Off we go, into the wild blue . . . . 2003-02-02 2:51 a.m.
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So, I thought thst the space shuttle explosion this morning would mean a lot to me, but in a way, it didn't. My parent's generation can all remember where they were when John F. Kennedy was shot. For my generation, the closest we have to that is when the shuttle Challenger exploded during lift off. I was in fourth grade at the time. Do you remember this happening? Did you hear all the horrible jokes that followed it? (How do you know the astronauts had dandruff?? Because they found their head and shoulders washed up on the beach, etc.) I remember where I was. I was at morning recess in the fourth grade. We came back from playing outside and our teacher, Mrs. Kennedy, said, "Children I have some terrible news. The space shuttle has exploded." It was 1986, at that time, the shuttle had only been around for four years, and each launch was still news-worthy. I can't remember how I reacted, other than general shock. My only other memory from the day was returning to my parents' house to find my sister had been home sick all day. She had used our new-fangled VHS recorder to tape the relevant news coverage of the day. I wonder if that tape is still floating around my mom's basement, unlabeled and destined to be fought over by some future incarnation of me and my sisters as we channel our grief and anger into the process of dividing up material possessions. Maybe it was taped over for a re-run of Cheers. Either way, it's lost to me know. Nevertheless, that event had meaning for me. And, if you ask enough other 20somethings, you might just be surprised at how many of them will say the same thing.
So, that being said, I'm a bit concerned with my reaction to the current tragedy. Is the "me" in 1986 and the "me" in 2003 that much different? Am I lost? Delusional? Realistic? I have no clue. But as someone who gained a little respect for that Backstreet Boy when he wanted to pay $10-million to go to space, I must say that I totally share that dream. I've always hoped that if I make it to 80+, I'll get the new liver to replace the one I drank away, AND get to go to space for a vacation. My paternal grandfather retired in Arizona. Fuck that. I'd prefer a TRUE desert, somewhere on the Sea of Tranquility.
Oh well. So it goes.
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