one of them but its a long time ago and I was in a new school trying deperately to fit in so its possible I joined in the taunting. But I’ll never forget his face, tearing up as we stood there on the sidewalk outside Bucyrus Elementary School.
I watched the launch today, at first trying to hide the video on my monitor here at work, then deciding to hell with it, I’m watching history and if anyone has a problem with it they can take it up with me after final separation. I didn’t have audio (no speakers at my desk) but I counted down in my head as the boosters ignited and liftoff occurred. I watched as the shuttle made its “flip” as it ascended, holding my breath as it reached the point where Challenger died, reliving the video of that moment in my head as I watched Atlantis fly. I kept the video up through booster separation and the Shuttle’s final spin before she broke away from the fuel tank and soared into the heavens. As the video cut back to Kennedy I wondered if Casey Brown, the boy who cried for Challenger, was somewhere watching this too.
I too was home sick when the Challenger exploded. Something was in my eye that day and has been everyteme I watch one launch.
I hope we can find a more reliable, safer, and economical way to get into space. I am fan of SpaceX.
The Challenger Explosion marked two very important moments in my life. I was only in second grade when it happened and I remember getting the news at school. That was the first time I can remember feeling that awful sadness mixed with relief feeling. I was so sad because I instantly understood that people had just lost loved ones and I was relieved because it hadn’t been MY teacher on the shuttle.
It was also the first time I learned that adults aren’t always the greatest people to confide in because when I told my baby-sitter how I felt about it she told me that I was going to go to hell for being such a mean kid. It took my Mom a long time to convince me otherwise (though finding a new baby-sitter took no time at all).
I just got lots of stuff in my eye. Thanks for this, Wil. Beautiful! I was in school that day in 1986. I lived in Illinois and was obsessed with becoming an astronaut. That day, I became more obsessed as I watched that two-forked ball of flame on the television screen in the school’s gym. In the months that followed, I would learn about o-rings and fuel leakage and weather and all that, and I would still not waver in my plan. I wanted to go to space. I would learn about Chaffee, Grissom, and White and understand why a pure oxygen atmosphere was bad and still want to go more than anything. My life has turned out differently, as is often the way of things, but I still have hope. Someday, maybe…we will overcome this mortal coil and travel the stars. Safe journeys, Atlantis.
Saw the launch today – thanks to your reminder – and, as usual whenever I see anything to do with the Space Program, I too remembered the Challenger.
I even thought about blogging about it myself, but decided to blog about my interest in space as a kid, instead:
Man, I remember sitting across what seemed like a giant room watching a TV that seemed a mile away as man walked on the moon. I’d been at the Cape at the ripe old age of 3 and watch what looked like a speck with a lighter flame leave the globe. When the first shuttle took off I was in high school and we got shuffled into the library to watch on the big TV on a cart. When I heard about the last launch on NPR this morning I was a mixture of sadness and happiness as I have felt the Shuttle really should be put out of service. I still remember the geek victory of the prototype being named “Enterprise.”
I was nine and home sick that day too. I remember my mom was sick too, taking a nap and I woke her to tell her the shuttle exploded. She said something like “oh no, that teacher was on it” and somehow at age nine, the fact that a teacher had died seemed even worse.
It didn’t stop me from applying for the Canadian space program in 2008 – only the 3rd recruitment program in Canada and the first time I would be eligible. The application process was long and I knew my chances were slim (they were only choosing 2 people) so I wasn’t devastated that I didn’t make it. But for one summer I got to dream that I might just get to be an astronaut.
I remember watching in class when the Challenger disaster happened. I will never forget the deafening cone of silence which occurred as we all watched in disbelief.
I watched today’s launch on NASA tv as well. I got all teary and a lump formed in my throat per usual. I try and always watch them. If they happen in the wee hours of the morning, I either stay up or set my alarm to get up. In the last couple of years, I think I missed only 1 as I was the special guest at a gaming con.
My youngest is home sick from school today, so I made him watch it with me. He doesn’t find it nearly as cool as I did at his age and continue to find cool. I feel a little sad that my children will not grow up with this being one of those things that mark a generation. My parents generation had the Apollo program. We had the shuttle program. Maybe the private space industry will come through so the next generation has something cool and spacey to lose their breath over.
I grew up in Orlando, so I have a ton of great memories of watching shuttle launches from my back yard, and having the crap scared out of me on early morning re-entries (those sonic booms are loud!). For night launches, my parents would put my sister and I in the car in our PJs, and take us down to my grandparents’ place (they were only a few miles from KSC). Those night launches were so bright that it looked like day light for a few moments.
