When I look around the blogosphere I see so many beautiful memories of my father. I've been spending all day reading what he meant to people, the ways in which he inspired them to learn about science and critical thinking, or compelled them to go on a voyage of discovery about the universe. It's deeply moving, and I'll forever be grateful. For my blog entry, I won't tell you about his many scientific achievements or about all the good he did for this world--there are others who are blogging about this far more eloquently than I ever could. Instead, I'm going to share dad memories with you. He was many things to many people, but he was my dad and I want you to know the man I knew.
He had a knack for pinball, knowing just how hard to bump a machine without tilting it. We'd go to arcades together and he'd win bonus games like mad. Videogames were never his thing, though he could appreciate the better ones. I remember the day I showed him Computer Baseball, a strategy game for the Apple IIe. You could pit some of the greatest teams in MLB history against each other. We played Babe Ruth's 1927 Yankees against Jackie Robinson's 1955 Dodgers for about an hour, and then he turned to me and said, "Never show this to me again. I like it too much, and I don't want to lose time."
Often he'd be invited to speak at an event, and I remember sitting with him, watching him gather his thoughts in the quiet moments before he'd take the stage. He'd make tiny notes on an index card. Just a word or two about each point he wanted to make. And armed with these notes, he'd go up and captivate the audience. Never a boring moment, never a time when he'd lose his place or go off track. As a child I'd sometimes think of him as a translator or a code breaker. How else could he turn those mere fragments into such amazing and inspiring ideas?
He was never without a dictaphone. Vividly, I remember those small black tape recorders with their bright red record buttons. We could be walking or talking and an interesting thought would come to him. He'd excuse himself, hold up an index finger to say he'd be just a minute, reach for the dictaphone, and then lay out his idea. Now I'm a writer and I use dictaphones, too. When I use them, my words usually come together like this: "Okay, for the book, I think it might be really cool if so-and-so does this instead of that..." And later on I'll work that idea into what I'm writing. By contrast, I remember my dad would speak in long, flowing, perfect paragraphs. He'd say it just right and it would go straight into the book. Sometimes he'd have a thought, speak a paragraph or two for one book, and this would in turn inspire a thought for a separate project, so he'd reach for another dictaphone, and so on. He always knew how to make the most out of the times inspiration would strike.
You probably already know this, but he was fantastic in a debate. He could take William F. Buckley's arguments apart, and as a kid I quickly found that my "Why you should buy me a cool dirt bike" arguments weren't nearly as good as Buckley's. But he always listened. He always gave me credit for making valid points. And eventually I did find myself biking around Ithaca.
He was deeply supportive of me. Even in the times where I worried him--dropping out of high school, for example--his belief in me never wavered. I remember him looking out for me. At the same time, he was adamant about not helping me too much. He didn't want to spoil me, and he wanted to make sure I could achieve my goals on my own without even a hint of nepotism. When I look back, I have tremendous respect for how he did this.
He had a genuine interest in people. I hear many conversations today where someone asks about another person, but it's just a courtesy--they're not really interested in the answer. This was never my father. He was always curious to know what things were like for his fellow man. In Manhattan, we could get into a cab, and maybe the driver would recognize him and maybe not, but my dad would start up a conversation and they'd get into really interesting discussions about the course of human events. The driver could hail from anywhere in the world, and Dad would know a lot about what was happening there. I remember thinking he knew more about Ghana than most Americans knew about America. And what he didn't know he wanted to find out.
I remember arguing with him about The Simpsons and Beavis and Butthead. Both shows made a bad first impression on him. I persuaded him to give The Simpsons another chance, and he eventually saw what all the fuss was about. He grew to genuinely enjoy the show. I don't think I ever won him over on Beavis and Butthead though. "They're not meant to be role models," I remember protesting. "It's a subversive critique." Nope, not his cup of tea. I can only guess what he'd have made of Family Guy or South Park. We also went back and forth on violence in the media. I argued that edgy films and TV shows were just a reflection of our society, and were not contributing to real life violence. He wasn't so sure. We went round and round on this many times. A really good, spirited disagreement, where each of our positions would evolve from what the other would say. I miss those times. Now that I think about it, that's part of the reason why I enjoyed the IS ART THE INSPIRATION FOR MADNESS? panel back at Worldcon so much--exploring those same questions with Joe Haldeman and Tim Powers stirred up great memories of my dad.
