Risking, Reflecting and Remembering the Human Spirit

It’s that somber last week of January when the space community pauses to remember its most painful losses. Apollo 1, Challenger and Columbia. 

All of them were lost years apart but somehow by some act of cruel fate all occurred within days of one another. They are three separate events that three separate generations remember exactly when and where they were when they learned of the tragedies. 

As much as each of those tragedies reshaped America’s space program in profound engineering ways, it also left powerful cultural imprints as well. Whenever you look at any of the crew photos of those that were lost in 1967, 1986 and 2003, it is hard not to see yourself in those pictures. There are men and women; white, black and Asian; military and civilian; moms and dads; Christian, Jewish and Buddhist; there’s a teacher, a foreign visitor and so many other different quilted pieces of the American fabric all stitched together in these crews.   

I think the greatest power in each of those crew shots is the mirror image we see of ourselves. But there is something else that these photos capture that we often forget about and that is risk and pioneering. 

Unless you are one of those few fortunate American families that has an old painting of a long lost family member in colonial garb stashed in the attic because no one wants to put it up in their home, or have a crumbling old black and white 19th Century photo of family gathered at a homestead around a fire, we really have no idea of what those who pioneered our frontier looked like. 

Sure we have paintings and photos that we can see in museums or history books that give us an idea of what the pilgrims wore or how the homesteaders traveled and the challenges they all face. We even have great films and books that attempt to capture how hard those lives and conditions were but as powerful as all of these pieces of media may be, they miss a part of human connection that our present tools capture.

We can see the crew of Apollo 1 waving as they boarded the elevator to climb into the capsule for the plugs out test.

We can see the Challenger crew headed to the launch pad waving to us in their blue flights suits with huge smiles.

And the same holds true for the Columbia crew but this time wearing the orange pressure suits.

All of those images carry hope, energy and excitement.

And then moments later we can hear Gus Grissom complaining, “How are we going to get to the moon if we can't even communicate between three buildings?”

We can hear the communications between Launch Control and Challenger saying, “Go with throttle up…”

On a return flight home we can hear Mission Control in Houston radioing to Columbia for a “Comm check” and hear nothing but static.

Each of those captured moments crystalize the human emotions of frustration, shock and confusion. All human traits that everyone one of us has experienced.

And then there are the images of the charred Apollo capsule, the shattering of Challenger and the falling star of Columbia. Each of them powerful images of human loss, human heartbreak and human failure.

The blessing and curse of capturing these iconic moments is we can show future generations the whole swath of emotions that go with the human experience of exploration and discovery.

As hard as our historical records and creative efforts may try, we really don’t have that as clearly or emotionally captured by our pioneers before the advent of the camera. 

The photo, film and video image is both gift and curse. 

We can remember the warmth and inspiration of their smiles and the sadness and tears of the moments of their loss.

But in remembering these crews we know each one of them chose to do things that no one had done before. 

All of them knew there were risks involved – both known and unknown, but their spirits and the entire human spirit is bigger than risk and says, “Let’s see what we can do.”

Everyone one of these lost crews knew the honor of their role and mission. They knew it to be an honor to be an explorer, a risk taker and to do things that push limits. 

For me that is the power and allure of risk and it is part of the human experience. 

That’s what I remember, honor and celebrate this somber week in Winter. 

Optimism, like Spring yields new life, energy and perspective. And if you are a risk taker, explorer and adventurer like the crews of Apollo 1, Challenger and Columbia, the Springs yielded by their sacrifices enabled dusty moonwalking pioneers; millions of children and teachers around the world inspired by the space adventure; and a more enhanced risk and safety culture that has reshaped the human exploration of space.

That’s an incredible legacy left behind and to build upon.

And we’ve only just begun.

And so in the spirit of these eternal risk takers, I say, “Ad Astra.”