Stargazing and giving a terrorism a run for its money

"The Earth is just too small and fragile a basket for the human race to keep all its eggs in."

                                                                                                                                — Robert Heinlein

"Terrorism is the tactic of demanding the impossible, and demanding it at gunpoint."

                                                                                                                           — Christopher Hitchens

AUBURN — Call us a couple of nerdy stargazers who enjoy scanning the universe for things that go bump in the dark skies above the Pine Tree State.

Actually, don't use the word nerdy when addressing me or you and I will have a big problem! It could get ugly.

For the past two nights, Anthony and I bundled up and stood outside our home, patiently waiting and watching for the International Space Station to pass over New England.

We learned online that it would streak across Maine at the usual 17,500 miles per hour to remain in orbit or plummet to earth. 

We kept a vigil despite the chill in the air, waiting for that fast-moving dot in the sky to race across the darkness and thrill a father and son who never miss an opportunity to check out a man-made object traversing the heavens.

Some people say studying the stars is a straight waste of mankind's time. I say bully for NASA, which put a bunch of brave guys on the moon and brought humanity closer to understanding the universe's randomness.

We as a species have always been adventurous and have taken bold risks to see what is over the next ridge during our evolution as human beings.

Space, like the ocean, is a new frontier that must be explored or man's quest for knowledge will become stagnant. There is enlightenment in the stars and all of us should keep looking up at the vast darkness known as the universe.

My son and I stood outside with our cameras and watched in awe as the space station passed above us from a height of approximately 255 miles.

I was hoping for a shout-out from the astronauts as they raced through the night. Sure enough, the station passed over us at 7:54 Eastern Standard Time and didn't disappoint two fans on two chilly, April evenings on a quiet street in central Maine.

Giving terrorism a run for its money

No matter how hard terrorists try, they can't repress a nation that raised the bar for all of humanity when our founding fathers wrote this one sentence in the Declaration of Independence: "All men are created equal."

That one phrase is why the Boston Marathon will be held on another Patriots' Day under the watchful eyes of 3,500 law enforcement officers.

All those pathetic and misguided brothers did was make a nation stronger. What I will never understand is how two young men could target an athletic event that defines peace. Runners from every walk of life and religion come to the Bay State to compete in an event that brings people together. 

There is no question America also has a past littered with dark moments in its history, but it is a nation that tries hard and still stands as the cradle of liberty.

When the starter's gun goes off in Hopkinton on Monday morning, we will be cheering for the runners as well as for a nation and a city that hasn't missed a step in spite of an ugly act of terrorism.

The day the earth stood still

AUBURN — Anthony was occupied with his Hot Wheels cars and "Barney" was driving me batty when I flipped the channel to NBC to check on the world on a warm Tuesday morning.

The image that appeared on my TV startled me. There was a gapping hole in one of the Twin Towers in New York City. I began hearing about a plane smashing into the tower at 8:46 a.m. The tower was billowing with smoke and obscuring the top of the building. I also learned people were trapped on the top floors. I knew a small plane could have not inflicted a wide blast in this super structure. There was no doubt an airliner had plowed into the building at great velocity.

I sat up on the couch and was thankful Anthony paid no attention to the television as he drove his cars along the coffee table littered with toys. My wife, Terri, was teaching at school. 

I could see flames leaping out of the punctured tower. I wondered how long the building would stand up to the blazing heat before it collapsed. People were leaping from the building to escape the flames and smoke. I realized rescuing these poor souls was impossible due to the damage and thick smoke that covered the top of the tower.

Newscaster Katie Couric was trying ascertain what was going on when I saw Flight 175 out Logan Airport in Boston appear in the background as Couric was speaking and slam into the South Tower at 9:02 a.m. 

A week later I discoveed that Peter Morgan Goodrich, a Bates College graduate and All-American track star was on Flight 175.

And it was only then that I realized I had witnessed his murder.

I wrote three stories about this fine young man and spoke with his extraordinary parents over the course of a decade. Goodrich's mother, Sally, passed away in December of 2010. She was a remarkable woman who established a foundation in his name.

Both towers were burning when I reached for the phone to call my mother in Massachusetts. My dad was still teaching school. We spoke for a few moments when I decided to phone my sister, Roxanne, who was rushing her husband to a hospital because of his bad back.

I called my mom again, but dialed the wrong number. For the next five minutes, I was talking to a stranger about the attacks in New York City. We didn't know each other or exchange names, but for those five minutes, two strangers comforted each other while the Big Apple burned and became the epicenter of terrorist attacks.

For the next hour, I kept Anthony busy while I kept one an eye on the television. I couldn't leave the room. New York City was a smoldering mess and reports were surfacing that the Pentagon was also rammed by an airliner at 9:37 a.m., and another plane was heading toward the White House. But thanks to the heroic efforts of Flight 93 passengers, who rushed the cockpit, the plane nosedived in Shanksville, Penn. at 10:03 and never reached its intended target.

I knew it wouldn't be long before both towers crumbled to the ground. I thought about those helpless souls stranded on the top floors, knowing that rescues would never come. I went over and hugged my son tight. I was feeling numb from the turmoil that was spreading across the nation.

At 9:59, the South Tower shattered and roared as it fell to the ground. I watched fleeing bystanders running down narrow streets as huge clouds of dust engulfed people. Nearly a half hour later, the other tower collapsed, sending another whirlwind of dirt that turned day into night. Office papers littered the streets as bystanders encased in gray dust coughed and cried.

I looked at my five-year-old who figured out that something awful happened on September 11, 2001. He drew a picture at preschool the next day depicting one of the towers crashing to earth. I still have the drawing.

I scooped him up and decided to grab a slice a pizza somewhere and stay away from the television set. We walked into a pizza joint and quietly sat down. People ate in silence. It was the quietest meal I have ever eaten in my life.

My wife finally got home and I called the newspaper to see if they wanted me in the newsroom early. Reporters and editors had already put out an extra edition on the streets around 2 p.m.

The sports department had a light night. We put our section together early and left. The editorial staff in news would have a long night. 

I went home and turned on the television. All three major networks were televising the rescue efforts and would continue broadcasting reports for the next five days, interrupting regular programming. The reports were grim. I couldn't sleep because of the attacks. I wondered what the future held for our nation and its children like my son.

 It has been 10 years since the Twin Towers plummeted to the ground. Along the way, the United States has fought three separate conflicts in the Middle East and is still wallowing in a Depression, but the memories off 9/11 never fade.

The next day at preschool I talked with frightened parents as we crowded into the hallway. I hugged Anthony one more time in the classroom before getting into my car. The calamity of Tuesday's attacks flooded every radio station on the dial. I thought about the nearly 3,000 victims scattered across New York City, Washington D.C., and Shanksville, Penn.

The Associated Press has been moving the list of victims over the wire in small takes. New stories have surfaced on this 10-year anniversary of 9/11. The Internet is saturated with video footage of the attacks.

The controversy and finger-pointing goes on, construction at Ground Zero continues, and conflicts in the Middle East rage without resolution. And now, New York City and Washington D.C. is on full alert and bracing for a terrorist attack.

But it doesn't take an anniversary to remind me of what we all lost on that warm Tuesday morning.