When Ken and I got together and began decorating our first home, he had a print of the Challenger taking off. His ex hadn’t liked it; it reminded her of the tragedy. But he and I were of the same mind: That it reminded us of the majesty, of the amazing lengths technology had come, and of the great sacrifices so many people—not the least the crew of the Challenger—had made to reach the lofty goals. We hung it as an homage to those brave people.

What happened this morning was a tragedy, plain and simple. It’s a tragedy anytime someone dies in an accident before their time. I mourn for the families and friends of the Columbia crew just as I mourn for those left behind when anyone dies.

My father was in line to be an astronaut when the space program was first beginning. I believe he’d taken the various tests, but I don’t know all the details. What I do know is that, in the end, he made a decision. He looked at my mother, my sisters, and I (or perhaps I was just a gleam in his eye at that point), and he chose his family over that career path. Did he make the right decision? He did for himself. Those who soar into space made the right decision for themselves, too. All were brave.

My father for awhile was Werner von Braun’s personal pilot, and he knew Gus Grissom, and he flew the first two monkeys in space from where they landed to the lab where they were looked over afterwards. He played a part.

Go outside tonight and look up. Many brave, brave people play a part in bringing us all closer to soaring amongst the stars. In your own way, honour them all.