He had incredible patience. His fans would constantly come up to him to ask him questions, to ask for an autograph, or to ask to take a picture with him. Sometimes this would happen at an inopportune time--if we were out to dinner, enjoying a conversation, for example--but I don't remember him ever treating anyone disrespectfully. As a small child, he had such passion for science--he wanted to know why things were the way they were--and he held on to that passion his entire life. This made him deeply sympathetic to anyone interested in learning. They were kindred spirits, and he wanted to share all the joys and wonders of the cosmos he'd come to understand.
We loved basketball. We'd watch NBA games whenever possible, wondering if this would be the year Patrick Ewing would lead the Knicks to the championship. And always the answer would be no. He'd point out the coaches and tell me what they were like as players back in the years before I was born. When a visiting player went up to take a foul shot, the home team fans would make noise and wave towels trying to distract him, and dad never liked that. I remember saying it gives teams an incentive to win home court advantage, but he objected on principle--he didn't think it was sporting. There's something so decent about that. And I remember my mother getting increasingly upset because she wanted me to go to bed, but dad and I were watching a game and he'd promised I could stay up until the end. Overtime. Then double overtime. Then triple overtime. Man, what a game. (Game 5, Celtics-Suns, 1976 NBA Finals.)
He did not like the movie Aliens. I thought it was fun, scary, cathartic; he thought it was needlessly violent and why must extraterrestrials be portrayed in such a negative light? He had mixed feelings about Star Wars. I remember watching it with him, and when we reached the part where Han Solo brags that the Millennium Falcon made the Kessel Run in "less than twelve parsecs," he made an exasperated sound. I asked him what was wrong, and he explained that a parsec is a unit of distance, not time. I said, "Dad, it's just a movie." He said, "Yes, but they can afford to get the science right." And I thought, yes. He's absolutely right. (What movies did he like? He was a big fan of David Lean epics like "Dr. Zhivago" and, especially, "Lawrence of Arabia." I remember how he loved that transition where Peter O'Toole blows out the match and we cut quite suddenly to the Nafud desert. It's such a powerful moment.)
He'd make very interesting noises. His laugh was explosive and uninhibited. It was the kind of laugh that made you feel good for making him laugh. His sneezes were booming. And sometimes he'd talk to animals in their native tongue. The times we'd see dolphins, he'd greet them in a reasonable approximation of dolphin speak. They'd often answer him. I have no idea what was said. But my favorite sound of his was the sound he'd make upon discovering something interesting and new, some idea or possibility that impressed him or opened up a fresh way of looking at things. It was a kind of "aaah." One of my proudest moments: We were watching my first Star Trek episode, "Attached," and within minutes he'd made the sound, turning to me with a beaming smile and saying, "That's really good." And this continued for the entire show. The completeness of how much he loved what I'd done, that genuine sense of enjoyment stays with me, a sense of respect and approval I treasure like nothing else.
He drove an orange Porsche 914 with the license plate, "PHOBOS." Named after one of the moons of Mars. I never asked him, "Why Phobos? Why not the other moon, Deimos?" though I wish I had. As a child I was fascinated by Greek mythology and knew Phobos as a demigod of fear. It's ironic because my father was the least fearful person I've ever known. Though he worried about the state of the world from time to time, it never stopped him. And when we'd talk about what things might be like in twenty-five, fifty or a hundred years, he said he knew there would be difficult challenges ahead, but he believed we were up to the task. He believed in human ingenuity and compassion, in thinking long-term instead of short, in putting our many differences and superstitions aside. He believed in a better tomorrow. He believed in us.
Dear Nick,
Thanks for sharing those memories. Your Dad was such an inspiration to me! I was encouraged to become more involved in astronomy and science because of him. His enthusiasm was so infectious.
D.B.
Posted by: Dana B. | December 27, 2006 at 10:03 AM
Thanks Nick, it's nice to read about the human side of such a public figure.
Posted by: Buzz | December 29, 2006 at 03:11 PM
Meaning no disrespect, and trying for real balance, your father inspired poetry, Sir. All said, it remains I have a high regard for his memory, still...
