I Took the Gare Challenge

The challenge was simple, yet difficult. Spend 15 uninterrupted minutes under the stars, doing NOTHING ELSE. Alone. All 15. Just looking at the stars. And then write down your impressions. And the guarantee? Well .. you would remember it all your life. How is this possible though, how could 15 minutes of NOTHING be memorable? Maybe its because there IS no nothing in our lives anymore. No reflection. No meditation. No listening. Really listening.

I hadnt planned on taking the challenge as I went out in the predawn night on Wednesday, April 18. It was cloudy, depressingly so, but as I walked toward the barn aimlessly I looked up suddenly .. and it was clearing! Right then I knew .. it was challenge time. I have an observatory llooking west where I am wont to watch the sun set whenever I can. Its my stonehenge, I watch the sun go down far south and far north throughout the year. It sits under a 30 foot pine I planted as a baby 20 years ago. It has a clear view of the horizon. My observatory is a chair. A chair I sit in and observe the heavens. Does that surprise you? My eyes are spyglasses, therefore my observatory can be a chair. To be continued

Birds
Wind
Dawn
Purity
Distant sounds
Restlessness
Constellations

Time Traveller by Patrick Thibault (from Issue 22)

As of late, I have found myself forgetful and wondering what happened a few days ago, or even the week before. Unable to place my finger on any cause or factor, I stumble through each moment in hope of remaining somewhat conscious of my time. Time seems to be the key element involved in my disorientation. There are so many types of time, especially if you have any interest in astronomy: solar time, Greenwich Mean Time, sidereal time, and lunar time to name just a few, not to mention our Central, Eastern, or Mountain time.

I have learned that in order to discover the source of a problem, questions must be asked. I ask now, what time is it? My watch indicates that it is 10:15 AM, April 12, 1995. It is approximately 22 days past the first day of spring, however, there is fresh snow covering the landscape and clouds prevent detection of the sun. Outside of my south facing window, Jack Frost has created a handsome winterscape, but it is no longer winter. Spring, with its greening, rain, and Daylight Savings Time is here. And I know from looking at the night sky only a week ago some of the constellations of Spring were seen: Leo, Arcturus in Bootes, and Spica rising in the northeast. But my most recent S&T told of planetary positions in May, which I had received at the end of March, possibly this was the source of my confusion. Could it be that my reality, which consists of many time frames, be unadjusted to magazine time?

After patting myself on the back for such brilliant scientific inquiry, I began to go through my file of magazines. Indeed, I found an association among all astronomy literature. Astronomy Magazine followed S&T’s delivery rate, they were ahead of time as well, May in March, January in November. Even SGN, when I first joined, delivered May in March. There appeared to be a common time element - Magazine Time (MT). I called local Astronomy club members to see if they too received astronomy materials in MT. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, but the mechanism was still unknown. I had read ‘The Time Machine’ by HG Wells, so it was possible. Could the postal service have a time machine? Certainly with the costs of stamps going up over time there was reason to believe that a machine of this sort would not be cheap.

Please fellow SGN’ers. I would appreciate a word in the mail (but do not date it) if you experience this time disorientation as well. Perhaps only some of us are susceptible to this oddity, but I feel that I’m probably not alone.

Thank you.

Take Your Time by Brent Landry (from Issue 16)

As I sit gazing at the ghostly arm of the Milky Way reaching across the heavens, I ponder one of life’s greatest mysteries -t hat of human nature. The guests are gone now, along with their disenchanted spirits. I, to say the least, am perplexed. As usual the guests arrived enthusiastically, speaking of how relaxing an evening under the stars can be. They approached the telescope prepared to explore the celestial frontier and thus began the evening.

