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the

LONG SHADOWof the SPACE SHUTTLEBy Laura Ann Mullane

Iwalk into the apartment

parking lot on a sweltering

July aternoon in eastcentral Florida. There I see

a large bus with the NASA

logo on it. Im in Cape Canaveral

or a amily vacation that happens

to coincide with a space shuttle

launch. Lit-o is scheduled in a

ew days, and I know without asking

that the amilies o the astronauts

are staying at the apartment block

too, and that the bus will take theamily to watch the launch. The

thought o it makes my stomach

sink back against my spine and a

wave o nausea roll up to my throat.

Although it has been 20 years

since Ive been the one boarding

that bus to go watch the shuttle

erry my ather into space th

separate times, I might as we

teenager again. All o a suddeeel the atigue rom the slee

nights and early mornings. I

eel my dry throat and the ne

that tangled my stomach. Al

sudden, it is once again my a

who will ride a plume o smo

re into outer space.

STORIES

Growing up as an astronauts daughter


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When I was seven years old, my

ather, Mike Mullane, was selected

to be an astronaut. It was 1978and NASA had just announced

the beginning o a new space

programme: the space shuttle

a reusable orbiter that would

be used to launch satellites and

conduct research and, ultimately,

help construct and supply the

International Space Station. They

needed astronauts and put out the

call or applicants. My ather, who

was 33, had spent his career in the

US Air Force ying in the backseat

o ghter jets.

He had dreamt o ying in space

since he saw the dot o light that was

the bus with my mother, brother

and sister, joining the other

amilies. As we drove, the June skyturned pink and the marshlands

that lined the road tried to shrug

o the thick haze that had settled

on them overnight.

The roads were lined with the

parked cars and beach chairs o

spectators who had camped outovernight to witness the launch.

Many cheered as we passed.

American ags ew rom car

antennas. Our bus bypassed the

trafc and was waved through

security checkpoints. All o it

made me eel or a moment like a

celebrity. O course, I wasnt. No

one knew who I was. No one even

knew who my dad was.

Astronauts had long lost the

celebrity status they enjoyed

Its hard to describe the feeling of waiting to watch

a person you love about to blast-off into space.


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and up steps to the roo o the

building, rom which we would

watch the launch.

Nine minutes had never taken

so long. I stood with my arms

locked through my mothers,

who was practically shaking.

Its hard to describe the eeling o

waiting to watch a person you love

about to blast-o into space. First,theres the sheer, unadulterated

excitement o witnessing an event

that eels larger than lie itsel.

The shuttle, even rom three miles

away, loomed over everything,

dwarng the landscape around

it. Vapours swirled at its base.

On the roo, speakers amplied

the countdown, which echoed

between the buildings. You sensed

that something big was about to

happen, something that couldnt be

contained, that didnt subscribe to

the laws o the universe.

But in addition to the

excitement, theres a paralysing

ear. I wasnt ully aware o this at

the age o 13, when mortality was

still abstract and death seemed

like something that happened to

other people. I didnt worry that

my dad would be killed on the

shuttle mission, even though my

ather had told us repeatedly about

the dangers. Strapping onesel

to the equivalent o a bomb

and being catapulted to a placewith no atmosphere was a risky

proposition. Still, I didnt believe

that anything bad would happen

to him not on a conscious level.

But on a subconscious one, I was

terried. Its what had kept me

up the night beore the launch,

pulling me into the bathroom with


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dry heaves that brought tears to

my eyes. Its what made me now

hold onto my moms arm so tightly

that she had to say, Laura, honey,

youre hurting me. Its what made

me sometimes imagine a uture

without my ather, with whom I

would swim and hike and stare up

at the stars. My ather, who would

bring home owers or my momand chocolates or my brother,

sister and me. This was the man I

might lose orever.

The countdown continued. Less

than one minute to lit-o. Things

were happening quickly now. The

announcer ticked o the status o

systems and the passing seconds in

quick succession. Hes really going,

I thought. This is really happening.

The nal countdown: T minus 10,

nine, eight we have a go or main

engine start seven, six, ve we

have main engine start A slight

rumbling. Smoke billowed at the

bottom o the orbiter. Hes really

going. Hes really going.

But then, nothing. Four seconds

to lit o and the engines shut

down. We have a cut o, the

announcer said. We have an abort

by the onboard computers.

