In a dream this morning, a boy spoke on the phone with his mother. "Mom! ... Mom! ... Mom!" he shouted, over and over. Apparently she was talking, not answering his pleas, not unlike the "exchange" between several children and their parents yesterday at the pool. "Mom! ... Mom! ... Mom! ..." the boy continued in my dream, and I heard him still as I slowly awoke, the sound of his voice repeating as I became aware again of these white sheets on top of me, the fan above me, the breeze outside beside me, through the open window. Then the cries of "Mom! ... Mom! ... Mom!" became cries of "Caw! ... Caw! ... Caw!" and it was no longer a boy but a bird outside the window. And as I became aware of this, all the other sounds of this Florida morning came to me � more chirps and whistles from the birds, the sound of cars intermittently passing on the road.

Columbia Blvd. leads you there and the first parking lot you see bears the same name. While questions remain and the investigation continues, work goes on at Kennedy Space Center and its Visitors Center. Columbia's legacy and that of its last seven astronauts appears around most every corner, particularly the first. Just inside the visitors entrance, past the metal detectors and bag inspection stations (where they as you to turn on all cameras and cell phones, unlike just about every airport I've been to since 9/11), a large board behind the information desk lists the four orbiters and their current status. Discovery and Endeavour are "in OPF," the Orbiter Processing Facility, the hangars where the orbiters are meticulously inspected and refurbished after returning from space. Atlantis is "in VAB," the Vehicle Assembly Building, that tall, white box of an edifice with the American flag painted on the side. That's where the orbiters are "mated" to the orange external fuel tanks and white solid rocket boosters and then wheeled out to the launch pads. At the top of the board, the space next to Columbia's name is blank. A lighted message board flashes "TO BE DETERMINED" next to "NEXT LAUNCH" while the signs along the road to the parking lots advertise STS-114, Atlantis' planned trip to the International Space Station to switch the crew.

The exhibits at the VC complex include a full-scale replica of the orbiter (with actual, authentic solid rocket boosters and a heavier but authentic model of the external tank) that includes components taken from real missions � like each of the tires beneath the replica. Also appearing authentic were the hundreds of heat-resistant tiles covering the underside of the ship and I looked at them � all numbered individually � thinking: "So you guys appear to be the problem." It was that kind of unspoken thought that hung over our day at KSC. The only official mention I can recall came from our bus driver on the second leg of the tour; he explained that Launch Complex 39A was the site of the last two launches and 39B will likely be the site of the next. As we rode back toward the center of the KSC and the giant VAB, I noticed tracks in the stone road where the Crawler transports the upright shuttle out to the launch complexes. The driver explains that one actual launch pad remains out at 39A from Columbia's Jan. 16 lift-off. I notice tracks in the stone path � the Crawlerway � where the shuttles are transported from the VAB to the launch complexes and I wonder if they're from the Crawler's trip out to 39A carrying Columbia to its final launch, or perhaps from the Crawler's return.

When I visited Johnson Space Center in Houston five years ago, some people on the tour discussed where they were when Challenger happened. At KSC, I tried to picture a launch or landing, like the one everyone expected two weeks ago. Somewhere inside the immense VAB, Atlantis stands attached to its fuel tank and rockets, ready for its next mission. If it were still on schedule for its March 1 launch, we would've seen it out on a launch pad already, since shuttles are usually transported out there about a month ahead of launch.

From there we were bused over to the Saturn V center, a newer building inside of which lies one of the Saturn V rockets built for the Apollo program. The moon missions were stopped abruptly after Apollo 17 because of budget cuts, but three assembled Saturn Vs remain � I saw one at JSC in Houston and another's in Alabama, at another NASA facility. The center � a large viewing hangar similar to those in science museums like the Smithsonian's Air and Space and Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry � was built around a smaller building inside of which is the launch control center used during the Apollo days. An audio/video program relives the day of the launch of Apollo 7, the first manned launch after the launch pad fire that claimed the lives of Ed White, Roger Chaffee and Virgil Grissom as they ran tests on Apollo 1. It was a moving presentation.

Out on the display floor, where the giant Saturn V rocket lies on its side, propped up above the floor so that you can walk beneath it, there are other exhibits, including a moon rock. "Touch the Moon!" the display advertises. "Touch the Moon?" I ask. "More like Touch the Oils From Millions of People Who Have Already Touched It."

Looking at the model Lunar Rover the astronauts used for practice on Earth, I mention that they left it behind after crusing around the surface. "There's a lot of crap on the Moon," Casey said. "And are we ever going back to get it? Noooooo ..."

Following the show and a brief walk through the center, Casey and I boarded a bus back to the Visitors Center. On the way, the driver pointed out the eagles nest in one of the trees along the road and I spotted more alligators and armadillos, both of which we first saw on an earlier leg of the tour when the bus driver pointed them out. Armadillos are like metal groundhogs or bunnies, quite easily spotted in pastures along the roads. They're cute.

After dinner � and the news, which the GPs watch religiously, sometimes three or four times a night � and once the 7 p.m. syndicated rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond and 7:30 showing of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? (also faves of AJ and Angie), Grandpa asked what we wanted to watch. "Well," Casey said, "we were thinking of going into the other room to watch the finale of one of our shows, Joe Millionaire."

"No, it's OK!" Grandpa said. "You can watch it here. He was on The View this morning." Apparently, if it shows up on one of Grandpa's shows, it can't be all that bad.

So we watched the final two hours of Evan's vapidity (is that a word? It is now) and his selection of the safe choice, Zora, and her acceptance, which happened to be completely void of enthusiasm. I think she likes horses so much because she enjoys their tranquilizers. It's the most uninspiring (and unbelievable) pairing since Liza Minelli and David Guest. Or Michael Jackson and anyone over the age of 12 who has a vagina.

Afterwards, after the presentation of a $1 million check for the two to split, Grandpa gave his review: "You guys should give me a million dollars for having to watch that!"

We gave him no leeway.

"We offered to go into the other room!" Casey reminded him. Grandma laughed at him.