I am so sad the space shuttle program is ending.
We were gathered in the school cafeteria watching on tvs scattered through to entire room. As others mentioned, the pure horror of watching the tragedy live was something none of us would ever forget. I recall everyone being sent back to their homerooms and the rest is a blur.
As a consequence the local paper, for the first time ever, ran a color front page. A week or two later, helped along by a classmates father who was employed by the paper, someone from the paper came to our class. They talked to us about that day and explained how the print press responded to the tragedy.
It was interesting to see all of the angles involved with a Stop the Presses event. We used the events that January as a great learning experience. But like you, Wil, I still tense at every launch. Some of them…I haven’t been able to watch. And each time I see or hear a successful launch I rejoice.
Man, how many of us were home sick that day? I was as well. I remember I was bundled up on the couch watching the game show Scrabble with my mom. They interrupted and we were momentarilly annoyed that we wouldn’t know the answer to the puzzle. Boy did that feeling change quickly. I still think it’s odd that I remember the moments leading up to finding out about it better than the time spent glued to the TV with jaw hanging open shortly thereafter.
I didn’t watch the launch today because I was busy with work, unfortunately. Whenever I do though, I also can’t help but hold my breath.
I remember getting up erly to watch the launch. What struck me was the silence immediately after the explosion. No one knew what had happened. Not the NASA feed, not the networks. It would be a few seconds before anyone truly reacted.
And then, it sunk in. I had watched these brave souls give their lives for science in a very public, visceral way. And from then on, as with everyone else here, the phrase “Go with throttle up” sends a shiver down my spine.
I sincerely hope this is only a transition to a new, more bold project and aspiration to extend our reach beyond our earthly bonds.
I was alone at home, sick as well. It was one of the coldest days here in South Carolina that I can remember. I was watching CNN as they prepared for the launch, back when they actually took more than a couple minutes out of their schedule to show a launch. As my Mom left for work she said “I hope they don’t launch it today, I have a bad feeling.” I’d watched enough launches that I knew something was wrong a couple of seconds before she blew as her attitude changed slightly as the SRB burned through. I can remember calling Mom at work soon after, just saying “it blew up!”. Challenger is the only shuttle I’ve ever seen launch in person, back in ’83 when Sally Ride went up for the first time. I was in Orlando at my Grandfather’s house and even 40+ miles away it was like being at a rock concert. You could feel the sound literally vibrate your internal organs. When Challenger blew my Grandfather thought that the house had come off the foundation it was so loud.
I’ve got mixed feelings about the end of the program. The shuttle is an incredible machine, but it was designed more than 30 years ago. It infuriates me how our government over the past quarter century has jerked us all around when it comes to the space program, announcing all sorts of new projects and goals, then short-changing them to the point of starvation, so no wonder we’re in the mess we’re in now. BTW, NASA newser on now is talking about another Atlantis launch next year as an add-on mission.
I was slightly too young to have distinct memories of Challenger, but I feel like that was one of the last moments an entire generation appreciated the awe and power of a manned spaceflight. I can’t articulate why, but as Atlantis glided into orbit today, there was something about the phrase, “Welcome back to space” that made me tear up a little and just for a moment reignited my childhood desire to be an astronaut. There are many people today who argue against “wasting” our resources on space exploration, and though I appreciate many of their arguments and this sounds like a total cliché I feel like a tiny part of me would die if we were to cease striving towards the stars (or planets, as the local case may be).
I was also home that day, but it was for a teacher workday or something. We only had cable for a few months and one of the channels we had was the NASA channel. So I ditched regular network coverage (which was almost nonexistant) and opted to hear all the ground chatter between Mission Control, Houston, and the Challenger.
I watched it lift off, “go with throttle-up”, and then explode.
My heart was in my mouth. Like you, Wil, i was glued to the TV for the next several hours watching the coverage. I was saddened and angry and grieving. Even though I didn’t know any of those astronauts, I grieved like they were my friends.
And then the phone rang. I decided I needed a break from this emotional onslaught and walked into the kitchen to answer it. Probably Mom, I thought.
It wasn’t Mom. It was Busch Gardens Williamsburg, calling to offer me my first professional acting job. For the second time that day, my heart leapt into my mouth.
That was the day I truly understood that life does go on.
I am just barely old enough to remember Challenger, but I saw it anyway because they interrupted Sesame Street with news of the shuttle disaster.
My parents say the next day I read the newspaper for the first time after seeing the picture of the shuttle on the front page.
