The asteroid is known by its technical name of 2000 EF116, but also now known as 26586 Harshaw. (See here or here for a listing of all named asteroids; you can search for my name or any other person you know who might have an asteroid named for them.) My rock is a minor piece of debris from an unborn planet that orbits between Mars and Jupiter. It’s not particularly big—about 1.5 miles long perhaps, but big enough that if for some reason it got nudged out of its orbit and headed to earth and hit us, it would hurt like the dickens, wiping out any major city it hit. But not much chance of that. 2000 EF116 has been circling the Sun some 300 million miles out or so for about 3 billion years and is not likely to visit us any time soon.

It was discovered by friend and astronomer Rik Hill of Tucson who runs the Catalina Sky Survey, one of only a handful of telescopes devoted to finding and tracking potential impactors, hopefully giving us ample time to prepare if one is seen coming our way. (Don’t laugh—it’s happened thousands of times in the history of earth.)

Earlier in 2010, I attended a meeting of my club’s sister club, the East Valley Astronomy Club, to witness an observing award presentation to a friend of mine who has pancreatic cancer. At that meeting, there were SIX astronomers present who have asteroids named for them, and here is a group photo of the lot of us:

The astronomers are, from left to right, me (26586 Harshaw), Gene Lucas (17250 Genelucas), Dolores Hill (164215 Doloreshill), Rik Hill (118945 Rikhill), Jennifer Polakis (146268 Jennipolakis) and Tom Polakis (4078 Polakis).

What would happen if all six of these rocks somehow conspired together and decided to bomb the earth? Depending on where they hit, it could be anywhere from really, really bad to disastrous. (Check this link for a good asteroid simulation program.)  But it would not look at all like the drivel put out by Hollywood in such block snoozers as “Armageddon” and “Deep Impact”, two of the stupidest sci-fi flicks ever to roll off the 70mm film reels! A decent simulation of a really big rock (500 km, a huge asteroid) is on You-Tube.

For what it’s worth, every 100,000 years or so we get hit by a rock big enough to wipe out a small country.  The last large impact occurred about that long ago. So we’re due. But don’t go outside with a hard hat on and wait for it. These things are subject to the unpredictable nature of random distribution and we may have another 100,000 years until we’re hit again. But it is comforting to know, isn’t it, that every tick of the clock brings us closer to a sure-fire impact from space? That’s one of the reasons it is a good idea to have your life assurance policy up to date (mine is with Heaven Mutual, sold to me by Jesus Christ).

Note: To see the seriousness of the probability of an impact, see this awesome video on You-Tube:  click here.

WHAT IS A “STAR PARTY”?

You may be wondering just exactly what a “star party” is, especially if you have never been to one. Think of a star party as you would any other party, except that instead of music, dancing, games or food being the focus, the focus (pun intended) is on the sky overhead. Amateur astronomers bring their telescopes and show the public the wonders of the night sky. People are free to mill about and take a peek at the sky through any of a number of telescopes that their owners will have trained on various night sky delights. As they take in the views at the eyepieces, the telescope owners will explain to them what they are seeing and how to get the most out of their view. (There is definitely a technique to seeing faint and ancient light in finely-figured glass!)

GOOD COMRADES

A great star party needs great comrades, and I was blessed this year to share the North Rim with some of Arizona’s finest amateur astronomers. Every year, the Grand Canyon Star Party accommodates guests at both sides of the Canyon—the South Rim and the North Rim. The Tucson Amateur Astronomers Association covers the South Rim while the Saguaro Astronomy Club (or SAC, my club) takes care of the North Rim. (This way, both teams have about the same amount of drive time—roughly 7 hours!)

Steve Dodder (of SAC) coordinates the North Rim events.  This is his third year of doing this and he did a superb job this year of assembling a team of knowledgeable and talkative astronomers to entertain guests at the Grand Canyon Lodge on the North Rim.

