Seven Astronauts

Tomorrow marks the 20th anniversary of the horrible disaster in the skies over Texas, when seven lives were lost in the Space Shuttle Columbia while re-entering our atmosphere.

I wrote this poem February 2, 2003, the day after it exploded almost exactly 17 years after the tragedy with the Space Shuttle Challenger. I still remember where I was when I watched the Challenger explode on January 28, 1986. Both explosions were deeply traumatic, and both included members who made history, not just in the explosions, but in breaking glass ceilings and paving the way for astronauts, explorers and scientists in the future.

Space Shuttle Columbia tribute poster
Graphic design credit: NASA/Amy Lombardo.
NASA publication number: SP-2010-08-163-KSC

Seven children once gazed up at the stars
And wondered what it was like up there.
Over Israel, India and the United States,
The skies looked down on them
Seeming to call to them

Seven children grew up
Dreaming of what they would do
They became pilots, doctors, scientists, colonels

They watched in horror
As the Challenger blew up
Shortly after takeoff
Not knowing that they would one day
Suffer a similar fate

Seven men and women were accepted by NASA
To explore the heavens
To conduct scientific experiments

Seven families and three nations
Watched in awe as the spaceship lifted off
They dreamed of their fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters
Up there in the skies
Houston got reports of their findings
Scientific knowledge advanced
Until the communication stopped

Seven families waited at Cape Canaveral’s landing strip
Eagerly awaiting their loved ones’ return
They did not expect their joy to turn to tears
They did not expect to hear news of the Columbia
Exploding over Texas
Scattering all over the largest continental state in the US

Seven men and women were lost that day
Seven families learned that their loved ones
Would not be returning
Seven families suffered the same pain
As seven other families
Seventeen years earlier
Three nations lost their sons and daughters
The first Israeli and the first Indian in space

Lost.

Why did this happen?
How?
Praise the Lord
He can do wondrous things
He can work through tragedies
Who knows?
Perhaps this was the tragedy
That will cause many lost souls
To consider where they will go
Maybe people will be saved for eternity
Because God used an exploded space shuttle
And seven lost lives
To bring them to Him

May God have all the glory!

The crew of the Columbia
David Brown, Rick Husband, Laurel Clark,
Kalpana Chawla, Michael Anderson,
William McCool, Ilan Ramon
Photo by NASA

Disaster in the Skies

January 29, 1986 in the Philippines, January 28 in Florida. I was in second grade at the time, and my mom taught kindergarten at our school in the Philippines. I usually hung out in her classroom before and after school. The launch of the Challenger on its tenth mission had been at 12:38 AM Philippine time (11:38 AM the the day before, EST). I believe it was before school that we were to watch the historic launch. My mom said, "Let's go see the spaceship!" I was excited because spaceships and astronomy have always fascinated me. At the time, the entire elementary shared an Audiovisual (A/V) Room, where classes went when lessons involved movies. (I remember watching Back to the Future at a sleepover in that room in 4th grade, two years later.) We ran from her classroom to the A/V Room, where teachers were gathered to watch the launch at Cape Canaveral. Excitement turned to horror as we watched this projected on the big screen:

Photo by NASA, Kennedy Space Center

Christa McAuliffe was the first teacher and the first private citizen to join a space mission, as part of the first Teacher in Space Project, and it was a huge deal. As I was in second grade, I don't remember a lot about the aftermath, but I do remember running to the Audiovisual Room, and standing in horror as we watched the unthinkable disaster unfold. It is a moment I will never forget.

It's hard to believe this year marks the 37th anniversary of that awful disaster.

The final crew of the Challenger
Ellison Onizuka, Christa McAuliffe, Greg Jarvis, Judy Resnik
Michael Smith, Dick Scobee, Ron McNair
Photo by NASA

NASA Orbiter tribute poster for the Challenger
Graphic design credit: NASA/Lynda Brammer.
NASA publication number: SP-2010-08-162-KSC

Jingle Bells

Dashing down the beach
'Cause the sand's hot underfoot
Must get to the sea
Without stepping on jellyfish.

I just made that up...but it's a more accurate picture of my childhood than the words to "Jingle Bells." :-) Living in the tropics, the sun would beat down on the beach, heating up the sand, which was not the most comfortable feeling ever for bare feet. When we visited Thailand in 1990, we also had the added benefit of avoiding the blobs of goo on the beach that were dead jellyfish, washed up on the sand. They can still sting even after they're dead. The Philippines has amazing shells on their beaches, and I loved collecting them. I also bought some polished ones in the souvenir shops.

