Goodable

In Livingston Texas, coach Heather Mosser started a program that paired her varsity softball athletes with students who have disabilities. They exercised and trained together for months. This is what happened when she brought the students onto the field to throw the opening pitch. Want more videos like this? Follow us on YouTube and Twitter @Goodable. Tap the share button to send this inspiring story to a friend.

In Livingston Texas, coach Heather Mosser started a program that paired her varsity softball athletes with students who have disabilities.
They exercised and trained together for months.
This is what happened when she brought the students onto the field to throw the opening pitch.

WATCH: These Texas High School Softball Players Help Students With Disabilities Throw The Opening Pitch

USA Today

The surviving members of a Georgia Little League team that made history during the Jim Crow era have been honored at a ceremony in Atlanta.

The Simpson Road Trojans, described by CBS News as “one of Atlanta’s best Little League baseball teams” were recognized for their achievements, decades after they, as the state’s first all-black team, were invited to the Little League World Series.

That dream was dashed due to a false accusation about a player’s age, CBS said, but the players were getting their recognition at Atlanta City Hall on February 16 ahead of the release of a new documentary.

“These young men made history right here in our community, and their legacy continues to inspire generations,” said Atlanta Councilman Byron Amos.

“What started on Simpson Road became a story of excellence, resilience, and pride. We are proud to celebrate their impact and preserve their story,” he continued, adding: “A documentary highlighting their journey is coming soon – stay tuned.”

Georgia's First All-Black Little League Team Honored 64 Years After Making History

The Cool Down

Wildlife rescuer Debbie Nelson, who operates under the name Debbie Doolittle, says she knew immediately that the call she received in September 2025 was unusual. A nightjar, a bird rarely seen in Northern Ireland, had been found behind a trash bin on a Belfast street, the BBC reported.

Nightjars are nocturnal birds with mottled brown feathers, wide mouths, and a distinctive call sometimes compared to a spinning wheel or a wind up toy. They are more common in the southern UK, and spotting one in the north is almost unheard of.

“They were about to put some rubbish in the bin and they saw the bird behind it,” Doolittle told BBC News NI. She believes the bird may have become disoriented and collided with something before ending up on the ground.

For Doolittle, the chance to work with the bird was rare and meaningful. Nightjar populations in the UK have fallen sharply. Insecticides have devastated their insect based diet, and habitat loss has compounded the decline. Between 1972 and 1992, the population dropped by 51 percent, and breeding pairs remain scarce in northern regions, though recent studies show hints of recovery.

That made this rescue especially important. Doolittle and her team cared for the nightjar, feeding it and monitoring its condition until it was strong enough to return to the wild. “It’s very rewarding getting to release something back into the wild and knowing you’ve given it that second chance,” she said, calling the experience a “once in a lifetime” moment.

Other rare bird sightings have been reported in China and elsewhere, offering a glimmer of hope at a time when many species are struggling. For Doolittle, helping this one unusual visitor was a small but powerful reminder of what careful intervention can do.

A Rare Bird Turned Up Behind A Belfast Trash Bin — A Wildlife Rescuer Gave It A Second Chance

Good News Network

Twenty two massive granite blocks that once formed part of the Great Lighthouse of Alexandria have been hauled up from the floor of the city’s ancient harbor, offering a rare look at surviving pieces of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Each block weighed dozens of tons and included pillars, frames, and lintels that once marked the entrance to the colossal structure.

The lighthouse, built under the rule of Ptolemy after Alexander the Great’s empire fractured, guided ships into Alexandria for centuries. It was so well constructed that it took repeated earthquakes over hundreds of years to bring it down. By the 10th century, the last of those quakes sent its stones crashing into the harbor.

For more than a decade, France’s National Center for Scientific Research and Egypt’s Center for the Studies of Alexandria have been mapping and studying the debris field. A major 2014 survey identified about 3,000 blocks and another 5,000 stone fragments scattered across roughly 4 acres of seabed. Each block raised to the surface was photographed from every angle, feeding a detailed photogrammetry database.