I looked at my mother and then at

the rest o the people on the roo

the other amilies and a handul o

NASA brass and other astronauts.

Everyone was staring in disbelie.

What happened? I asked my

mom. I dont know. A loud boom

rumbled across the distance. What

was it? An ex plosion?

No, the shuttle was still there. It

was just the sound rom the initial

main engine start nally reaching

us. My mom and sister broke

down crying. My brother strained

to hear what the announcer was

saying over the loudspeaker. I just

stood there at a complete loss o

what to make o everything that

was happening. The act was, I

didnt know. No one did. Even my

dad sitting in the cockpit didnt

know. The computers had sensed

a problem and shut down the

engines. It wasnt until later that

we learnt about the re on the

launch pad, how my ather and

the other astronauts had sat or a

ew terriying seconds while they

wondered whether their rocket

would explode. All I knew was that

I wouldnt see my atner y into

space that day. It would be two

more months and more sleepless

nights beore I would once again

stand on the roo with my amily

and squeeze my moms arm and

hold my breath until the I heard

the words, We have lit-o, boom

across the loudspeakers. I would

eel the ground shake and hear

the deaening roar that rattled

my chest, and I would watch

the shuttle rise past the tower

dragging its re behind it. The

shuttleDiscoverywould carry my

ather into space and bring him

home saely again just as Id

always expected.

I didnt know then that coming

home saely wasnt a oregone

conclusion. A year and a hal later

as my dad trained or another

mission the shuttle Challenger

would begin its ascent into space,

only to be ripped apart when it

exploded 73 seconds ater lit-o.

The shuttle carried amily r iends,

including Judy Resnik, who had

own with my ather on Discovery.

It also carried the athers o several

o my high school classmates, one

o whom was in my year. We had

mutual riends but I didnt know

her beyond that. Ater her athers

uneral and her return to school, I

would avert my eyes when I wouldpass her in the hallway. Every time

I would see her I was remi nded

that I got to go home ater school

and eat dinner with my dad. I was

reminded that my ather would see

me graduate rom high school and

college and eventually marry and

have children. Her ather never

would. How could we possibly live

in a world that was so unair?

Our athers took the exact same

risks, yet mine survived and

hers didnt. It was an unbearably

painul awakening or a 15-year-

old girl this realisation that

death is random and heartache is

delivered with no regard or logic.

It also came with the awareness

that my ather would risk death

again. He didnt quit the shuttle

programme ater Challenger. In

act, he would y again twice. I

never wanted him to quit, nor did

my mom or brother or sister. We all

knew ying was in his blood.

He could abandon his desire to

y no more than a racehorse could

abandon its desire to run. It was the

essence o who he was. Yet each

time, I stood on that roo wondering

i Id see my ather again.

Today, my ather is 65 and an

accomplished author. He no longer

ies, instead sating his ambition by

climbing mountains. He oten says

he would never believe he ew in

space i he didnt have the pictures

to prove it the memories seem so

distant and impossible. I know how

he eels. I, too, look back on those

years in disbelie.

My dad joined NASA when I was

seven and let when I was 19 ater

his third shuttle mission. Virtually

every one o my ormative

years was spent in the

shadow o the space shuttle. Yet

when people ask me what it was

like to grow up as t he daughter o

an astronaut, I never know what

to say. It was both amazing and

terriying. But mostly, it was just

my childhood. It was the only

reality I knew.

As I near 40, Im just beginning

to understand how my dads career

shaped me. Its only now that Ive

realised how rare that singular

ocus is in most people. I was

raised by a man who knew rom

an early age what he wanted to

be and was able to become that.

That is what makes my upbringing

unique: not the act that my ather

ew into space, but that he was

able to achieve his dream.

I wonder now what paths my

childrens lives will take. Will

they have the same a mbition that

dened my ather? I dont know.

But I do know whatever they do,

they can look up to the stars and

know nothing is out o reach.

He could abandon his desire to fy no more than a

racehorse could abandon its desire to run.

Laura Ann Mullane is a writer who lives

in northern New Mexico. She is co-author

of God Sleeps in Rwanda: A Journey of

,Transformation. Her father, Mike Mullane

.is author of the memoir Riding Rockets

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