I cried on Galileo’s tomb

On July 16th of the Year of the Lord 2024, I visited Galileo’s tomb.

Virtually no one will disagree if I say, “Galileo was the first true scientist of the modern era”.  Galileo was born on February 15, 1564, precisely 400 years, 10 months, and 15 days before yours truly.

Like many of his like-minded friends in science, Galileo was a polymath, a “scientist’s scientist” broadly considered the father of the scientific method. His main scientific passions were astronomy, physics, and mathematics. Galileo’s life and lore are full of fascinating stories—so many, in fact, that there is no space in a normal-sized blog post to give them justice. Because of that, I offer a list including a few of my favorite books about him at the end of this post.*

To me, his life speaks of a man smart as a whip who wore his heart on his sleeve in more than one sense, sometimes (oftentimes?) causing him trouble. I am sure that if you are a fellow science enthusiast, you know more than one of his stories and sayings. Some of my favorites were the (probably) apocryphal “Eppur si muove” remark about the Earth when he was made to recant some of his opinions about the true nature of the universe during his Inquisition. Then again, the events that led to that episode of his life were not his finest moments, and one could argue that he brought them on himself. Pray tell, who in their right mind decides to write (and publish, and freaking publish!) a barely disguised parody and critique of the current Pope? Sigh. The man reminds me of someone I shave every morning. One of my former MS students (now a professor herself) likes to say that my face “has subtitles”.

Some of my other favorite “Galilean sayings” include:

“I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.”

“Nature is written in that great book which ever is before our eyes—I mean the universe—but we cannot understand it if we do not first learn the language and grasp the symbols in which it is written. The book is written in mathematical language, and the symbols are triangles, circles, and other geometrical figures, without whose help it is impossible to comprehend a single word of it; without which one wanders in vain through a dark labyrinth”.

And here is my probably current favorite, the one shown in the picture below, a phrase that always gets me misty-eyed.

Bought this cute notebook at a gift shop in Pisa.

And speaking of misty-eyed (and more)…

Mrs. Baldscientist and I celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary this coming December 10. As part of this milestone anniversary, we wanted to go somewhere special, and Europe has been in our sights for a long time. We made it happen last July (I’ll probably take her somewhere else in December; don’t tell her!). 

In the planning stages, Lisa included a trip to the Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence, Italy, for the explicit purpose for me to see Galileo’s tomb. I appreciated it of course, but I did not think of it as a pilgrimage, as it will definitely happen if and when I get to visit Down House in Downe, Kent, England. So, what happened in Florence surprised me in a way that I still struggle to describe properly. Perhaps I’ll never be able to.

We arrived at the church, paid the entrance fee, we were given a site map, and got in. Immediately, the atmosphere felt… formal, almost hallowed. Please let me remind you that I stopped being religious for the second time (and for probably the last time) in my life shortly after 2016 (we won’t talk about that today, though), so my first surprise was when I felt reverence for the place I found myself into. It felt sacred. I even lit a candle in remembrance of my dad and Lisa’s mom and dad, and I even offered a prayer on their behalf. I must have been about eleven years old the last time I did anything like that, during my Catholic days of the late 1970s. 

As I walked around, I saw the tombs of Michaelangelo, Dante, and Machiavelli among others, and pretty soon, I found myself in front of Galileo’s tomb.

To this day, I do not know what immediately came over me. I felt a lump in my throat, and my eyes began to well. I gasped. At this point in this story, I must tell you that it is *very* hard for me to cry (it is easier for me to get misty-eyed, though, but not much easier). It takes a lot of emotion for me to give a *good* cry, and I can actually tell you the last four times this happened prior to our 2024 trip: When Lisa’s mom passed in 2001, when my dad passed in 2009, when Lisa’s dad passed in 2013, and almost exactly two years ago for something that I will not discuss under any circumstance.

Back to Florence.

What I am genuinely struggling to explain to you is the whirlwind of thoughts that filled my mind and overwhelmed my feelings. Kept tearing up as I caught myself telling Galileo (in my mind) that “…your life calling, your love for the natural world, your founding of the science profession, made it possible for me to become the man I am today. Because of what you started all those years ago, today I can call myself a scientist.”

And I kept going. I thanked him for paving the way for science and for showing us some truths about our universe that still fill thousands with awe to this day. I expressed my wish that someday, if and when we meet “up there,” I would love “to thank you in person” (in spirit?). I felt so many other things, thoughts that I might be forever unable to express verbally. The funny thing is that I do not think I ever thought all those things, consciously, at least.

As I thought these thoughts and many more, I kept crying. Lisa caught up with me, and while looking concerned, she asked if I was ok. I told her what was happening, and she hugged me; she gave me one of those hugs I’d never tire of till the day I die. She took the picture below. My face says it all.

As I calmed down a little, I sat down in one of the many pews of the church, alongside my fellow pilgrims.

Life is full of surprises. You will never know where life will take you and where you will find unexpected insights that explain many of the truths of your life.

So once again, thank you, Galileo.

*References

Atkins (2003) Galileo’s Finger. Oxford University Press.

Livio (2020) Galileo and the science deniers. Simon & Schuster.

Sobel (2011) Galileo’s daughter. Bloomsbury.

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