We all remember iOn, the day the NASA space shuttle Challenger, carrying a seven-member crew, exploded 73 seconds after liftoff. An unspeakable tragedy for the nation, for the world. And for me. My husband, Dick Scobee, was the commander at the controls, and for a long time I wasn\u2019t sure if I would ever be able to get that day out of my mind.<\/p>\n
Nine o\u2019clock, on the morning of the launch. I stood on the rooftop viewing area of the Kennedy Space Center in Merritt Island, Florida, with our son, Rich, daughter, Kathie, and her son, our first grandchild, Justin. I looked out at the cloudless sky and shivered; it was exceptionally cold for Florida. In the distance I saw the shuttle. Icicles hung from the launchpad. This would be Dick\u2019s second spaceflight. He was an experienced Air Force test pilot, had served in Vietnam and knew how to fly more than 45 types of aircraft, but I was worried. I was fixated on those icicles.<\/p>\n
I thought back to our last conversation, earlier that morning. The four of us were staying at an apartment Dick had rented for us. He was staying in crew quarters. It was still dark when he called. \u201cIt\u2019s freezing out there,\u201d I said. \u201cIs the launch still on?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019ve given us the go-ahead,\u201d he said. \u201cThe engineers knocked off icicles they thought might be a problem. They showed us pictures of the rockets blasting off in snow. It\u2019s safe, they said.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d I sighed, not completely convinced. \u201cI love you so much.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSee you in a week,\u201d Dick said.<\/p>\n