That digital record allowed researchers to do something remarkable. With the blocks analyzed in 3D, a CNRS team led by Isabelle Hairy began virtually reassembling the lighthouse. Sophisticated modeling software let them test how pieces might have fit together, using clues like rough or smooth tool marks, chipped edges, and weathering patterns to guide the process. When two fragments appeared to match, they could even simulate what kind of earthquake—its force and direction—might have cracked them apart.

Earth.com reports that the digital reconstruction has grown precise enough to offer new hypotheses about how the monument looked and how it collapsed. The approach captures the cultural blending that defined Alexandria in the Ptolemaic era. Several blocks feature Egyptian imagery carved with Hellenistic techniques. Other granite monoliths appear to have been repurposed from Old Kingdom sites like Abu Rawash, making them at least 2,000 years older than the lighthouse itself.

Descriptions from the medieval period give a sense of its awe. Ibn Jubayir, a Moorish pilgrim traveling to Mecca, struggled to capture the scale. He wrote that the lighthouse “competes with the skies in height,” adding, “description of it falls short, the eyes fail to comprehend it.” He measured one side at more than fifty arm lengths, and estimated its height at more than one hundred and fifty.

Despite the excitement of recovering large pieces, Egyptian authorities limit the removal of stones heavier than 220 pounds. Archaeologists say that after centuries underwater, sudden exposure to oxygen can cause salt crystals to expand inside the stone, leading to irreparable damage. For that reason, once photographed, the largest blocks were returned to the harbor floor.

The 3D reconstruction, however, opens new doors. With enough detail now mapped, researchers believe future visitors could one day experience a full scale digital version of the lighthouse, perhaps even a holographic projection rising above Alexandria’s harbor, echoing the original marvel that stood there for more than a millennium.

For now, the work continues underwater and on computer screens, bringing one of history’s most legendary structures back to life piece by piece.

Archaeologists Lift Giant Blocks From The Ancient Lighthouse Of Alexandria, Rebuilding Its Story In 3D

Artnet

New York audiences are about to watch Titanic like they’ve never seen it before. Starting Friday, Cristin Tierney Gallery will screen an ambitious shot-by-shot remake of James Cameron’s 1997 blockbuster. The project began more than a decade ago as a handmade experiment by Chilean artist Claudia Bitrán and eventually grew into a sprawling collaboration involving roughly 1,400 people.

The work, Titanic, A Deep Emotion, is making its New York premiere. Bitrán stitched it together using drawing, painting, performance, sculpture, and a healthy amount of lo fi ingenuity, including stop-motion submarines in the opening scene. “I really love to make work that broad audiences outside the art world can relate to, understand, or follow,” she said over the phone. “I adore this film. I love James Cameron’s craft. I think it’s really a perfect film that has aged really well.”

For Bitrán, the movie has been a lifelong touchstone. Like many, she first saw Titanic as a preteen and was instantly absorbed. Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio’s doomed romance aboard the ill-fated ship became an enduring cultural force. Bitrán, who has long centered pop culture in her work, knew the story by heart and decided it was the perfect vehicle for a wide ranging, playful deconstruction. “I’ve seen it a million times,” she said.

She set firm rules for the remake. She would play Rose. Jack and all other characters would rotate among performers of any age, gender, or background. All special effects had to be handmade, often with recycled materials. Dialogue could unfold in any language. The constraints kept the project flexible as she worked across the U.S., Mexico, and Chile, and they helped her reshape the film’s emotional beats.

Using multiple Jacks became one of the project’s most striking decisions. When Jack stops Rose from jumping, Bitrán cast actor Rosalie Lowe to underscore the idea that Rose could save herself. In the “door scene,” Jack is played by Bitrán’s 10 year old cousin, shifting the dynamic to something closer to a mother and child, heightening the loss.

