caerula's Diaryland Diary

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all kinds of tragedy

I'm not immune to the tragedy of this weekend. I'm not. I watched television until I couldn't bear seeing the same smoke trail over and over, waiting for the second and third trail to appear. I flashed back to that morning 17 years ago when I was home from school, sick, and saw it happen live, and felt like I'd gone back in time. I thought about what we take for granted and how it was kind of sad that I hadn't really given much thought at all to the fact that there was a shuttle mission last month. I reassured YMB that no one had shot the shuttle out of the sky, that there was an accident, and it was very sad, but it wasn't because of a bomb or missile � and reflected that it was perhaps even more tragic that when I was twelve and saw a shuttle fall out of the sky, the idea of bombs and missiles never occurred to me, yet it was the first thing on YMB's mind.

At the same time, I'm not twelve now, and I've seen so much more tragedy in the world than anyone ever could have predicted in 1986. And so, somehow, tragic as the story of Columbia is, it's no more tragic to me than the stories of people around the world who die every day, going about their daily lives with no hint of danger. And I can't dwell on it, despite what network television wants, any more than I can dwell on all the others, or else I wouldn't be able to function. We have to go on and pretend we don't know that the axe could fall on us at any moment.

Not to mention which, the space program, I know, is vital. But right now I'm more concerned about YMB growing up under the threat of a stupid, pointless, never-ending war. Those astronauts made the choice to face danger for the good of humanity, and for that I salute them. But I want YMB to have that choice, and not be drafted into it.

11:51 a.m. - February 04, 2003

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