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RACINE MAN SEEKS TO CORRECT ALBERT EINSTEIN
By Janine Anderson
Journal Times Online, WI
Dec 2 2006
RACINE - Raffi Abagian has a big idea. Huge. The kind of idea that
could change the world.
But there's a problem. He doesn't know whether or not he's right.
See, Abagian's idea isn't the next big thing in cell phones or toys
or cars or any other gadget someone might need to make their life
complete. His idea is really big. Universe big.
Abagian, in his own words, is an "unemployed Armenian." He's
46. He graduated from Menominee High School in Menominee, Mich. He
has a bachelor's degree in literature and minors in economics and
international relations. He spent six years in the United States Army,
but he won't say exactly what he did there.
Physics is a hobby, he said.
"Quantum physics, dynamics. I read a lot," he said.
So when this big idea started tickling his brain, he read even more.
For four days he thought about virtually nothing other than this
theory. He couldn't sleep, he thought so much.
"I started postulating over this, trying to figure out where I was
wrong," he said. "I wasn't able to."
So he went to college professors. The first one he called told him
to get in touch with Stephen Hawking.
"If you've got Stephen Hawking's number in your rolodex, I'll take it,"
Abagian said. "I'm not stupid."
He left a message for a second professor, but never got a call back.
Abagian thought he might have started too high. So he dropped down
a step, and went to Horlick High School. A teacher there pointed him
to Park High School's Brian Galley.
Galley invited Abagian to come by during sixth hour on Tuesday. A
friend told him not to wear jeans or a T-shirt, so he would make a
better impression. He put on a subdued Hawaiian-style shirt and khaki
cargo pants. Sunglasses perched on top of his head, nestled into his
unruly black curls.
He stopped at a Citgo station and bought a pack of Newport cigarettes
on the way to Park, to calm his nerves.
Abagian parked his red Jeep in the small lot, careful to choose a
spot that wasn't marked reserved. Abagian couldn't afford to pay a
parking ticket if he got one.
"Let's blow this stand," he said as he got out of the car.
Abagian knows he's taking a risk, even by just talking to a high
school teacher, but he can't pass up the chance.
"Even if there's mild interest it means there's some validity," he
said. "There's no hard evidence, but it all fits and makes sense. I
want this out of my head. For four or five days I was up trying to
figure this out."
Abagian's idea is this: "Gravity is independent and absolute." It is
separate from Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Gravity is, in fact,
the thing that keeps the whole universe in place, Abagian says.
"When the big bang expanded, gravity kept it in place, even then,"
he said.
Abagian is waiting in the hallway outside Galley's room at Park High
School. He's pacing back and forth. It's 12:10 p.m., eight minutes
before the period ends. He ducks out a side door to have another
cigarette. When he comes back in the hallways fill with students.
Galley meets him at the door and invites him inside. Galley sits down
and Abagian starts explaining things. He talks for several minutes
about dark matter and black holes and sunspots. When he's done he
looks at Galley.
"It's a theory that is logical," the teacher said.
Abagian paces through the classroom, up and down the rows of desks.
"Oh my God. Oh my God."
Galley watches Abagian move through his classroom and smiles.
"Nobody knows what gravity is," he said. "I tell my kids the same
thing."
With a boost in his confidence, Abagian tried to figure out what to
do next.
"I'm waiting for the question I can't answer," he said. "I need to
talk to professors so I can get these ideas to where they can be
published. I've read countless books in the past week."
Galley offered Abagian one more book to read, "Just Six Numbers: The
Deep Forces That Shape Our Universe," by Martin J. Rees. Galley told
him to read it, that it will give him something else to think about.
He also told Abagian to write his theory down, and bring it back in.
"Type it up and come back tomorrow," Galley said. "I'm here for the
kids, but I'm here for the community, too."
Abagian said that wouldn't be a problem.
"It's the foremost thing on my mind," he said. "I'm not crazy, am I?"
"No," Galley said.
Abagian promised to get the writing done and bring it back to Galley.
He walked back to the main office, where he turned over his car keys
in exchange for the orange visitor's pass that let him into the school.
As he left Park High School he pulled out his cell phone and called
a friend. She didn't answer, but he left a message, saying he'd done
it, and that he wasn't crazy. He called another friend and told him
about the meeting. His words came fast, and his free hand gestured
as he spoke, explaining how the meeting went.
"Talk to you on the flip side," he said. And he hung up the phone,
started the Jeep and drove off.
"I think I'm blowing myself away," he said. "I'm in a zone. I haven't
been in a zone like this in a long time. I feel lucky. Like I've got
tumblers in my hand and it keeps coming up seven, 11."
http://www.journaltimes.com/nucleus/ind ex.php?itemid=9393
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
By Janine Anderson
Journal Times Online, WI
Dec 2 2006
RACINE - Raffi Abagian has a big idea. Huge. The kind of idea that
could change the world.