At first we observed at a relaxed pace, reeling in the romance of the night sky. The guests soon found themselves caught up in the moment and begin asking to see more and more. First this, then that, then something else. Observing quickly took on a furious pace, the telescope rocking on its axis as it swung to and fro and the focuser grew warm. So went the evening, until the guests finally grew weary. Gone was the romance, gone was the enchantment. The guests were somewhat disillusioned, claiming there was little left to see in the night sky. Did this come as a surprise to me? No, it didn‘t. In truth, little really had they observed at all other than a continous spinning of the scope, accompanied by a rapid succession of eyepieces. Indeed, if they would have taken the time to focus their attention as well as the eyepiece, they would have found the fulfillment that they sought

So here I am. Gazing at the stars yet pondering human nature. I ask myself, would one rush to the bottom of a glass of fine wine? Or impatiently await the end of soul stirring music? Would one not rather enjoy with leisure each morsel of fillet mignon. Or bask in the sun at springs first warm breath? Why then would one rush through an evening of observing. In doing so, one misses all the detail that must be paid for with patience. And one loses the awe and curiosity that moves us to strive deeper into astronomy. Without this awe and curiosity, we lose not only interest, but also our sense of adventure. Indeed, without awe and curiosity the scientific spirit would surely die.

Let us then take our time at the eyepiece. We are explorers, and to explore effectively we must do so slowly. In order to further my appreciation for the image being observed, I reflect that the photons I am seeing have traveled light years in order to be collected and funneled into my very soul by the small portal into which I gaze. In fact, were it not for my small telescope waiting patiently to collect those photons, they would be lost. Wasted. Spilled upon the ground like a glass of fine wine, never again to sweeten the visual palate.

The Lightning Raid

It was my day off, and they were predicting a dusting of snow... I couldn't sleep but it was only 3:30 AM .. no worries, up and make coffee! Now as a planetarium builder/owner/operator, any dark is good dark so out I went into the early March blackness. The wind howled as a few frozen pellets pelted me. In the planetarium, I was testing new lighting arrangements. A planetarium builder doesn't see the same sky every time he flips on the switch - he endlessly experiments with light sources, positions within the star cylinders he has collected/built ... so the sky varies, just like the real one. After 30 satisfying minutes, I began to return to the house for another cup..

But now it has cleared! The brief front gone, I see Scorpio stalking the southern horizon .. the stars of summer pushing themselves up above the eastern rim of the world .. I halt my return, divert into my behind-the-barn laboratory 'Menlow Park', and in 30 seconds my small short field refractor is deployed. A wall of clouds can be seen slowly spreading from the North, but I spend the next 10 minutes viewing the unexpected starfields. Saturn swims into view.. Antares.. I view stars, not just clusters and galaxies. How many amateurs just look at famous stars? Probably none I muse, except me. We look at forests, but ignore the trees sometimes.

Im cold now, I hadnt planned on an outdoor adventure, the coffee awaits, yet I managed in less than an hour to recharge my planetarium batteries, I got my observing fix, and its only 5 AM. Time to make another pot...

Being In The Game

My son was on his Middle School basketball team, not because he was much of a player, but because he wrote a letter. He didn't play much, but he once told me, that didn't matter. He got in a time or two. He was in the game.

After having missed the cut, he'd written the coach and thanked him for the chance. Told him he was just excited about contributing anything to something he thought was worthwhile and exciting. The coach put him on the team anyway. He was in the game.

And so it has gone with me and amateur astronomy. A childhood passion. An adulthood yearning in the backseat. But for so many years, if I couldn't do it right, I wouldn't do it. No big telescope, no observatory, no driving to dark sky sites as in my youth, why do it. Light pollution. Late nights, plenty of excuses. So I started writing letters to the coach, alot of other people did too. We were each others coaches in the Spyglass Network. We didn't want to start, but we still believed in it, it was worthwhile or had been. It had been exciting.

So finally one day I found a little telescope at the thrift store, but it was a little more special than the standard old junked refractor. It had a standard eyepiece diagnal. A short focus. A sturdy little mounting. I could add a simple finder. I knew somehow when I saw it .. well, the coach was offering me a spot on the team.

I could play a little. I could be back in the game. On terms my life could accept now, just pulling it out for a quick view of Saturn, or the moons of Jupiter, or any number of old sky objects lodged in my memory. So I started again. And it felt good. And somehow all those problems with it, well I didnt have to be good at it. I was just on the team somehow again. I was in the game!

Look At All Of Them - A Short Story

‘Which do you like better, your planetarium, or your telescope?’