I haven’t watched a shuttle launch in years; today I had NASA TV streaming on my laptop until the last camera fell away.
I was too young to remember that one, 5 at the time. I do remember where I was and what I was doing when Columbia blew up on re-entry. That was a shock to me. For me the take-offs are still the easy bit (though my heart is in my mouth at ignition willing that ship to rise, as if willpower alone is necessary), it’s the landing that makes me twitchy now.
It pisses me off no end that in both cases it was bad management that destroyed the hard work of the engineers at ground control.
Hey Wil. I think this is an interesting concept that your post reminded me of:
Our parent’s first memory of space travel was probably the first landing on the moon, an obviously celebratory event.
For a lot of our generation, the first memory is the crashing of the Challenger.
Think about the different ways those generations first experienced space travel. I wonder if that will have any lasting effect on our nation and space exploration in the future.
I remember that day. I was sitting in front of the TV and they broke in and gave the news. I could hardly catch my breath. Something about a Space Shuttle tragedy seems so much more epic. I was also in the pathway of the Space Shuttle that blew up trying to land. Thankfully I was asleep and didn’t hear the sonic boom. I’m glad I don’t have that memory. I slept much later than I usually do that day and I’m glad I did.
I was a senior in high school. While sitting in Physiology and Anatomy class (the head football coach was the teacher), another coach came in and told us the shuttle had exploded. I thought of my little brother whose teacher had been one of the finalists for that shuttle mission. They were all sitting and watching the launch via tv. He was 9 at the time and was very emotional about it for years.
I have the same feeling you recall when you hear those words “go with throttle up.”
I remember I was at the hospital for a doctors appointment. I saw it on the waiting room TV.
My husband on the other hand was at the airport in Florida with his parents after visiting Disney World. They rescheduled their flight so they could view the launch in person and my father-in-law photographed the whole thing. It was a VERY quiet flight home after that.
Challenger: I was taking my English final in high school when an announcement came over the speakers. I (being the geek I am) quickly finished up and made a bee line to the computer science lab which had a tv with cable. We spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what had happened.
Columbia: The night before I had set the alarm because the flight path brought her over the Bay Area and I was going to take the kids out with the telescope and see if we could spot it. Woke up and it was cloudy so turned on the TV to watch…
Today as I was driving into work they interrupted KCBS radio (sister station to KNX 1070 – I so miss the old nightly old-time radio shows) to do the launch live. Here I am screaming “GO Baby GO!” at lift off .. and holding my breath while waiting for that final throttle-up followed with another “Yeah Baby! Go!”. Whoever looked over at me must have thought I was weird.
I was too young to remember the Challenger accident first hand. For my sixth grade science project (1993), though, I wrote about Challenger. I spent hours on microfiche machines, reading articles about the launch and the investigation. My mom even gave me a commemorative magazine she’d bought at the time and patiently tried to explain what o-rings were to an eleven year old who was too traumatized by reading about body parts washing ashore to really understand the science behind the explosion. Challenger made NASA and the space program real to me in a way that all the Apollo missions hadn’t at the time. “This was important enough,” I thought, “that people died and gave their lives for it. And I remember 1986. This happened while I’ve been alive. A teacher died. That has to mean something. That has to be important.”
It was later that year that, in middle school, I took a chance on Star Trek and other science fiction novels. Challenger sparked my lifelong interest in science, space, NASA, and science fiction. I decided then I wanted to be an astronaut and was going to be on the first mission to land on Mars. I ultimately did not follow that path, but shuttle launches will always represent the magic of space exploration to me (though I know that the shuttle program is ready to be retired). It represents the awesomeness of hurtling ourselves beyond our planet to explore something so much bigger than us. I still hold my breath during shuttle launches/returns.
Excuse me, I have something in my eye.
I was in kindergarten in Central Florida. Since it was the first teacher to go to space our class (among many others) went to the playground to see the shuttle takeoff. We could see the shuttle and the SRB exhaust from our vantage. Then there was simply too much smoke and then the explosion. Its pretty much my only memory from kindergarten. Being that close to the space coast helped inspire me to pursue Aerospace Engineering as a major; unfortunately since I am the breadwinner I had to go to commercial aviation. Just not enough stable paychecks in the space industry 🙁
I was in third grade when it happened. My little Catholic grade school didn’t have TVs for all of us to watch the launch, so my memory is of Sr. Carol Ann coming over the loudspeaker to tell us what had happened.
Many years later, looking through yearbooks from that grade school, I was struck by how many kids listed ‘astronaut’ in the ‘what I want to be when I grow up’ category. Not something you get a lot of now.
