Today is the 19th anniversary of the destruction of the space shuttle Challenger, which exploded 73 seconds after lift-off, and plunged in shattered sadness into the Atlantic.

It’s hard to believe it’s been that long, and it makes me feel a little … old. But I remember where I was when I first began to hear about it. I was in the student union, in the bookstore specifically, on the campus of Cal State Chico, my alma-mater. I heard just scraps of conversation between other students, about something exploding, crashing. And it wasn’t until later, when I got back to the apartment I shared with my roommate Mark, that I learned what happened.

I also remember exactly where I was, 9 years later, when I got the call that Mark had died in San Jose. Two weeks after his 30th birthday.

Well, I hadn’t planned on Mark showing up when I started typing this post. He was a good guy, a good friend. He was working on his masters when he got sick, and would have been a fine historian and teacher. I miss him … well, really more than I miss the Challenger or anyone on it. Life isn’t fair, death less so.

So where were you when the Challenger went down, and what about your memories?