I composed this on his passing:
As regards our Carl Sagan,
A hero of my youth,
Seems better he move onward
Before much longer in the tooth.
Remains, he pulled me to a place beyond
Where comets are now foaming!
Smart and Brave, and flinching not,
He started me to roaming!
He fought against Doc Condon;
He stood for what was right!
He was asking pointed questions;
He stood for Truth’s bright Light!
His startup was Promethean,
He did nothing I can hate;
Then, he avoided Stanton Friedman;
He walked away from that debate.
He scoffed, and sneered, and guffawed;
He smirked at Mack’s abductions.
He made our science shallower,
And he narrowed its production.
He added to our ridicule.
He took some wrongful tacks.
Late in an elitist’s life,
Was he blind to brave new fact?
It’s the honored way of closed-off minds,
That they harden up with age?
Their part is all but over,
And they crap upon the stage!
They cannot say that they’ve been wrong,
They won’t cop to newer info;
They don’t tell you of some newfound truth,
Just *Distort* with innuendo.
History is littered here,
It’s in your own experience!
The greatest can eclipse their greatness,
And betray their own ebullience.
Like Grant before his presidency,
Or Lugosi before “Plan 9.”
Did Sagan take a low road?
Did he cover up some sign?
Did he do in fact what was accused?
Did he set our study back?
Did he prevaricate some issue?
Did he stab us in the back?
I’d prefer it not, or so I’ll remember.
As he put me at the station –
Provided passage for _this_ old man
On his starship — “Imagination.”
~~~
Hey -- this could have been a lot worse... you could have been Philip Klass' kid... [g]. ...but seriously, and with all respect... even IF flawed like all of us, your Dad was a giant, an unforgettable man in history, and that's a good thing.
Have a great new year, Sir.
[email protected]
> www.AlienView.net
>> AVG Blog — http://alienviewgroup.blogspot.com/
>>> U F O M a g a z i n e — www.ufomag.com
Posted by: Lehmberg | January 03, 2007 at 04:24 PM
Beautiful.
Lindo isto aqui.
Parabéns!
Posted by: Alessandro Martins | January 14, 2007 at 06:32 AM
Thank you so much for sharing some interesting and entertaining "behind the scenes" about your dad.
I am sure you have have many, many stories... in fact, billions and billions!
(Sorry, but somebody had to say it! - - with respect, of course.)
Posted by: Frankie C. | January 18, 2007 at 10:48 PM
“No final de 1996 o Universo ficou menor. Não porque tenha diminuído de tamanho, mas porque perdeu uma de suas mais brilhantes estrelas, o astrônomo norte-americano Carl Edward Sagan”. Este foi o sentimento de milhões de pessoas em todo o mundo ao saber da perda do maior e mais influente divulgador da ciência que já conhecemos.
Dia 20 de dezembro de 2006 fez 10 anos que perdemos Carl Sagan, neste mesmo período a humanidade vivenciou a mais rápida revolução tecnológica de nossa espécie, a computação e a internet cresceram de forma nunca antes vista, aproximando milhões de pessoas e possibilitaram centenas de descobertas científicas maravilhosas. O homem parece estar no ápice de seu conhecimento e isso tudo traria grandes alegrias a Sagan.
Infelizmente neste mesmo tempo continuamos a atacar e destruir “nosso” planeta como nunca, destruindo o meio ambiente, a camada de ozônio, as florestas tropicais, o solo fértil e ainda achamos tempo de criar guerras irracionais por razões ideológicas ou pelo esgotamento das fontes de recursos naturais, isso tudo é vergonhoso e inadmissível. Ainda somos uma civilização irresponsável e que cada vez mais destruímos o único lar que temos.
No entanto temos o conhecimento científico e a tecnologia para minimizar a destruição de nossa espécie e talvez de “nosso” planeta, e ultimamente tenho visto várias ações de conscientização sobre o tema, mas, a única forma efetiva de preservarmos a vida neste planeta é a ação global e conjunta de todos os seres humanos.
