Dr. Robert Agnew (shown above sitting atop an ancient Mayan observatory
in Mexico) is a Professor of Music and Humanities at Edison State
College in Piqua, Ohio. Born in Youngstown, Ohio, Robert has a Masters
Degree from Bowling Green State University and a Ph.D. from Michigan
State University.
The Joy of
Night Sky Journaling
When
I was nine years old I received a telescope for my birthday. It came
with a small book on astronomy with tips of what to look at in the
night sky. Among the book’s suggestions was keeping a log of
what was observed. I did that, and my log survives to this day.
When
I look at it, I see the galaxies, planets, nebulae, etcetera, that I
observed as a child, but the log does not bring back any vivid images.
Likewise, when I received a child’s weather station on my
eleventh birthday, with accompanying weather book, I duly kept a log of
atmospheric pressure, temperature, humidity, dew point, wind speed,
clouds, and even ventured into forecasting. But once again, the log
does not recreate the experience.
When
I was twelve, I played football in school, and decided to keep a
journal. For the next six years, I chronicled every game I played,
sometimes using as many as ten pages to bring an individual game back
to life. Consequently, when I read that journal, my mind pictures vivid
images of the game, my friends, the coach, and I can see everything so
readily in my mind’s eye that it is almost like being there -
a piece of my growing up, preserved for my family.
When,
years later, I decided to chronicle the night sky again, I modeled it
on my football journal rather than the terse format of my childhood
log. The detail of each observation is still there, but it is
accompanied with enough verbosity to bring the night back to life. In
2004 I was fortunate enough to take my family to the Big Island of
Hawaii. Reading the journal of my astronomical work there also brings
events with my family back to my mind, as well as the magnificent sea,
the mountains, and the people of Hawaii.
Here
is an example from the opening of my December 10th, 2004 journal:
“The
Big Island of Hawaii is the home of the W.M. Keck Observatory - the
largest telescope in the world, as well as a number of other telescopes
operated by teams from Great Britain, The Netherlands, Canada, France,
Japan, and The United States (owner of the Keck Observatory). They are
on the top of Mauna Kea, a mountain which rises 13,796 feet above sea
level. From its base on the ocean floor to the summit, it is the
tallest mountain in the world. At the 9,200 foot level is a visitors
center: the Onizuka Center for International Astronomy, which offers
spectacular views of the night sky.
Tímea,
Guillaume, and little Gabriel came with me in our little rented Dodge
Neon, up the notorious Saddle Road (not for the faint-hearted), to the
steep climb up the mountain to the Center. Part of the way up the
mountain we entered a cloud, and I feared that it would still be there
when we got to the Onizuka Center.
It
was slow driving through the mist, but suddenly the cloud grew thinner,
and soon we were watching the cloud fading away below us. Binoculars in
hand, a Celestron 15x70, I was searching for the barred spiral galaxy
Caldwell 72 (NGC 55), the “Southern Pinwheel
Galaxy” - Caldwell 70 (NGC 300), and the binary beta 1
Tucanae.
We
got to the Visitors Center just at sunset, and as the sky darkened a
new, rarely observed sight came into view: the Heavens of our Ancestors
- the sky as they knew it before light pollution changed the heavens
and we forfeited our right to one of the most spectacular sights in the
universe - the Universe itself! To see the stars at nearly 10,000 feet
is a phenomenon - and the Milky Way, appearing as a vast star-cloud,
rules the sky.
It
is as if someone had turned on a holographic image of the night, for
the myriad of stars appeared three dimensional, and I felt as if I was
in their midst - a tiny planet wandering in the great depth of space
and time. The Gemini Meteor Showers were also on, and I managed to
observe a “burner” moving slowly across the night
sky, radiating green, red, and blue sparks.”
This
is just the opening of the journal for that night. It goes on for a
full seven pages. My Night-Sky journal already contains over a thousand
pages, and in it are sights that may never come my way again.
©
Article & image Dr. Robert Agnew 2008/2009