The Three Amigos (Ray, Harshaw, Spencer) at Cape Royal (photo: Spencer)

There was a sizeable contingent from SAC, including myself and my two friends, Jimmy Ray and Darrell Spencer. (The three of us combined to rent a cabin at the Lodge rather than camp out in the campground a mile and a half north of the Lodge.) Besides Steve Dodder, there was also Lynn Blackburn, Chris Hanrahan, and Al Steiwing. In addition to these, Tom and Jennifer Polakis helped out a few nights at the Kaibab Lodge, a private facility off National Park land about 20 miles north of the Lodge. There were also another eight or so astronomers from all over the United States, and since I’ll forget some of their names, I just won’t list them by name.

PETS AT THE CABIN

I’ll get to a description of the nightly festivities in a moment, but first, I have to tell you about three furry friends we made at our cabin. One was a chipmunk we named Roscoe. He was a brave little rascal, coming right up to our door step as if he knew we were safe and had food. We gave him none as we did not want to train him to be a welfare case. Several times he tried to get into the cabin while we were there, and each time a flick of the foot or a growl would scare him off.

Then there was Pepe, a brown field mouse. Darrell had his food stored in a cardboard box (Jimmy and I both used sealed plastic containers). We came back to the cabin one day after a day trip in the area and Darrell opened his food box to make a sandwich when Pepe bolted out and scampered away. Darrell almost ruined his shorts, and we laughed so hard, we almost passed out at the high altitude (8255 feet). Pepe had managed to chew through a bag of bagels Darrell had, so Darrell had to toss the bagels. Pepe did not seem to bother us the rest of the week (Darrell figured out a way to store his food in a more mouse-proof way) and we thought we were Pepe-proof. But as we were leaving on Friday, Darrell found more mouse droppings in the bottom of his box, so Pepe must have found a new way to play the role of the 45% of Americans who are on the federal dole.

A Kaibab Squirrel

The third critter of interest was a Kaibab squirrel. These amazing creatures grow only on the Kaibab Plateau in northern Arizona and resemble a cross between a skunk (without the odor) and a squirrel.

(Arizona is a remarkable state. Our geography has created several distinct eco-systems, each isolated from the others by deserts, or canyons, or rivers. So whatever life develops in that eco-system tends to specialize in the environment and can be found nowhere else in Arizona—or the US, for that matter.)

AN ARSENAL OF TELESCOPES

Each day, we kept informal logs of how many people we think looked through our telescopes. (A few actually had manual counters with buttons they could click for each guest.) I estimated about 750 people looked through my 11-inch Schmidt-Cassegrain telescope (SCT) that week. Jimmy, with another 11-inch SCT, logged perhaps 850 to 900, but he was just off the Lodge’s door to the veranda, so everyone who came out of the lodge stopped at his scope first. Poor guy—he gave the same eyepiece speech dozens and dozens of times each night, eventually sounding like a tour guide! He did yeoman’s work!

The Lodge Veranda (photo: Spencer)

Darrell set his 8-inch SCT up next to me and did a brisk business as well, doing SAC proud and providing great entertainment for the guests.

On my other side was Lynn Blackburn with his 8-inch SCT. Between Darrell and Jimmy was Chris with his 80mm Vixen refractor, a high-quality scope with rich wide fields of view perfect for views of the Milky Way from the North Rim. Al was in the second row with his 14-inch Dobsonian and 8-inch SCT, while Steve anchored the back corner with his monster 20-inch Dob. Next to Steve was another 20-inch Dob, and Jim Mahon, a good friend from Los Angeles, had his 14-inch Dob in the other rear corner. Two astronomers from NASA set up a 16-inch DOB, and a couple from Washington set up a 10-inch Dob. There were a couple of other scopes that week, but they were not there the entire week and I did not get a chance to meet their owners.

GUESTS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD

Most of the people at the Lodge were, of course, Americans on vacation, most of who did not know they were staying at the Lodge during the annual Star Party, but were thrilled when they learned of it. But there were also many guests from all over the world (Portugal, Scandinavia, Germany, Russia, France, England, China, Japan, Brazil, Mexico, Australia and Canada). Many of them planned their trips to coincide with the Star Party—it has become that well-known.

