We lost the space shuttle orbiter, Columbia, on Saturday morning. It is hard to capture all of the different emotions I'm experiencing over this. In many ways, it is just like the loss of the Challenger back in 1986. On another level, it is a reminder of the immensely complex precision required to launch people into orbit and bring them back safely. Reading the biographies of the astronauts reminds me of growing up as a child in the "Apollo" era when the astronauts seemed even larger than life than they do today. There is also a degree of national pride that this brings forward, especially since we are on the brink of a war to end the reign of a dictator and liberate the Iraqi people.

I cannot help but examine my own life when reading about the lives of the astronauts. These people dedicated their lives to the achievement of an ideal that most of us dismiss far too casually. The pursuit of knowledge coupled with the intense, all consuming desire to help mankind...this was the common thread of the astronauts. Doctors, pilots, engineers....the best of the best (Commander McCool was 2nd in his class at Annapolis.) They are not heroes because of the way they died, they lived heroic lives.

Thankfully, they haven't shown any celebrations from any of the more radical Arab countries. I take comfort knowing these people will never have the motivation or the drive to build a rocket, or a car, or a gun for that matter. Let them burn our flag; for that is about the only thing they can do well. They are enemies of freedom and of progress and they live to terrorize those who dare to dream. We send people to the moon, while they send their countries to the stone age. We build skyscrapers, while they scrape around in the dirt. Our schools bring dreams to life, while they imprison and suppress their dreamers.

We will mourn our heroes, then find out what went wrong and go on. Though tragedies are terrible, they always bring forth greater inspiration and energy to our dreams.