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Christa McAuliffe's Messenger

Yankee Plus Dec 2015


Christa McAuliffe’s Messenger
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Grace Corrigan

Photo/Art by Carl Tremblay

The last time most people saw Grace Corrigan, she was looking skyward, her husband Ed beside her, in the bitter cold of a Florida morning, January 28, 1986. When Space Shuttle Challenger roared off the launch pad with six astronauts and their daughter Christa McAuliffe–a Concord, New Hampshire, high-school teacher and the first private citizen selected to experience space flight–aboard, Grace Corrigan was gripped with fear and pride and hope. All of those emotions tumbled out on her face in the cold, her cheeks brushed by her white fur coat, as she strained to follow the rocket. Then Mission Control announced, “Go at throttle up”–and, a heartbeat later, the sky erupted.

No picture captured the anguish of that moment more than the image of Grace and Ed Corrigan, holding each other, searching those chaotic clouds of billowing white smoke against the achingly blue sky. She is crying and in shock, and still you see the will to keep something together, to not believe what she’s seeing, to not believe the words her husband chokes out: “She’s gone. … She’s really gone.”

And now I sit facing Grace Corrigan, with Christa’s official NASA portrait on the wall behind me. “It just doesn’t seem possible that it’s 25 years. But it is,” she says. We’re in the living room of the home where she and her husband raised five children, in a family neighborhood in Framingham, Massachusetts. It’s a late-summer morning, and through the picture windows her lawn bustles with birds and squirrels. I see a wall covered with photographs, so many it’s as though family albums have emptied onto the wall.

Here are Grace’s parents, who died when she was a small child; her grandparents, who raised her; her husband, Ed, who died in 1990; her children; her grandchildren and great-grandchildren; and, of course, her firstborn, Christa: Christa as a baby, as a child, in Girl Scouts, in high school, in college; Christa the young wife, the mother, the teacher; Christa in astronaut garb, the woman who swept a country off its feet.

And there’s a photo of Grace herself, giving a commencement speech at Framingham State College (now University), the school from which both mother and daughter had graduated. “The commencement speech Christa was supposed to give,” Grace says. I look at the photo and ask, “How do you do it?”


Photo/Art by Carl Tremblay

She is well into her 80s now, but her voice is rich and animated, her eyes sparkling. I tell her that in the days before this visit, I watched videos of the Challenger on the Internet, and each time I heard “Go at throttle up,” my heart raced, and soon I couldn’t watch it anymore. So I ask, “How do you keep looking at that day?” She’s done that hundreds of times, speaking to thousands of teachers and children, almost within weeks of the day her daughter disappeared from her sight; writing A Journal for Christa; answering reporters’ questions on anniversaries; answering reporters’ questions when the crew of Space Shuttle Columbia died in 2003 (“I’m not doing very well,” she said then); and when Barbara Morgan (Christa’s alternate for the Challenger voyage) completed her successful shuttle mission in 2007.

On this day, for example, she has just come home from Huntsville, Alabama, home of Space Camp, just down the road from where Christa spent part of her training. “I haven’t even unpacked,” she says.

She laughs lightly, and her laugh has the timbre of a delicate bell. She returns every year to Space Camp for the special week when “Teachers of the Year” from across the country and around the world converge to explore the mysteries of space travel. Her speech reminds everyone that her daughter was neither astronaut nor thrill seeker. “I tell them that Christa was a teacher,” she says. “That was the most important job for her. When she came back, she was going to go back to teaching. This was the thrill of a lifetime for her, but she felt it was going to focus on education and that it would get the kids excited.”

I tell her I find it remarkable that she can do this for all these years; I say I doubt I could. She laughs gently. “You know how I do it? I know Christa would say, ‘Hey, Ma, I’m not here. It’s a good message. What did I give my life for? You know, I should be there doing it. I’m not. You can do it.'”

Christa’s mother smiles. “I just feel she was doing so much good for those kids,” she says. “If I can help, just by carrying her message, that’s what she was striving for. If you remember at that time, teachers had a bum rap, and she was trying to make everyone know they were important.” She looks at me with an expression that says, It’s clear why I do this.

Please Note: This information was accurate at the time of publication. When planning a trip, please confirm details by directly contacting any company or establishment you intend to visit.

Mel Allen


Mel Allen


Mel is the fifth editor of Yankee Magazine since its beginning in 1935. His career at Yankee spans more than three decades, during which he has edited and written for every section of the magazine, including home, food, and travel. In his pursuit of stories, he has raced a sled dog team, crawled into the dens of black bears, fished with the legendary Ted Williams, picked potatoes in Aroostook County, and stood beneath a battleship before it was launched. Mel teaches magazine writing at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst and is author of A Coach’s Letter to His Son. His column, “Here in New England,” is a 2012 National City and Regional Magazine Awards Finalist for the category Column.

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One Response to Christa McAuliffe’s Messenger

  1. Patricia Taylor Kienzle October 23, 2015 at 12:56 pm #

    I am looking for a way to share the continuing legacy of Christa McAuliffe with her family. I was honored with the Arkansas Christa McAuliffe Fellowship in 1997. Work still continues in one of the poorest counties in our country as a result of that experience.

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