This morning, my clock radio sounded with NPR. Half sleeping/half waking, I heard of Paul Fussell discussing his new book on uniforms, which I want to read. I like his writing a lot. Then came the first report that NASA had lost communication with the space shuttle Columbia over Central Texas. Losing communication is apparently not extraordinary. But they didn't regain contact. Then came the reports that there was video footage of multiple vapor trails above Texas. It looks as though they're lost. May they rest in peace.

I am remembering the loss of Columbia in 1986. I was in college then, and I was able to cushion the impact with cynicism: "The only reason that we have manned space flights is because NASA feels that it's necessary for public relations. The Europeans do all the things that we're able to do without putting lives at risk with their Ariadne rockets. They're martyrs to the short-sitedness and ignorance of science of the American public." Or something. Then biographies of the members of the challenger crew were followed by analysis of what lead to the disaster, and soon there was Richard Feynman droppiing O-rings into ice water at the Congressional hearings and wrapping it all up for us.

In the wake of September 11th, I'm just calmly and quietly letting the tragedy sink in. No analysis necessary or wanted. Space missions are hazardous, and the astronauts understand this. And proceeding with full knowledge of the significant risks involved is called bravery.