The Final Frontier

I sat in the enormous University Auditorium in anxious anticipation. The building was filled to capacity and there was a large-crowd murmur of voices. At any moment, the keynote speaker would come out and we would see something never seen before in human history.

When I was eight years old, I looked over the rail of our second-story apartment at the 3/4 full summer moon. I wondered what it would look like through binoculars; I was astonished. I saw mountains, craters, valleys, and the gray “oceans,” all in sharp relief. I had no idea.

That sparked my lifelong interest in astronomy. After our house was built in the boondocks, far from city lights, I would be out with my dinky, wobbly telescope, swatting mosquitos long after my family went to bed. I learned all the constellations the fun way, with overhead star maps and a flashlight covered with red tape to preserve night vision.

At Florida, all my electives all involved science and astronomy. Our class used the university’s 8″ telescope and I couldn’t get enough. I became friends with the professor and picked his brain about astronomical stuff.

So when it was announced that the famous astronomer and Pulitzer-prize winning author Dr. Carl Sagan was coming to give a presentation, I couldn’t wait.

Until that time, the best photos of Jupiter…400M miles away…were grainy, over-magnified blobs devoid of all but the largest features. Dr. Sagan was going to be showing pictures taken by the Voyager 1 space probe as it flew close by.

The lights dimmed, and the great man stepped onto the stage with applause. After a 15-minute presentation, the curtains opened. Dr. Sagan clicked something in his hand and there was a sharp inhalation from the crowd as an image of our largest planet filled the screen.

It was like looking at satellite pictures of earth, only Jupiter was ten times larger, and its clouds were arranged in belts of yellow, orange, beige, white. Delicate swirls, like cream stirred in coffee, bled from one belt to another. The Great Red Spot–a massive storm 10,000 miles wide, first noted in 1831–was seen. The images left me entranced.

Years later, I found myself with seven other dads and our eight daughters at the UNC Observatory. It was a frigid February night and our Indian Princess tribe was there to peer through the university’s telescope.

It was as though the clock had turned back to when I was eight; only this time, I was not only getting a much better look at the moon, my eight yo daughter was with me and I had the privilege of introducing her to the cosmos.

Jupiter happened to be visible and we looked at that. I told the kids that if it had been a little larger, it would have become a small sun. I asked them what that would be like and it prompted an excited 8yo discussion.

Time flew by. Kari is now in her twenties and Voyager has long since left the solar system. A staggering 15 billion miles away, it’s sailing through interstellar space. Sail on, silver girl.

A job I’d do for free? I’d be a cosmic ambassador, like Dr. Sagan. I’d encourage people to look at the night sky. I’d let groups of 8 yos look with wonder through a huge telescope and tell them that something we made is so far away, it takes light almost a full day to reach it.

If I ever have grandkids, I know what I’m going to get them for their eighth birthday 🙂