Bitrán stepping into Rose’s role also echoed her earlier project reenacting Britney Spears music videos with handmade sets. Taking on another performer’s identity, she said, created a sense of empathy. “Kate Winslet was criticized for her body at that time and I had a similar body type,” she said. “I felt for her and I kind of lived through her, through that criticism, in the same way I lived with Britney through hers.”

The handmade universe around her includes painted backdrops, cardboard furniture, recreated artworks, improvised environments, and even an inflatable version of the ship. Sometimes Bitrán would encounter a real location that reminded her of a scene and would stage an impromptu shoot. “It’s kind of a collage,” she said.

The result is intentionally rough around the edges, the opposite of Cameron’s sweeping, big budget spectacle. But the ragged charm is part of its pull. It dismantles the grandeur while showing how deeply the story still resonates. After 12 years of production, the project became its own kind of epic.

The installation in New York spans three video channels and is accompanied by props, paintings, storyboards, still images, notes, and other material documenting the scale of the undertaking. The film had its European premiere at Kiosk in Belgium last year. Bitrán is also working on a documentary about the decade long process and is seeking financial support to complete it.

Her connection to the film, she admitted, is unlikely to fade. “Even though the movie’s done, I think that I’m still going to be this person that lives through that movie. I’ve seen the world this way since I saw it when I was 10. It’s like the thing that will always be there,” she said. Then, almost without realizing it, she echoed the film’s most famous line. “I feel like this is something that I’ll never let go.”

Titanic, A Deep Emotion runs at Cristin Tierney Gallery, 49 Walker St., New York, from February 20 to March 28, 2026.

Artist Debuts A Shot-By-Shot, DIY Remake Of Titanic In New York

CTV News

A wedding dress with a story stitched into every seam is now on view at the Cradle of Aviation Museum in Garden City, where visitors can see a rare Second World War era gown made from a U.S. Air Corps parachute. The dress, on display until Sunday, was created from the silk canopy that Lieutenant George Braet believed had once saved his life.

Braet brought the unused parachute home after the war. It had never deployed, but he was convinced it stopped a piece of flak from striking him during a mission over Hitler’s Europe in February 1944. Later, when he married his bride, Evelyn, in 1945, she chose to have her wedding dress made from that same parachute.

“It represents their love. It represents my mother’s ingenuity, my mother’s creativity; silk was so rare,” their daughter Kate Braet of Bay Shore said. “And at the time of the pictures of it was white, white silk. Just absolutely gorgeous in her wedding pictures.”

Lt. Braet flew 53 missions as a B17 bomber pilot, navigating enemy fire throughout the European campaign. His family believes the parachute’s fabric quite literally kept his future intact. “Their legacy continued because of that piece of silk,” Kate Braet said.

The couple went on to raise five children across the United States, including in Hauppauge. Their grandson, Ben Steelman, said their resilience shaped the generations that followed. “They encountered obstacles that we really can’t imagine and they put on a good face and they always saw the silver lining and they always saw the brighter side and kind of kept things moving,” he said.

At the museum, the dress stands among aircraft and space memorabilia, but its story is what gives it weight. “The museum is all about stories and it’s all about people. We do have 75 planes and spacecraft, but it’s more important about the people that flew it,” said museum president Andrew Parton.

The gown is a reminder that even after war, love can take the remnants of survival and turn them into something beautiful. Visitors can see it through February 22, and museum curators say they plan to bring it back for future exhibitions.

A WWII Parachute That Saved A Pilot’s Life Became His Bride’s Wedding Dress. Now It’s On Display On Long Island

Talker News

When Cody Brewer slipped into her grandmother’s 1957 wedding dress last year, it fit so perfectly that she immediately knew it had to be part of her own wedding. What she didn’t expect was how deeply the choice would connect three generations of women.

