Astronauts represent a spirit of nobility and bravery

I was born on Tuesday, April 14, 1981, at 1:40 in the afternoon.

The space shuttle Columbia… I was born on Tuesday, April 14, 1981, at 1:40 in the afternoon.

The space shuttle Columbia landed in Cape Canaveral, Fla., on Tuesday, April 14, 1981, at 1:40 in the afternoon.

Because you could say we “touched down” at the same time, I have always felt a certain kinship with the space shuttle Columbia. I love watching shuttle launches, and someday I hope to see a launch in person at Cape Canaveral. Until I was 11, I had a framed photo of the first space shuttle’s first landing hanging above my bed and a model of the Columbia on my shelf. My parents and I have always planned to visit the Columbia when it was retired from service and placed in the Smithsonian. They reminisce that it was a stormy, rainy afternoon in Chester, Pa., when I was born. The photograph of the Columbia shows, though, that it was brilliantly sunny and beautiful in Florida that day.

I was born on a day of triumph for the space program. But I remember vividly another day too, a day of terrible tragedy. The afternoon of Jan. 28, 1986, I walked home from nursery school with my Aunt Anna and sat down to lunch. Over alphabet soup, my aunt and I watched the space shuttle Challenger take to the sky and never return to Earth. Though I was only 4 years old, I knew something went wrong. Even now, when I hear the speech Ronald Reagan gave that evening, one of the most difficult of his presidency, it still brings tears to my eyes.

Reagan said in his 1986 address, “We’ve grown used to the idea of space, and perhaps we forget that we’ve only just begun.” For the people of Israel, Columbia payload specialist Ilan Ramon represented the excitement that had perhaps waned for Americans. The first Israeli in space and a decorated colonel and fighter pilot in the Israeli Air Force, Ramon had become a hero to millions of Israelis. Schoolchildren followed his training and progress and he sparked a novel debate among Jews about how one would celebrate Shabbat on the space shuttle when, in space, the sun rises and sets 17 times in one day.

In Tom Wolfe’s book “The Right Stuff,” he tells the stories of the Apollo 7 astronauts, all of whom were test and fighter pilots before they signed on to be the first American men to fly in space. The Apollo 7 astronauts were villified by their peers for signing up for what their critics said was tantamount to a suicide mission. But those seven astronauts proved that human space flight was indeed possible and in his book, Wolfe captures the excitement about and hope for the space program that Americans everywhere felt.

One of those Apollo 7 astronauts went on to become a senator from Ohio, and 30 years later, he flew in space again. As one of those initial space pioneers, former Senator John Glenn knew first hand about the dangers inherent in space flight. Yet in 1998, he chose to fly on the space shuttle Discovery to become, at 77, the oldest human ever in space.

Why would he put himself in danger – why would he risk his life again?

He chose to fly in space aboard Discovery – a far cry from the tiny vehicle he flew by himself in 1967 – because that is the destiny of the astronaut. That fraternity, those men and women who have known the experience of floating free in space, whose daring and bravery humble us all, represents the culmination of the dreams of millions of people around the world.

Astronauts, be they test pilots, scientists or school teachers, aspire to touch heaven – and return to tell us all about the experience. On Saturday morning, as Reagan said 17 years ago, six Americans and one Israeli “‘slipped the surly bonds of Earth’ to ‘touch the face of God.'”

E-mail Clare Perretta at clare@pittnews.com.