A long time ago, I did an internship at Johnson Space Center. I had a chance to meet astronauts and hang out with “rocket scientists.” I had a great time. This was post-Challenger. And it's so hard to describe the mood at the time. It sounds so cliche – "Everyone there is family." But it's true. And the relationship between the engineers and the astronauts is as complicated as the love and rivalry between siblings. I wince when I think of the scrutiny over the coming months to which the NASA engineers will be subject, even as they grieve. And I know in my heart that if there were any way to save Columbia's crew, they'd have broken their backs trying.

This one was composed in 1941 by a 19-year-old pilot as he flew over England. He was killed soon after while serving with the Royal Canadian Air force.

High Flight
By John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew –
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

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