Cody, 27, married her husband, Kellen Brewer, 30, on Sept. 28 in Siena, Italy. Her grandmother, 90 year old Mary Ann Perry, couldn’t travel to the destination wedding. So Cody decided to honor her in the most personal way she could think of. She transformed Perry’s gown, tucked away in a closet for decades, into a modern minidress for the reception.

“She was shocked that I even loved it, and deeply touched by the idea,” Cody told PEOPLE. “Breathing new life into her dress felt like the most intimate way to carry her with me on our wedding day.”

That bond runs deep. “Honoring her felt especially important to me,” Cody said. “We share a deep bond, and she has always been a constant, meaningful presence in my life.”

After trying on the original gown and finding it a perfect fit, Cody knew she had to wear it somehow. Perry fully supported the plan. “She left me the sweetest voicemail, telling me she couldn’t stop thinking about the dress, how impressed she was by the idea, and how much she couldn’t wait to see photos,” Cody recalled. “I still listen to that voicemail all the time.”

With her grandmother’s blessing, Cody brought the dress to a local seamstress experienced with vintage pieces. The redesign took about six months and moved slowly by intention. They first experimented with a high low look, then gradually shortened the skirt until the final silhouette felt right.

Cody loved everything about the original gown, from the floral lace and drop waist to the delicate back buttons and the soft, yellowed hue that carried nearly seven decades of history. The bodice stayed mostly untouched, while the skirt was trimmed to mid thigh and shaped with a bubble hem for a round, playful finish.

Her inspiration came from trying on a modern mini bubble hem dress during her search. “At some point it clicked: why not take this already meaningful, beautiful piece and transform it into that look instead?” she said. “Turning my grandmother’s dress into something playful yet still steeped in history felt far more personal. It felt timeless, intentional, and unmistakably me.”

At the reception, Cody said she felt like “a dainty vintage bride.” The lighter dress made the night easier to enjoy after wearing a ceremony gown with a heavy train. “It struck the perfect balance between romantic and playful,” she said. “Slipping into something lighter and more comfortable made dancing feel effortless and joyful.”

Her family loved the idea from the start. The dress had been stored for years in her mother’s closet, and seeing it revived meant a great deal. “Giving it a second life felt incredibly special to all of us,” Cody said. “Knowing that something I wore on my wedding day carried so much history and intention, and wasn’t something that could ever be bought from a store. It was truly one of a kind.”

More than 130,000 people have liked a TikTok video Cody shared documenting the transformation. The dress, once nearly forgotten, is now part of a new chapter.

Baby Giraffe Eugene Charms Toledo Zoo Visitors With Adorable Tuft Of Hair

People

Ukrainian skeleton athlete Vladislav Heraskevych, who was banned from the 2026 Winter Olympics after wearing a helmet honoring athletes killed in the Ukraine Russia war, has received a major financial boost from a prominent Ukrainian businessman. The gift, worth 200,000 dollars, is intended to help him continue both his sporting career and his public advocacy.

Rinat Akhmetov, one of Ukraine’s most influential business figures, announced the contribution this week. He said he wanted Heraskevych to have the means “to continue his sporting career, as well as to fight for truth, freedom and the remembrance of those who gave their lives for Ukraine,” according to the Associated Press.

“Vlad Heraskevych was denied the opportunity to compete for victory at the Olympic Games, yet he returns to Ukraine a true winner,” Akhmetov said. “The respect and pride he has earned among Ukrainians through his actions are the highest reward.”

The amount mirrors what a Ukrainian athlete would have received from the government for winning a gold medal at the 2026 Games. Akhmetov’s statement added that the support is meant “to ensure the athlete and his coaching staff have the necessary resources to continue their sporting career and their advocacy for Ukraine on the international stage.”

