Seven Who Flew for All of Us

By Paul Gray

They would not have seemed out of place at a supermarket check-out counter or standing in line to see a movie. They could have come together by chance just about anywhere in the U.S. Nothing odd here, in this assemblage of sexes and ethnic strains and religions, except maybe the extraordinary American experiment in equality inching forward, for the nation and the world to see, and being taken largely for granted.

Christa McAuliffe, the schoolteacher, received most of the attention, and it is easy to see why. She was articulate and photogenic, a reminder to everyone of what classroom experiences were or should have been. Her presence made this shuttle flight different from the 24 that had gone before. She would be our representative in space, carrying the proxy for those of us who cannot go because we are too old or too young or too timid, or too busy holding down jobs, raising families and worrying about the mortgage. She called herself an "ordinary person," and that is how many fellow citizens, stirred and flattered by what she was attempting on their behalf, came to think of her.

No one chosen from among more than 11,000 applicants to make history is entirely ordinary. Nobody aboard Challenger was ordinary. But the other six crew members were our representatives too. Like the teacher, their new colleague, they were citizens pursuing careers. Their jobs involved bigger risks and greater sacrifices than many others. But when they went home they found spouses and children, friends, phone calls to return, the ups and downs of daily living. When they wanted to relax, they played the saxophone or the piano, they painted oil pictures or jogged.

They were, all of them, human like us. Their courage and ambition took root in the familiar, sustained by circumstances and routines that everyone can recognize. On that last morning they were in preflight isolation but still a part of us. They got up and dressed, had breakfast and went to work.