The Jim Brown statue outside First energy stadium in Cleveland Ohio. The sculptor, Robert Deming, used photos and input from Jim Brown himself to create the statue. Deming focused on capturing Brown's determined and tough persona, even down to details like his helmet and shoes. Brown himself specified that he wanted the statue to convey his toughness and determination, rather than grace or victory.
A photo of Leatherman (1885), a mysterious but gentle vagabond who walked the same 365-mile route around Connecticut and New York dressed in all leather for decades. The Leatherman was one of the most enigmatic figures of 19th-century America. Known for his stoic presence and head-to-toe leather outfit, he became a familiar sight to towns across Connecticut and New York. From the 1850s until his death in 1889, he walked a precise 365-mile loop every 34 days, sleeping in caves and rock shelters and rarely speaking more than a few words. Locals came to respect and care for him, leaving food out along his route and even allowing him to sleep in barns or outbuildings during bad weather. Despite numerous attempts to learn more about his identity, he never revealed his name or origins. Some believed he was a Frenchman, possibly suffering from trauma or exile. Others speculated he was a penitent pilgrim. When he died in 1889, he was buried in Ossining, New York. To this day, no one truly knows who the Leatherman was, but his legend continues to captivate historians and wanderers alike.
In 1988, what should have been a routine flight turned into one of the most harrowing aviation emergencies in history. Aloha Airlines Flight 243, a Boeing 737, was cruising over Hawaii when, without warning, a massive section of its upper fuselage ripped away mid-air. The roar of the wind replaced cabin chatter. Oxygen masks fell. And suddenly, passengers were staring at open sky where a ceiling had once been.
The explosive decompression was immediate and violent. A flight attendant, standing in the aisle at that crucial moment, was tragically swept out of the aircraft — the sole fatality in an incident that could have claimed many more. Around her, passengers clung to their seats, exposed to deafening wind, swirling debris, and the chilling reality of structural failure at 24,000 feet.
In the cockpit, Captain Robert Schornstheimer and First Officer Mimi Tompkins had only seconds to act. With the plane crippled and shaken by turbulence, they displayed extraordinary calm and precision. Against all odds, they controlled the wounded aircraft, communicating clearly with air traffic control and executing a descent and emergency landing in just 13 minutes.
The aircraft touched down safely in Maui — its roof torn off, its passengers terrified but alive. The structural failure was later traced to metal fatigue, triggering widespread reviews of aircraft maintenance protocols and inspection procedures around the world.
But beyond the investigation and the technical lessons, Flight 243 remains a story of human courage. Of a crew that refused to panic. Of passengers who held on. Of a pilot and co-pilot who steered a broken machine back to earth with nerves of steel.
And of a flight attendant who lost her life in the line of duty — still serving others when the sky itself gave way.
The legacy of Flight 243 endures not only in aviation safety reforms but in the simple, powerful truth it revealed: in the face of chaos, grace and courage can still take flight.
Comments
Love these muddy photos.
Barry Sanders and Jim Brown.
The Jim Brown statue outside First energy stadium in Cleveland Ohio. The sculptor, Robert Deming, used photos and input from Jim Brown himself to create the statue. Deming focused on capturing Brown's determined and tough persona, even down to details like his helmet and shoes. Brown himself specified that he wanted the statue to convey his toughness and determination, rather than grace or victory.
This song always knocks me on my a.., what a masterpiece.
A photo of Leatherman (1885), a mysterious but gentle vagabond who walked the same 365-mile route around Connecticut and New York dressed in all leather for decades. The Leatherman was one of the most enigmatic figures of 19th-century America. Known for his stoic presence and head-to-toe leather outfit, he became a familiar sight to towns across Connecticut and New York. From the 1850s until his death in 1889, he walked a precise 365-mile loop every 34 days, sleeping in caves and rock shelters and rarely speaking more than a few words. Locals came to respect and care for him, leaving food out along his route and even allowing him to sleep in barns or outbuildings during bad weather. Despite numerous attempts to learn more about his identity, he never revealed his name or origins. Some believed he was a Frenchman, possibly suffering from trauma or exile. Others speculated he was a penitent pilgrim. When he died in 1889, he was buried in Ossining, New York. To this day, no one truly knows who the Leatherman was, but his legend continues to captivate historians and wanderers alike.
In 1988, what should have been a routine flight turned into one of the most harrowing aviation emergencies in history. Aloha Airlines Flight 243, a Boeing 737, was cruising over Hawaii when, without warning, a massive section of its upper fuselage ripped away mid-air. The roar of the wind replaced cabin chatter. Oxygen masks fell. And suddenly, passengers were staring at open sky where a ceiling had once been.
The explosive decompression was immediate and violent. A flight attendant, standing in the aisle at that crucial moment, was tragically swept out of the aircraft — the sole fatality in an incident that could have claimed many more. Around her, passengers clung to their seats, exposed to deafening wind, swirling debris, and the chilling reality of structural failure at 24,000 feet.
In the cockpit, Captain Robert Schornstheimer and First Officer Mimi Tompkins had only seconds to act. With the plane crippled and shaken by turbulence, they displayed extraordinary calm and precision. Against all odds, they controlled the wounded aircraft, communicating clearly with air traffic control and executing a descent and emergency landing in just 13 minutes.
The aircraft touched down safely in Maui — its roof torn off, its passengers terrified but alive. The structural failure was later traced to metal fatigue, triggering widespread reviews of aircraft maintenance protocols and inspection procedures around the world.
But beyond the investigation and the technical lessons, Flight 243 remains a story of human courage. Of a crew that refused to panic. Of passengers who held on. Of a pilot and co-pilot who steered a broken machine back to earth with nerves of steel.
And of a flight attendant who lost her life in the line of duty — still serving others when the sky itself gave way.
The legacy of Flight 243 endures not only in aviation safety reforms but in the simple, powerful truth it revealed: in the face of chaos, grace and courage can still take flight.
So this is what it must have looked like in the air.