It is one of those dates.  For most of the country, there is November 22, 1963, and September 11, 2001. Where were you? What do you remember? And in the case of 9/11, did you know anyone in the Towers?

For those in the space community, there are three others: January 27, 1967, when Apollo 1 caught fire; January 28, 1986, when Challenger exploded upon takeoff; and February 1, 2003, when Columbia disintegrated upon re-entry over Texas.

I do not remember the first — I was too young.  I remember the second all too well, it made me take a hard look at whether I wanted to marry a man whose life’s ambition was to fly in one of those birds.  And the third…

I still remember getting out of bed — it was a Saturday, we had slept late — and having to go break the news to a stunned Rocket Scientist.  My first question to him was — was his astronaut friend on board?  No, he answered.  Then the follow up:  did he know anyone aboard? Yes, he knew one of them slightly.  In some ways, it didn’t matter: we mourned them all equally, including Ilan Ramon, the first Israeli astronaut.  It stunned and saddened us.

It seems like it was yesterday.  And yet, it seems like long ago and far away. The space program is a different things than it was back then.  The shuttles have all been mothballed, with nothing left to replace them.

We need to remember these men and women, who they were and what they did.  They did amazing work that was only recognized when they lay dead on the plains of Texas or in the water of the Atlantic. They are the best of us, the best of who we can be as a country, as a species.

We remember them.  We salute them.