On more than one occasion I had to rely on a husband or wife (or parent) to translate for their family members while they were at the eyepiece so they would know how to find and observe the faint light we were collecting for them.

AWESOME SKIES

Having grown up in the Midwest, I was used to murky skies with high levels of light pollution. As a result, I was not accustomed to crisp views of truly dark skies and how the Milky Way could dominate such a sky. The Grand Canyon gave me a whole new perspective on great skies!

8255 feet above sea level combined with the dry desert air of Arizona can make for a window on space that is about as clear as it gets on this planet. When the Milky Way majestically rose around 10:30 pm, at first most people thought clouds were moving in. They were shocked when they learned that the glow as from billions of stars in the plane of our own galaxy, the Milky Way.

Milky Way Rising (photo: Spencer)

Not only were the vast star clouds of the Milky Way plainly visible—so were the things that are normally not visible, the so-called “dark nebulae”. (Astronomer E. E. Barnard discovered over a hundred of these clouds of pre-star gas and dust, clouds that have not yet condensed to form stars, and which do not have any nearby stars to light them up like the “bright nebulae.”) The dark nebulae are hard to see because of the light that is NOT there, but they were easy at the Canyon, tracing out gossamer threads of darkness that laced their way through the star clouds of Sagittarius, Scutum, Aquila and Cygnus.

There was also a wonderful slate of “deep sky” objects (things beyond our Solar System) that are normally considered to be binocular or telescope objects that were also visible to the unaided dark-adapted eye—M13 (the great Globular Cluster in Hercules), M17 (the Lagoon Nebula in Sagittarius), M7 (a wonderful open star cluster in Scorpius), even NGC 7000 (the North America Nebula in northern Cygnus).

Needless to say, with such great sky conditions, the views in the telescopes were stunning.

Saturn was always a big hit, mostly because it was the first thing visible each night, and also because people always seem to be amazed that it actually has rings (as if astronomers projected a slide of Saturn on their lenses to fool people!). Each night, hundreds of times you would hear, “Wow!” or “I can’t believe it’s real!” as people got their first-time ever view of Saturn through a telescope.

One night, we had really good air, so I ran the magnification up to 800x (a very high power for a small telescope), while most of the other astronomers were using 100x to 200x. As a result, Saturn filled about 1/3 of my eyepiece’s field of view and people who dropped by for a peak often gasped or shrieked at the sight! The rings were clearly visible as was the shadow of the rings cast by the Sun on the cloud tops of the gas giant. Also several moons were visible, as well as the shadow of Saturn on the rings BEHIND the planet. It moments of good seeing, the subtle cloud bands could be seen.

One little girl—her name was Katie—was really impressed by the view. She was about 8 years old and had a raspy voice, but when she put her eye on my 800x Saturn, she actually yelled, “Wow, this is the best Saturn EVER!” She then went around the crowded veranda telling everyone who would listen that my scope had the “best view of Saturn EVER” and so I had a line that lasted nearly 2 hours! When Katie’s parents made it to the scope, they agreed that Katie’s assessment was correct.

I was also amazed at how well people who were not trained as astronomers picked up the subtleties of deep sky observing. On several occasions, I showed people either M51 or Centaurus A. M51 is a beautiful spiral galaxy, seen face-on. It is nicknamed “the Whirlpool” (for obvious reasons when you see it). It is almost a twin of the Milky Way, in both size and approximate shape. Centaurus A is a large elliptical (ball-shaped) galaxy low in the summer sky. The neat thing about both of these is that they are undergoing collisions with other galaxies. As I coached people how to observe, they all could see the nuclei of M51 and the interloper that crashed into it about 100 million years ago. Others could clearly see the dark lane of dust that bisected Centaurus A as the giant elliptical (with a trillion suns, five times the size of the Milky Way) was colliding with a smaller flat spiral galaxy (like ours). I pointed out that in both cases, the larger galaxy always wins, and that in M51’s case, the smaller fuzzy patch was a wrecked galaxy, giant M51 having stolen most of its stars when it passed through M51. Likewise, Centaurus A has stolen most of the stars of the poor spiral that wandered too close and will end up a super-galaxy while the shattered hulk of a once great spiral limps away into the darkness of space.

