Ed Onizuka

When I was fourteen years old I was determined to be an astronaut. At first it was a dream fueled equally by Star Wars and a desire to be very far from home when I grew up.

But then I met Ed Onizuka, a real-life NASA astronaut, engineer, and Air Force pilot. He spoke to students at a local school, signed some photos, shook some hands, and did a couple events in town. I made my mother drive me and a friend to each point on Mr. Onizuka's itinerary. He brought unearthly items with him—heat protection tiles from the space shuttle, the fishbowl inner helmet from a space suit—and spoke of his work with a quiet enthusiasm which was absolutely riveting. At his third event for the day, he recognized me as I came to the head of the line to shake his hand once again. I immediately started to blurt a much-considered technical question, wanting desperately to impress this astronaut, but he smiled and held up his hand to stop me. "Tell you what," he said, pushing his pen across the table to me. "This time, you write down your name and address, and we'll get all your questions answered."

A few weeks later, a large packet of material about the space shuttle program arrived, with a brief note from Mr. Onizuka. "This should help get you started." I devoured everything, covered my walls with pictures and technical diagrams of the space shuttle, and filled out every reply card for more information. A few months later, Mr. Onizuka flew in the space shuttle Discovery—it was a Department of Defense mission, but I tried to follow every detail. I redoubled my efforts in math and science classes, and, the next summer, I wrote Mr. Onizuka care of NASA, thanking him and asking a myriad of questions about zero-G and astronaut training. Within a few weeks I received another reply, answering each question, and including a uniform patch for STS-51L, his next shuttle flight.

That January, Mr. Onizuka died in the Challenger explosion. Yes, I remember exactly where I was when I first heard of the disaster.

I did not become an astronaut, but I still follow the details of shuttle flights, and I regularly abuse the privilege of knowing a few people who work for NASA and JPL by peppering them with questions. I've been known to watch NASA TV for hours while an orbiter is in flight.

This morning, waking to television images of contrails racing across a clear Texas sky, all I can think about is the friends and families of the crew of the space shuttle Columbia. And Mr. Onizuka.

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