Heraskevych’s clash with Olympic officials became one of the defining stories of the Milan Cortina Games. His grey helmet carried images of about two dozen Ukrainian athletes killed since Russia’s invasion began in early 2022. “Some of them were my friends,” he told Reuters. The athletes depicted included weightlifter Alina Peregudova, boxer Pavlo Ishchenko, and ice hockey player Oleksiy Loginov.

The International Olympic Committee said the Ukrainian delegation had been informed that the helmet violated rules prohibiting political demonstrations. Heraskevych wore it anyway during his next run. Two days later, the IOC banned him from competition. Photos later showed his father, who is also his coach, breaking down after learning of the decision.

Heraskevych responded with a brief message on social media, calling the penalty “the price of our dignity,” written in both Ukrainian and English.

The ban ended his Olympic campaign, but the gesture from Akhmetov ensures his work will continue, on and off the track.

Ukrainian Skeleton Racer Banned From Olympics Uses $200K Gift To Continue Advocacy

China’s decades long push to surround the Taklamakan Desert with trees has delivered something no one fully expected. The manmade forest belt, planted to stop sandstorms from swallowing grasslands and farmland, is now acting as a carbon sink, drawing measurable amounts of CO2 out of the atmosphere.

The Taklamakan is one of the most hostile places on Earth. Known in antiquity as the “sea of death,” it sits farther from any ocean than anywhere else on the planet. Massive mountain ranges, the Himalayas, the Pamirs, the Tian Shan and the Altai, wall it off from moisture. Vegetation is nearly nonexistent. Deserts cover a third of the Earth’s surface but hold less than one tenth of the world’s underground carbon stock. That makes them poor candidates for absorbing greenhouse gases.

In 1978, China set out to change that. The Three North Shelter Belt program aimed to plant a protective ring of trees along the Taklamakan’s borders to stop its sands from overrunning nearby communities. By the time the project finished in 2024, an estimated 66 billion trees had been planted, earning the nickname the Green Great Wall.

The greenery did exactly what it was designed to do. It cut back sand creep and protected agricultural land. But it also did something else. The tree line boosted rainfall by several millimeters, enough to spark seasonal growth and photosynthesis. That extra growth began capturing carbon at a scale no one had clearly measured until now.

A study from NASA and Caltech used satellite data to show that even a desert as extreme as the Taklamakan can be transformed into a functioning carbon sink. “We found, for the first time, that human-led intervention can effectively enhance carbon sequestration in even the most extreme arid landscapes, demonstrating the potential to transform a desert into a carbon sink and halt desertification,” study co author Yuk Yung told Live Science in an email. Yung is a professor of planetary science at Caltech and a senior research scientist at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

The numbers tell the story. The average carbon content in the desert air has dropped from 416 parts per million to 413 ppm. For comparison, the global average today is 429.3 ppm. Before industrialization, it was 350.

Tree planting alone will not solve the climate crisis. Atmospheric CO2 levels continue to rise, and there is only so much land available for forest cover. But the research suggests something new. If shelter belt style projects can reclaim even a fraction of the desert land now sitting idle, they could unlock vast new areas for carbon absorption.

For a region once defined by sand and silence, the idea that it could help cool the planet is a shift no one saw coming.

China’s “Green Great Wall” Is Doing More Than Stopping Sand. It’s Pulling Carbon From The Air

Science Daily

Ocean waves carry one of the largest steady supplies of renewable energy on the planet, but turning that motion into electricity has been harder than it sounds. Most devices work only when the sea behaves a certain way. Once conditions shift, performance drops. That gap has sent researchers looking for something more adaptable.

A researcher at the University of Osaka decided to test a different idea, a gyroscopic wave energy converter, or GWEC. The study, published this month in the Journal of Fluid Mechanics, examined how well this design could scale up to real power generation.

The hardware looks simple at first. A floating platform carries a spinning flywheel inside it. When waves move the platform, the flywheel reacts and produces electricity. Because the flywheel behaves like a gyroscope, the system can be adjusted so it keeps capturing energy across many wave frequencies instead of relying on one perfect condition.