Also many years letter, I was cleaning out an old dresser and found a copy of ‘Weekly Reader’ from, I believe, late ’85. It featured a profile of Christa McAuliff. I have no idea how or why it was saved, since I don’t have any other old editions of the magazine. Yet somehow it survived, in pristine condition.
Great post Wil. However, what does FSMspeed mean?
How very strange – I was home sick watching it that day, too. I still remember lying on the floor in front of the TV in my grey sweatpants as the news played that clip over and over.
What would you like to see NASA do with its space budget in alternative to the shuttle program?
I just had a lot of stuff in my eyes there. To the stars, to the stars!
The particular launch you mentioned here is etched into the memories of those of us who were in grade school at the time. Each of us had teachers, and there was a teacher on that mission. I remember feeling like space was *that much* closer because a teacher—just like one of mine—could be going into space. The PR campaign made spaceflight seem less than a massively complex and nearly impossible undertaking.
Then physics kicked in and snapped us all back to reality in the most devastating way. I, too, get a chill when “go at throttle-up” goes over the radio. It’s the moment in the process that reminds me that what I’m witnessing really is an amazing achievement, rather than an achievement of special effects.
My father worked on the External Tank project in New Orleans at the time. That failed mission ended up transferring him (and thus my family) to Orlando. I moved as a result of a shuttle launch and came to a place where they can literally be seen from everyone’s front yard. My friends in school all have memories that include “I was standing in the playground, watching it like we always did…” Amazing how many people have tales of being personally affected by a single poor decision.
Like Wil said, I agree that it’s depressing to think of the difference in popularity of successful vs. unsuccessful missions. We’ve become so good at what we do that we fail to recognize just how difficult it is. The make-believe comfort with space travel and its complexity that Wil lived (and that I liked vicariously through his character) adds to my appreciation but distances me from the danger. It’s unfortunate, but such impressive technological advances come with risk, and for all the progress we make, we will continue to have similar disastrous events.
Remembering those incidents helps us value the successes and admire the achievements. That breath we take at throttle-up is our brain reminding us that what we are witnessing is very real, very dangerous, and very, very incredible. The silence and the chills are respect and admiration. While I hope we avoid future disasters, I hope we never loose the awareness of just what we’re achieving.
Everyone is saying the same things. Let me tell you my story.
I was watching the shuttle live. I was in the 6th grade, and it was my history class. That school was awesome – we often got to watch important things live on TV. They had the local channels. It was right before our lunchtime in St. Louis. My teacher was an excited as us kids, because there was a teacher on board.
We were watching live, as the Challenger came apart in a huge plume of smoke that left us all stunned. The teacher jumped up from her desk at the side of the room. It was like slow motion as she tried to get to the TV. I remember the announcer’s stunned voice saying “There’s been some kind of explosion,” right before she pushed in the knob that turned off the old-style TV.
We all went to lunch in a daze. Not everyone in every class had been watching live, but the rumors hit the lunch room like wildfire.
I had advanced reading right after lunch. The school princpal came over the intercom to the whole school to confirm the disaster. I don’t think they wouldv’e done it, except some of us had seen it and the rumors were flying. They pretended there might be some survivors, but most of us knew that wasn’t going to be the case.
I cried through that reading class. I have no memory of any classroom but those two and my music class at that school. I was only there for a year. I don’t remember my teachers’ names. I will always remember those two classrooms, the one darkened and the other light, one stunned and the other saddened.
I agree with Katrina… you get a little something in your eye and a lump in your throat, watching the weather and waiting for them to land safely. I remember a few years back, heading in for rotator cuff surgery and needing desperately to know that the astronauts were home safe before I went in. Knowing what we can do in space bolstered my faith in the abilities of my surgeon and amazingly, I recovered my Ace serve! I even have the video, although much like actually being there, it’s a real sleeper. 😉
Congratulations, Atlantis!!
I was in High School, in NH, in my computer class. An exchange student from Spain, who was well known as a prankster, ran into our class and said “The space shuttle exploded!” and ran off to the next classroom. None of us believed him. My teacher left for the teacher’s lounge to find out if it was true, and when he came back to class, he had teared up and we all knew it was true. He knew her because NH is a small state and they always had conferences over the summer.
When they announced that the program was ending, I made sure to get a trip in to see a live launch, and so my husband and I went a few years ago. It was a mess when the flight was rescheduled twice and we were flying in from CA and then couldn’t get a hotel, but I’m so glad I went just to experience that collective breath-holding moment with so many other people, and then the cheering when everything is fine.
Nothing else like it.