Nothin fancy

Just some musings on where I was 20 years ago today, when "Teacher in Space" became such a horror for those kids who had gazed so hopfully at the sky that January morning in 1986. At the time of the explosion, I was a student between classes, having a little lunch in my 2 bedroom roach motel adjacent to the university. I turned my little 13-inch RCA ColorTrak on, which I still have to this day, a married man, the set now 22 years old, and saw the disaster unfold. And the sites and sounds of the gross anatomy lecture, the self-satisfied middle aged instructors, the smell of the cadavers, and the Bangles, singing, "Just another manic monday, uh, o-oo, I wish it was Sunday. Cause that's my fun day. My I don't wanna run day. Just another manic monday. Life sucked during the 6 months I took (and retook) gross anatomy. And of course the local tobacconist hocking "Oliver Twist" in his, oh-so-effeminate way. That's what the challenger explosion reminds me of. A time, during the cold winter of 1986, when I was 24 years old, that I would never want to relive.