Feb, 4th, 2003. Today, I sat on my davenport and watched the memorial service for the Columbia astronauts. Today, more than any other time in my life, I found myself divided into three distinct parts. It was as though I was sitting, three of me, together there, watching the proceedings. Having been a aviator for more than four decades, I watched with technical questions coursing through my mind, and from an angle only a flyer can understand. I've flown as an airline pilot, a crop-duster, an instructor, and as a pilot for a sky-diving school for most of my adult life, and was a sky diver myself for many years. That perspective was very clear.
I watched as an American, already reeling from the events of 9-11, and felt the pain and determination to continue the space program that all true Americans feel...
Then, there was the human me. The Dad, and the grandpa'. The very sensitive and emotional person that I am... I saw the families... I saw the husbands and wives... and then I saw the children of the seven astronauts. No, not astronauts. I saw the children who had just lost Mom... who had just lost Dad... I saw that, and finally after several days of holding firm and keeping a "technical" point of view... and today I cried... Today, I finally cried... Dave