Há dez anos perdemos talvez a pessoa que mais amou “nosso” planeta e todas as espécies de vida que nele habitam, mas, felizmente seu legado influenciou milhões de pessoas em todo o mundo e sem dúvidas continuará influenciando por séculos e espero que consigamos viver estes séculos...
Posted by: Efrain Maciel e Silva | January 20, 2007 at 09:06 PM
I participated in the blogathon back in December, but somehow I missed seeing this post of yours. Anyway, I'm delighted to see that we both had the same favoured moment in Lawrence of Arabia, a movie which I adore.
Thank you for humanizing him even more and sharing these moments.
Posted by: PixelFish | February 07, 2007 at 06:23 PM
Hey, its a lovely and a touchy post.
Posted by: Carol | February 16, 2007 at 03:11 AM
Nick, I'm sorry I missed the Blog-a-thon, but it's never too late so I'll post something tomorrow on my blog.
At 59 I'm old enough to remember the original airing of "Cosmos". This was a time of scientific superstars, including Jacques Cousteau, Jane Goodall and your father. I bemoan the loss of this type of programming. You father was the best of best.
His enthusiasm was infectious and his knowledge was amazing. But most of all, as you have indicated here, we all knew that above all he was a human and viewed his life in the context of everything else.
Viewers were drawn like moths to a flame. I can remember soaking up his information like a vacuum.
Lots of time was spent trying to put a finger on what made him different....special. It was definitely some of the qualities you have mentioned in regards to his attributes as a dad. Those attributes showed through his work.
I remember finding your site a while back and you'd posted a picture of some graffiti. Scrawled across a wall somewhere it said, "Carl Sagan cared". Indeed. And we cared about him and what he had to say. He was a very special person and the world just isn't the same without his enthusiasm and intellect.
I miss Carl Sagan.
Carl Sagan cared.
Posted by: Suzanne | February 21, 2007 at 11:15 PM
Greetings Nick,
I enjoyed, immensely, your fond recollections of your father; thank you for sharing them (they also help to counterbalance some of the rather negative stuff found in the Davidson biography).
Regarding the "Phobos" license plate:
(Purely conjecture, of course, but .....) I believe your father always loved the phrase "the hurtling moons of Barsoom" from the English author Edgar Rice Burroughs and his romantic Martian chronicles featuring the adventures of John Carter.
The moons of Mars, Deimos & Phobos, both differ in chemical composition from the planet and Phobos, in particular, has some extremely peculiar characteristics:
1. Its period of revolution is actually less than the rotation of Mars itself (very unique for a "moon"). The same cannot be said for Deimos, nor any other moons in the solar system.
2. The orbital velocity of Phobos is increasing with time such that it will impact the surface of Mars in around 10-20 million years.
Way back before any spacecraft fly-bys, there was much provocative speculation that the moons of mars might have an "artificial" origin (due to some of the things pointed out above, as well as some others).
I think, maybe, your father loved the idea & relationship that "the Moons of Barsoom" (from his childhood) could also serve a useful purpose in Science by stimulating hypotheses that could later be checked out & examined in reality.
In other words, I think it was a good example as to the "dance" that your father talked about ..... that Science & Science Fiction do together and how that is so important in influencing others and the progression of Science in general (as was, indeed, the case for him).
At any rate, I hope you read this and - if you ever have the time - just let me know what you think. If not, that's ok, too ..... for you must be pretty busy; good luck with your course at Cornell (I wish I could have taken your father's Senior Seminar on Critical Thinking, "Astronomy 490" there. That would have been a dream come true for me!!)
You are a really lucky guy to have had Carl Sagan as your father. Even though I haven't walked in your shoes and am on the outside looking in, ........... for what it's worth, ..... I envy you.
All my best.
Posted by: alpha-helix | March 07, 2007 at 12:34 AM
Hi Nick,
I attended the University of Arizona during the fall of 1977. Your father would come by every now and then.
One afternoon I got few pictures of his 911 Porsche Targa.
I thought you might be interested in seeing them.
Visit:
http://al-paslow.smugmug.com/
and scroll down to "Carl Sagan's Porsche".
Take a look and let me know what you think.
Thanks,
Al
Posted by: Al Paslow | May 29, 2007 at 05:56 PM
Only one word:
Thanks
Only one vision:
We are dust of stars.
that else can I say about your father, without to break what you keep inside in your soul and memories?
