My mother and I were working together, training for the new job we'd both been hired to do, for Colonial Williamsburg. At the end of lunch, one of our new colleagues entered the room with the news that the Challenger had blown up. We figured he was joking (he had already developed a reputation for pranks and rather dark humor).
It wasn't a joke. It also wasn't a day easily to forget.
Still and all, were I fitter and, perhaps, younger today, I'd gladly clamber aboard the next ship going out there. They lived the dream, and died pursuing it.
May their souls have peace.