My Sis had asked the question peering into my eyes, and as usual I had no answer at hand.
‘I like them both’ ,said I, but she had a ready rebuttal। ‘The problem is‘, she intoned, ‘you can’t use them both at the same time, so one is always sitting!’ Somewhat taken aback by this revelation, without thinking I retorted, ‘oh yes I can, and I’ll show you!’ So eager was I to come up with some way on the spot to use them both, I dragged my little scope under the planetarium dome and switched on my ancient Spitz A2. Stars immediately sprang to life on the dome. But Sis was unimpressed. ‘I like your stars’ , stated she, ‘but your telescope is useless in here.’ ‘Oh no its not!’ , said I, and I swung it around and pointed it

toward a blank spot on the dome, off the tail of Leo, which was gleaming in the Spitz projected spring sky। ‘Just look in here, young lady!’ I said, realizing I had no plan, no way of winning the argument। I’d been stalling for time, and time was almost up I thought ruefully, as my sister bent down and peered into the eyepiece of my tiny spyglass, pointed toward the Realm of the Galaxies, or where it was in the real night sky। She murmured something and played with the focus a minute। And let out a gasp! ‘Look at them! Look at ALL of them!’ , she whispered, and I was afraid she’d gone too far this time, playing me for a fool, leading me on, calling my bluff। Nudging her aside though, I was startled to see, swimming in the eyepiece, innumerable faint wispy spiral pinwheels, gauzy lights in a dark blacker than ebony॥ Convinced she had been wrong, Sis kissed me on the cheek (which I hated) and simply said, ‘OK, you CAN use your telescope in the planetarium’, and out the door she went। I turned back to the eyepiece to look again, but whatever we had both seen was gone - now I saw only the smooth dome surface with a few projected out of focus stars। Dumbfounded, I spent several more minutes staring at the old Spitz projector, silently beaming out a thousand or more stars। Many years have passed since this occurrence under the dome, and it has never been repeated। But I smile to myself when I think back on it, especially when on that night long ago, just before I shut off the Spitz’s light - I will never be sure, it may have just been a momentary power interruption ॥

But I had the distinct impression that just for a split second, the old projector had winked at me …॥

Why I Like Small Scopes by Roger W. Gordon

My first telescope at age 11 in 1952 was a small 30x40 spotting scope, and like many budding amateurs I dreamed of owning a larger one. In 1956 I got a 2.4" refractor just in time for the Mars opposition, but it wasnt long until I wanted an even larger scope. In 1961, I got a 4" Unitron, and 1962 added a 6" Criterion reflector. Marriage occured in 1963, and our first home in 65. In that year I also obtained an 8" F7.5 reflector, and that is when my quest for alarger scopes came to a halt. It weighed over 160 lbs and thermal currents often ruined the images. A chore to set up and take down, I gradually lost interest in it and slowly started losing interest in the hobby.

A friend of mine in our club who worked for Questar came up and showed me his instrument. I marvelled at how much detail it showed, and in 66 I sold the 8" and bought a Questar. After that I gradually added more scopes, but never more than 6" aperture. As of today, I've owned more than 50 scopes, refractors, reflectors, and catadioptrics. Presently I have 16 scopes, all ranging from 2 to 4.5 inches aperture. They take up far less space than one or two large scopes, are easy to set up and use, have good to exclennet optics, and are less affected by seeing problems. Pennsylvania is not known for Arizona type skies either in clarity or steadiness. I enjoy using these scopes and sometimes have 2 or 3 set up at once for comparison.

I collect telescopes now. I look for older classic optics rather thannewer equipment. I have no wish or need to duplicate instruments already in proflific existence. I'm not a crowd follower. Almost all my scopes are altazimuth, and several have no slow motions. Only one, a 3.5" Questar, has a clock drive. I will never own a telescope that has computers or other modern electronics attached to it. I'm a visual observer because eyeball astronomy is first source information. CCDs and video photos are secondary source information. If I want secondary source info I'll open a magazine or buy a book etc. When I'm at the scope, I want the images being interpreted by my eye/brain system, and if I want to record what I see, I'll draw it. I prefer instruments that have a history behind them, not some flashy piece of often overpriced underperforming junk.

