I was dead tired and missed it, but elainegrey saw it.
Bright pink-red glowing spark leaving a contrail across the entire sky -- and it was high enough up that it was above the foglets!"
She's deleted her comment, obviously in horror.
Mission control lost contact with the space shuttle Columbia today at 6am PST, just a few minutes after it passed overhead. It either broke up or exploded sometime upon reentry. It has crashed over Texas, and it is presumed that there are no survivors.
There is never a good time for tragedies, but I fear that this one might be particularly poorly timed. I have nothing to say about today, really. No great profound words. Just a hollow place where pain should be. My biggest concerns are whether this will lead to even further blind patriotism on the verge of a war, and whether the inevitable soul searching and introspection to follow over at NASA will effect my friends who work there. I feel selfish for not feeling more than that right now.
It's too hard to calculate this instant what it means to lose all the astronauts and another shuttle, and all the sorrow, pain, frustration, uncertainty, and doubt that will be left in its wake. I guess I just want peace, progress, and prosperity. I want to be able to feel *something more* when tragedies like this happen, rather than just adding them to a long list of yet another thing that has gone wrong. I want tragedy to be the exception, not the rule, so that when tragedy comes, it actually *means* something again. Perhaps those desires are selfish, but no matter what you may think of Clinton, that's what we got during his administration, more or less.
Maybe we all need to get used to the idea of tragedy being the exception rather than the rule. If it is, however, it's still our collective fault.