Part of me is fascinated by space travel and the absolute heroes of NASA who have made it possible. This admiration exists despite my having absolutely no math or science skills of my own.

I happily mugged for the camera in front of the space shuttle Discovery in Washington DC a few years ago. I enjoyed touring the boyhood home of Ohio’s own John Glenn and devoured the book “Hidden Figures” about the brilliant women who calculated the math needed to get us to the moon for the first time.

And I sometimes stand outside my rural home late at night, gazing up at the stars and wondering what it would be like to be in space, to gaze down at this planet, and see how small we really are in this grand universe.

It’s all fascinating.

But I didn’t watch the launch of Artemis II on Wednesday.

I’m a young Gen X-er and suspect there are more than a few of us who passed on the opportunity to see history made.

That’s because I was eight years old when they wheeled televisions into classrooms across America for school kids to see Christa McAuliffe become the first teacher to go into space. It was a proud day for us all.

But it was confusing. What’s with all the smoke and fire? What did we just see? “Is it supposed to do that?” I heard a classmate ask just before a teacher swooped in to turn off the television.

Did this event traumatize me for life? I don’t think so. Still, it’s weeks like this when I think to myself “I’ll just catch the replay later.”