Anyway, I'm guessing that isn't a typical way of starting a blog about a song that is all about an adventure in the snow. Some people have fond memories of playing in the snow when they were little. So do I, but most of my childhood was spent in countries that don't get snow. (The closest we got, I'm told, was one year when it got so cold in Hong Kong that there was frost on one of the mountain peaks. People came from all around to see the "snow.")

On the rare occasions when we were in the US, I loved the snow and everything about it. Well, almost everything. Since my legs were short at the time, snowshoeing was a bit of a chore, but aside from that... We built snowmen, made snow angels, and more. I don't remember ever riding in a sleigh, though. I have always loved snow, and still do to this day (although I have a healthy respect for driving in it). I think it was especially fun because it was so rare for me, and was thus a special treat. Not only because we lived in the Philippines, but because when we did come back to the US, we were in western Washington. This area doesn't get a whole lot of snow, except in the mountains, so when it does snow in the lowlands, the kids rejoice and the news media freaks out.

James Lord Pierpont (no relation to J. Pierrepont Finch), who wrote Jingle Bells in 1857, told the story of a (partially) delightful romp through the snow in a one horse open sleigh. He originally entitled his song "One Horse Open Sleigh," and he may have written it for Thanksgiving. (There are several conflicting reports regarding its origin, some of which are explained here.)

The first verse is by far the most well known:

Dashing through the snow
In a one horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go
Laughing all the way (Ha ha ha!)
Bells on bobtail ring
Making spirits bright
What fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight!

When I was little, I used to think that one line said, "Making spirits ride." That seems somewhat ghostly. Anyway, this sounds like a jolly old time. Apparently, a bobtail is a tail that is cut short, according to Dictionary.com. It must mean that the horse pulling the sleigh had a cut tail. I wonder what the ASPCA and PETA think of this song?

The second verse reminisces about the singer taking a sleighride with Miss Fanny Bright. The horse was lean and unfortunate, and they crashed into a snowbank and "got upsot" (which, according to Wikipedia, used to be a past participle of "upset," and means that the sleigh flipped). The author of this page did some research on who Miss Fanny Bright was. They found some Fanny (and Frances) Brights in old censuses, but didn't come up with a definitive answer. It's also possible that Pierpont made up the name.

The third verse gets worse. The singer now recalls going out in the snow and falling on his back. He was lying there helpless, when someone rode by in a one horse open sleigh, saw him, laughed, and continued past without helping. How rude!

The fourth and last verse gives advice on racing in a one horse open sleigh. You are supposed to do it while you're young, and take a girl along with you. "Get a bobtailed bay, two forty as his speed." The short tail must help the horse to go faster. A bay is a kind of horse. According to Wikipedia, "two forty" means that the horse needs to cover a mile in two minutes and 40 seconds (22.5 mph or 36.2 kph). If you do this, "crack! you'll take the lead." However, I'm not sure how trustworthy a guy is who just told us that he capsized a sleigh by crashing into a snowbank, and then went on to explain how he fell on his back and couldn't get up. Is he really in a place to give advice?

Apparently, the word "jingle" in the chorus is meant to be a command. Jingle bells aren't the kind of bells, but rather a command to the bells to jingle. In that case, maybe it should be called "Jingle, Bells!"

My favorite story related to Jingle Bells comes from here. Apparently, it was the first song to be played in space. In 1965, shortly before Christmas, and just before re-entering earth's atmosphere, Gemini 6 astronaut Thomas Stafford radioed into the Houston Mission Control with the news that "We have an object, looks like a satellite going from north to south, probably in polar orbit... Looks like he might be going to re-enter soon... You just might let me pick up that thing... I see a command module and eight smaller modules in front. The pilot of the command module is wearing a red suit."

I'll pause to let that sink in.

The message was followed by the sound of "Jingle Bells" played on the harmonica and sleigh bells, presumably played by the...um...pilot who was wearing a red suit (although it may or may not have actually been played by fellow mischievous astronaut Walter Schirra).

Mr. Elliot in Mission Control responded with, "You're too much."

Gotta love astronauts with a sense of humor.



My favorite arrangement (with alternate lyrics and a few surprises):