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STARS
Look
at the stars! Look, look up at the skies!
O
look at all the fire folk seated in the air.
(Hopkins, 'The Starlight Night')
Nature
keeps many wonders. But few surpass the silent, glittering immensity
of a clear, moonless night sky. So since November, 'the month for
meteors,' is upon us, and since the great comet, Kahoutek will soon
be the center of much attention, now might be a perfect time to
do a column touting the wonder of the stars as a study worthy of
the attention of any wise young person wishing to gain perspective
through this wonderful subject..
If
I were to suggest one subject guaranteed not only to develop my
children's imaginations, but also to give them some insight as to
their place in the scheme of things, that subject would be astronomy.
As
a boy, I was lucky enough to have a star-gazing aunt. I can still
remember squinting over Aunt Priscilla’s shoulder as she enthusiastically
pointed out various stars and related aspects of the ancient myths
or current astronomical findings which helped bring the magic of
star-gazing alive to me.
“See
that bright orange star?” she would say, pointing up toward
the east. That’s Arcturus the amazing star mentioned in the
book of “Job”. “And that bright blue-white star
overhead? That’s Vega. It’s called ‘the arc light
of the sky.’ And see that beautiful blue dazzler up there
close to Vega? That’s Deneb, the brightest star in the northern
cross. Isn’t it curious that there are crosses in both hemisphere’s?
Perhaps God wanted everyone to be able to see a cross, since, according
to the Bible, Jesus helped God in the laying out of the heavens.”
And
so it would go. I don’t think I really saw half of the wonders
Priscilla pointed out–it’s hard to see where someone
else is pointing–but even as a little boy, I was awed by the
vastness and glory of the heavens.
I’m
sure those early sessions with my aunt were what caused me to decide
to take up astronomy when I was in the 8th grade. But
I also had the good fortune to stumble upon a book that made my
learning of the constellations really easy. It was one of the Little
Golden Nature Series called simply, “Stars.”
That
book used the brilliant concept of showing in golden dots the constellations
for each month on a light blue background with a dark blue drawing
of the thing represented behind the golden dots. That way I could
imagine, (thanks to the picture), the lion, or king, or serpent
the stars of each constellation were supposed to represent. The
more scientific star maps just had dots connected by dotted lines
and looked nothing like the things they were supposed to represent.
With the Little Golden Book, I was able to learn just about every
constellation visible within a very short time.
I
can still remember my first discovery using 'Stars.' It was Cassiopia,
The Queen. I was astonished that the big 'W' was there, right where
it was supposed to be in relation to the Big Dipper, the only constellation
I knew to start with.
After
that, discovering new constellations became sort of an obsession.
And by morning (I stayed up all night) I was able to name nearly
all the constellations then visible without the book! I was hooked
for life.
Since
then the stars have become my old friends, and have served as sky
marks putting me in remembrance of many things that happened to
me under their influence. For instance seeing the Plaedes low in
the east always brings to mind the old farm where I grew up and
could stand on the front porch and see that little micro-dipper
twinkling just above our barn in the fall of the year.
And
I never see Leo the Lion without picturing Peterson’s Butte
in the Oregon of my high school days, and the Lion twinkling just
above the crest of that fir-scented mountain, while The Platters
sang, 'Heavenly shades of night are falling; it’s twilight
time.' and my mind swam with the wonder of the beautiful girl who
had shared my first dance at the sock hop that same magical May
night of my junior year.
And
I never see Orion, the hunter, without thinking of the countless
times I walked home from pin setting on sub zero North Dakota nights
with only the wonder of the skies to give me warmth. And speaking
of warmth, one star even reminds me of the lovely and matchless
lady I was blessed to marry. “That fair-haired lady of the
evening,” Venus–still brighter than all the rest and
I’m Sirius, always reminds me of my beautiful Audrey.
Is
it any wonder I am high on the stars. People without them live with
a huge hole, a black hole, in the skies of their lives right where
that radiant gleam of hope should be shining. No wonder so many
are depressed! How can they 'choose something like a star/ To stay
their minds on and be stayed' as Robert Frost says, if they have
no star they can call by name?
If
I had anything to say about a required set of “must take”
courses, Astronomy would be one of them–right their beside
music, and math, and literature and composition. Better toss in
art too; need that to make us observers.
I
would have my kids learn the stars today so they might raise their
sights up to a higher goal than kids aim at today–not heaping
up money, or winning fame or power. But aspiring to things “high
and solitary and most stern.”
I'd
like them to be able to read the lines, 'Deep calleth unto deep,'
and sense in their spirits what the psalmist was talking about.
Lord,
show your little ones the stars again, so that they may be able
to answer the infidels with but one simple and faithful reply. 'But
my God made the heavens.'
*This
column first appeared in 1979, but I've added to it here with the
benefit of hind sight and I hope a little wisdom.
Gene
Pinkney
9/29/06
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