But there's a problem. He doesn't know whether or not he's right.
See, Abagian's idea isn't the next big thing in cell phones or toys
or cars or any other gadget someone might need to make their life
complete. His idea is really big. Universe big.
Abagian, in his own words, is an "unemployed Armenian." He's
46. He graduated from Menominee High School in Menominee, Mich. He
has a bachelor's degree in literature and minors in economics and
international relations. He spent six years in the United States Army,
but he won't say exactly what he did there.
Physics is a hobby, he said.
"Quantum physics, dynamics. I read a lot," he said.
So when this big idea started tickling his brain, he read even more.
For four days he thought about virtually nothing other than this
theory. He couldn't sleep, he thought so much.
"I started postulating over this, trying to figure out where I was
wrong," he said. "I wasn't able to."
So he went to college professors. The first one he called told him
to get in touch with Stephen Hawking.
"If you've got Stephen Hawking's number in your rolodex, I'll take it,"
Abagian said. "I'm not stupid."
He left a message for a second professor, but never got a call back.
Abagian thought he might have started too high. So he dropped down
a step, and went to Horlick High School. A teacher there pointed him
to Park High School's Brian Galley.
Galley invited Abagian to come by during sixth hour on Tuesday. A
friend told him not to wear jeans or a T-shirt, so he would make a
better impression. He put on a subdued Hawaiian-style shirt and khaki
cargo pants. Sunglasses perched on top of his head, nestled into his
unruly black curls.
He stopped at a Citgo station and bought a pack of Newport cigarettes
on the way to Park, to calm his nerves.
Abagian parked his red Jeep in the small lot, careful to choose a
spot that wasn't marked reserved. Abagian couldn't afford to pay a
parking ticket if he got one.
"Let's blow this stand," he said as he got out of the car.
Abagian knows he's taking a risk, even by just talking to a high
school teacher, but he can't pass up the chance.
"Even if there's mild interest it means there's some validity," he
said. "There's no hard evidence, but it all fits and makes sense. I
want this out of my head. For four or five days I was up trying to
figure this out."
Abagian's idea is this: "Gravity is independent and absolute." It is
separate from Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Gravity is, in fact,
the thing that keeps the whole universe in place, Abagian says.
"When the big bang expanded, gravity kept it in place, even then,"
he said.
Abagian is waiting in the hallway outside Galley's room at Park High
School. He's pacing back and forth. It's 12:10 p.m., eight minutes
before the period ends. He ducks out a side door to have another
cigarette. When he comes back in the hallways fill with students.
Galley meets him at the door and invites him inside. Galley sits down
and Abagian starts explaining things. He talks for several minutes
about dark matter and black holes and sunspots. When he's done he
looks at Galley.
"It's a theory that is logical," the teacher said.
Abagian paces through the classroom, up and down the rows of desks.
"Oh my God. Oh my God."
Galley watches Abagian move through his classroom and smiles.
"Nobody knows what gravity is," he said. "I tell my kids the same
thing."
With a boost in his confidence, Abagian tried to figure out what to
do next.
"I'm waiting for the question I can't answer," he said. "I need to
talk to professors so I can get these ideas to where they can be
published. I've read countless books in the past week."
Galley offered Abagian one more book to read, "Just Six Numbers: The
Deep Forces That Shape Our Universe," by Martin J. Rees. Galley told
him to read it, that it will give him something else to think about.
He also told Abagian to write his theory down, and bring it back in.
"Type it up and come back tomorrow," Galley said. "I'm here for the
kids, but I'm here for the community, too."
Abagian said that wouldn't be a problem.
"It's the foremost thing on my mind," he said. "I'm not crazy, am I?"
"No," Galley said.
Abagian promised to get the writing done and bring it back to Galley.
He walked back to the main office, where he turned over his car keys
in exchange for the orange visitor's pass that let him into the school.
As he left Park High School he pulled out his cell phone and called
a friend. She didn't answer, but he left a message, saying he'd done
it, and that he wasn't crazy. He called another friend and told him
about the meeting. His words came fast, and his free hand gestured
as he spoke, explaining how the meeting went.
"Talk to you on the flip side," he said. And he hung up the phone,
started the Jeep and drove off.
"I think I'm blowing myself away," he said. "I'm in a zone. I haven't
been in a zone like this in a long time. I feel lucky. Like I've got
tumblers in my hand and it keeps coming up seven, 11."
http://www.journaltimes.com/nucleus/ind ex.php?itemid=9393
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress