Welcome
by Neil Caudle
For this issue, Jason Smith went to Chile to see a new telescope, and I went to Spindale, in the "isothermal zone" of Rutherford County, N.C., to see a dead textile mill. Chile: big science, tall mountains, great view. Spindale: hard times, empty buildings, broken hearts. At least Jason brought me a T-shirt.
But I'm not complaining. Spindale and I had some catching up to do. Many years ago, when I met the woman who would become my wife, she was driving a VW Beetle with three decals in the rear window: George Washington University, Wake Forest University, and Isothermal Community College. This seemed to me a promising blend of uptown erudition and down-home practicality. I guessed right about the driver, even though it turned out that she'd never actually attended Isothermal. Her father was the dean of students there, and her parents lived just a mile or so from Spindale's tree-lined main drag.
Her dad would be proud of the college these days. Everyone I spoke with in Rutherford County — from laid-off textile and apparel workers to the local newspaper editor — told me the same thing: without Isothermal, there wouldn't be much hope. For thousands who have lost their mill jobs, the college is a good place to turn things around.
There is a moment, precious to astronomers, when a new telescope opens its lens to the stars. That moment is called "first light," and it will occur some day soon on Cerro Pachon in Chile. In that time when the energy of far-distant objects first touches a well-polished lens, astronomers dream of the magical things they will learn from the skies.
There is no first light at the moment in Spindale. No magical dream. But our researchers have been on the ground in the isothermal zone. They have stood with Jim Cowan in the loom room of Stonecutter mill. They have talked with Tim Barth in Town Hall. And so as we probe the mysteries of intergalactic shock waves and cosmic explosions, we are also examining the forces that rip people out of their livelihoods and cast them aside. And even the most battle-scarred mill-town survivor will tell you that this is the way to make progress: keep your head in the stars and your feet on the ground.