Small scopes are not only more efficient in reaching theoretical resolution on a greater number of nights than larger ones, their guide setup time means more observing time and less setup/take down time. And small scopes, if of excellent optical quality, often outperform their larger brethren on mediocre seeing nights when used on the moon and planets. Another aspect of observign with small scopes I particuarly enjoy is proving the authorities wrong on various test objects - that is, seein them with less than the minimum aperture often quoted as necessary. Manufacturers often dont like to sell small scopes because they dont make as much profit on them. Consequently, small apertures are often downplayed to make more profit or higher comessions. Small scopes are also often downplayed for use in deep sky observing, but a look at the drawing doen by John Massas with a 4" f/14 refractor in The Messier Album (Mallas and Kreimer) will show more stars per field than will larger apertures due to the much wider field they cover. The same is true for certain wide angle binoculars.

Small scope sprovide enjoyment far out of proportion to their aperture. Going from naked eye to a 3" scope is a huge gain in what one can see. To obtain a comparable gain, one would have to go from a 3" to a 50" scope. One final thing about small scopes - remember the old saying. Good things come in small packages!

The Season of Miracles by Terry Hauan

From 'Quarter Century', SGN Issue 25

What is a miracle? Webster says its an event or effect in the physical world beyond or out of the ordinary course of things... or an abnormal event brought about by a superhuman agency as a manifestation of its power. If we use that definition, then we are surrounded with a multitude of celestial objects and events that qualify as miraculous by almost any standards. We find for example a vast primeval universe of stars, preserved in their original colorand stare as they were millions of years ago. Why did they not decay back into the void? Why did their original color tones contain a rainbow of colors? Perhaps it is a miracle! And today, the starry universe stands as a natural wonder of that time period too long ago for most of us to comprehend.

Looking elsewhere in the starry universe, we see unusual galaxies and nebula which have required billions of years of evolution. Most notable perhaps is the Great Andromeda Galaxy. Armies of galaxies march proudly across seemingly endless space. Here too is a miracle, for the galaxies are unique to our eye. Two thousand years ago, while Jesus of Nazareth roamed the desert lands of the Mediterranean, the Anasazi Indians built still standing observatories and began a peaceful observing tradition that, in the face of modern technology, poignantly reveals the value of man working in harmony with the universe. And when one stands at the edge of a nebula, a starry nighttime miracle, and contemplates the universe and man, it is a humbling experience. Thus, the Christmas season just passed on Earth has special meaning to us. It is a time to pause and reflect upon the mysteries that surround us. It is the season of miracles.

I would wish that you might ponder these words as only my latest ongoing effort to understand the makeup of our universe and of all its marvelous occupants.

Too Long in the Planetarium

There is a condition that I have run into - it needs a name. It has no name however, but it goes like this .. I created my own stars in my planetarium. Several times in fact. A self contained celestial sphere, I've pointed it this way and that, I've lensed Orion, I've lassoed the Milky Way. I've immersed myself in different ways to project it, to accompany it with legends and music and backgrounds .. I've built skies of varying shapes and sizes. After one long day finishing up my latest planetarium one autumn night not too long ago, as I walked into the house, I glanced up. UP .. UP OUTSIDE .. what a concept What are those things up beyond my yard light I mused .. why, they are stars. The real stars. Had I forgotten them? To be honest, I had forgotten them. Given up on them. Used light pollution as an excuse, or cold, or old age. I had stopped long ago looking up. I had hit a wall in amateur astronomy (more on that later) and retreated inside, where everything was more under control. It hadnt always been this way. Once I avidly read astronomy magazines, networked with people and their telescopes. I never got anything big, always had a spyglass as I called it, but I knew how big the real heavens were. On that night last fall, I remember thinking just for a second - that Big Dippers all wrong - its too big . Then I caught myself. Like the guy in the movie Armageddon I had to remind myself - if you'll pardon the expression - its a bigass sky.Way bigger than I was giving it credit for. In other words, the universe had begun to revolve around ME. And that was wrong. Was I playing God in my own little theater? I hope not, I was hoping to teach and inspire. But I was forgetting my roots. I was forgetting the reason I was projecting stars in the first place. One might put it this way .. its the stars, stoopid. The real ones. So I found a weird little short focus refractor, the way I like to find things. Cheap! And I put in that old 16mm Konig eyepiece from University Optics, and I went out and saw that it was good. It was still good. So Ive been missing half the equation seemingly. A friend had even sent me a slide rule - maybe he was telling me something .. I needed to recalculate my trajectory a bit . Why not?

Two Years Later!

Conditions have finally alligned allowing a modest relaunch of SGN. No hurry!