I was in the high school library playing chess. We had wanted to watch the lift-off, but the television wasn’t working. Some kid came in and told us, and after finally coming around to believing he wasn’t pulling our leg about the space shuttle blowing up, I asked him if it pulled into pieces, dove out of control, or just exploded in a huge fireball. “Fireball,” he said. I responded that it must have been the ET somehow managing to explode. It was not really a full-on “explosion,” but that’s sure what it looked like at first.
That afternoon, before going out on a run in the cold, cold Minnesota countryside, I cried during President Reagan’s speech.