By Jack Smith
We huddled on a small hill at the highest point of an otherwise flat campus just after sundown, our eyes fixed on the sky. It was a crisp and clear autumn night.
A distinctive amber light, brighter and different than all the other stars, soon painted the sky above and behind us. And then it was gone.
It was the International Space Station hurdling across the big Texas sky at 17,500 miles per hour. Somehow, it appeared to be going no faster than the trains that rumble by near the campus of the clinic I called home for 21 days.