The physics at the center of the design is gyroscopic precession. When something spinning fast gets pushed, it shifts at a right angle to the force. In this case, waves cause the platform to pitch up and down. The spinning flywheel responds by changing its orientation through precession, and that motion is tied to a generator.

"Wave energy devices often struggle because ocean conditions are constantly changing," says Takahito Iida, author of the study. "However, a gyroscopic system can be controlled in a way that maintains high energy absorption, even as wave frequencies vary."

To see how far the idea could go, the researcher modeled the system using linear wave theory. The analysis looked at how the waves, the floating platform, and the gyroscope all interact. From that, ideal operating settings were calculated, including how fast the flywheel should spin and how the generator should be controlled.

The result surprised even the researcher. When tuned properly, the GWEC can reach the theoretical maximum energy absorption efficiency of one half at any wave frequency.

"This efficiency limit is a fundamental constraint in wave energy theory," explains Iida. "What is exciting is that we now know that it can be reached across broadband frequencies, not just at a single resonant condition."

Simulations backed up the model. Tests in both frequency and time domains showed the device keeping strong efficiency near its resonance point. More detailed time domain simulations added nonlinear gyroscopic behavior to check for limits. Even then, the system held steady, performing best when the device's motion lined up with the natural rhythm of the waves.

The takeaway was straightforward. By fine tuning the flywheel speed and generator controls, engineers can build wave energy systems that handle a wider range of conditions. That flexibility is something the sector has always struggled to achieve.

As researchers look for renewable energy sources that are steady and predictable, tapping the power of the ocean remains a tempting possibility. This study offers a clearer picture of how a gyroscopic design could help make that possible.

Story Source: Materials provided by The University of Osaka.

Could a Spinning Gyroscope Unlock New Ocean Wave Energy Potential?

Norway’s men’s curling team stepped onto the ice in Cortina d’Ampezzo on February 17 wearing something fans had been hoping to see again for years, the iconic red, white and blue “fun pants” that became a global hit at past Winter Olympics.

The bold trousers were first made famous in 2010 by Thomas Ulsrud’s team, a group whose playful swagger helped turn curling into must-watch entertainment at the Vancouver Games. They wore them again in 2014 and 2018, but after Ulsrud died of cancer in 2022, the tradition stopped.

This year, the idea of reviving them lingered as soon as the current squad qualified for the Milan Games. Magnus Ramsfjell, 28, said the thought was “in the back of our minds,” but the team hesitated. “It was Team Ulsrud’s thing,” he said. They wanted to respect that.

So they asked Ulsrud’s former teammates directly. The answer came back without hesitation. “Of course, if you want to go for it, go for it.”

What followed was a compromise everyone felt good about. One game only. One moment to honor Ulsrud and the entire team that built the tradition. “Wearing the fully Norwegian outfits out there on the ice, that would be just amazing for all parties,” Ramsfjell said.

He also acknowledged why the pants mattered beyond tribute. “It’s something about curling being a bit silly, and then people showing up looking a bit silly. I feel like it’s a perfect synergy.”

For Ramsfjell, the gesture carried emotional weight too. He called Ulsrud “an incredible guy, incredible curler” whose “passion for curling is something that I wish everyone can try to carry forward.”

The night also featured a familiar face on the other side of the sheet. Sweden’s Niklas Edin, who competed against Ulsrud in 2010, could not resist a joke. Seeing the Norwegians step onto the ice, he called them “four clowns coming up and down the ice.” But the affection was real. Ulsrud’s team, he said, were “some of our best friends for the better part of two decades,” and the current Norwegian curlers are “the same to be honest, super nice personalities.”

“We always had a good laugh,” Edin added. “Fantastic memories with those teams.”

The pants were loud, bright and a little silly, just like they were meant to be. They also said something quieter. A teammate gone too soon is not forgotten, and a curling tradition built on joy still has room to grow.

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