You are the luckiest man over tne world... and probably in the whole galaxy. I hope any child could have a father like your was.
Posted by: Adolfo Loayza | June 05, 2007 at 09:32 AM
Dear Nick,
Thanks for sharing your memories of your Dad with all of us.
We invite you to come visit with us at "Living Hope In Jesus" (www.livinghopeinjesus.com). The LORD Jesus has treasures there waiting just for you.
May God ever bless you in the knowledge of Himself, Nick.
Sincerely in The LORD and ONLY Savior Jesus Christ,
Stephen and Bonita Ann Richie
Posted by: Stephen and Bonita Ann Richie | June 30, 2007 at 10:42 PM
Dear Nick,
Thank you for posting memories of you dad.
I don't think I was quite as good a father as he was, but I don't feel bad. Your dad was far ahead of most people in many ways.
I particularly like his words, "We are a way for the Cosmos to know itself." I have found it consistently helps me regain my center, and reminds me what is really important in life.
Peace,
Jeff Olivares
Posted by: Jeff Olivares | July 25, 2007 at 12:34 PM
Great stuff! I was only three when your dad died, and I don't think anybody mentioned him to me until the 20th last year. But now I'm rediscovering him, and I've read Cosmos and Pale Blue Dot. Great stuff. Every chapter is like a lesson-adventure with the greatest teacher I've never had. He was a hero. If you ask a little kid what a hero is, they'll say that it's someone with superpowers who saves the world, like Spiderman or the Fantastic Four.
Well, Carl Sagan was super smart, super daring, and a super great writer. By working for protection of the environment, discovering nuclear winter and helping to end the arms race, learning about places we can live in the solar system if an asteroid hits Earth, and inspiring uncountable numbers of people to become scientists, he saved the world more times than we will ever know. And that's my contribution. Greetings from a child of Earth.
Posted by: KaiYeves | August 12, 2007 at 01:53 PM
Thank you for sharing with us, i personaly liked the part of starwars distance unit, he was right, movies shouldnt distort science, please excuse my bad english i speak spanish,
muchas gracias! y descanza Carl
Posted by: Yamil | September 09, 2007 at 07:30 PM
I was not here to post a comment over a year ago, today October 2007 but then, some things are timeless. Perhaps the only one that may read this is you dear, Carl Sagan, as you live beyond this world that you so touched.
I as a young mother of two tiny tots when your show COSMOS would come on - and now my passion to reach our youth to change them from their self-destructive ways - oh yes, "old fashion" good character and good manners is what I teach.
Reading your beloved son's Nick memories of you two together - I sense you are truly like me as we are from the same generation. Some things will never change - human decency and respect for others - and I do get a sense between the lines, that you like me object to all the violence and self-destructive venues in the media today. It does have an impact.
However, as the centuries and years pass away the truth and laws of the universe remain the same. Each generation strives in search of their identify only to realize such wisdom in later years -
God Bless you sweet man - a giant of our time - we miss your gentle touch, words of compassion and quiet humbleness.
dianegrace
Posted by: dianegrace | October 11, 2007 at 12:31 PM
Nick, it's 06:03 AM now here in Brazil, and I'm completely .. Completely ..
Anyway man, no words for this in portuguese, harder work in English ..
Just to say, Thank you ...
Posted by: Vinicius Franco | October 23, 2007 at 04:08 AM
I just want to say how much your dad inspired me and even now through his Cosmos series, (which took some getting here in the UK!), displays a perception of the real universe that few seem to understand. I am proud to have been touched by his words and thank you for sharing your memories with us.
Posted by: Bob Palmer | November 08, 2007 at 11:10 AM
A new year of commemoration of his father CARL SAGAN, do not forget, as long as we remember. Today Tribute to the radio 97.7 FM station Pereira (Colombia), in the Twenty-First Century Explorations program with audio in Spanish greetings of the voyager, the sounds of the earth and music (27 Tracks) Originals.
Http://www.pereiraculturayturismo.gov.com
Http://www.jgb-hificosmos.blogspot.com
A Hug, NICK.
Posted by: Juvenal Gordon | December 20, 2007 at 03:09 AM