I pointed out to my guests that such a scene had been enacted in the Milky Way several times as our galaxy has gobbled up many interlopers over the billions of years, and that in fact, we were going to be gobbled up in turn by a bigger fish, as M31 (the Andromeda galaxy) is approaching us and will collide with us in about 5 billion years. The outcome will be a super-galaxy and no more Milky Way.

People usually asked at this point if the stars ever hit each other in such a collision, but I pointed out that compared to galaxies, stars are very small and the odds of two stars hitting each other in a galactic collision are about as high as two flies running into each other in the Grand Canyon. Such is the size of space!

A DAY FOR LOOKING BACK DOWN BELOW

As people came to realize, our telescopes are actually time machines, letting them see events that took place millions of years ago. There is something magical about having your retina stimulated by light that began its journey when the dinosaurs were still alive, to realize that this very night, your body is having a chemical reaction with something that began its journey when T Rex was walking the plains of South Dakota!

But we took one day out to look back in time below our feet. We toured the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and were treated to vistas and implications of time that were equally mind-numbing.

Cape Royal and Angel's Window (photo: Spencer)

We went to Cape Royal and then to Point Imperial, two stunning view points on the North Rim. From there, we could see incredible rock sculpture, the rocks being carved by the great flood that created the Grand Canyon some six million years ago. We watched in fascination as the shadows of the clouds played across the dappled rock layers, creating a never-ending kaleidoscope of color and contrast.

Jimmy Tempts Fate (photo: Spencer)

There is just something about geology on this scale that numbs the mind and expands one’s awareness of our place in the scheme of things. That, combined with the panorama over our heads at night, always leads me to a special place of reverence and contemplation.

ARE THERE OTHERS OUT THERE?

Several times, people would ask me during a quiet moment on the veranda if I thought there was other life out there. I replied that as a scientist, I had to say, “No,” because we have found no evidence for it yet. We may someday, but right now, the facts don’t support any form of extra-terrestrial life. In fact, I added, we may be it. Puzzled, many people asked why. When I explained how unlikely it is for random chemical reactions to produce even an amino acid (let alone the thousands of proteins amino acids combine to form, many of which are absolutely vital for life), let alone for that life to survive and give rise to intelligent creatures capable of pondering their place in the universe, I said it is not likely that there is any other intelligent life, and maybe not even any other life of any kind. (Time may prove me wrong as some day a NASA probe finds evidence of microbial life somewhere, but I am not betting the farm we’ll find anything.)

Combine that with the highly unlikely chain of events that had to occur to lead to our existence—a universe that is governed by laws that work in such a way that three generations of stars had to form and rip themselves apart in death to create the heavy elements needed for life… that we live on a planet that is just the right size to support life… that the earth has a molten core that leads to active plate tectonics, which creates conditions perfect for the development of life… that we have a moon that is far oversized for its job (compared to the other planets), and that it formed by an impact from a Mars-sized body about 4 billion years ago in a collision that was at exactly the right angle to form the moon and not destroy the young earth in the process… that we live on the back edge of a quiet spiral arm in a huge galaxy, safe from the deadly radiation that rules the galactic center… that we live in a place where we can look out across the terrible reaches of space and see not only stars, but other galaxies, clusters of galaxies, and clusters of clusters of galaxies… The odds of all this being “just so” by pure random events has been estimated at less than 1 in 10 to the 10,000^th power!

It all blows my mind!

Then I think about the Father who created it some 13.7 billion years ago and wonder in silence at the vast intelligence and wisdom he has to create a world like ours and us in it. There is far too much balance, symmetry, and beauty in this world to be the results of pure random chance. I for one argue that an intelligence beyond anything we can imagine dreamed all of this up, and gave it to us as a gift of the highest love.

That is why I so love this amazing hobby!

Thank you, LORD God, for such an awesome world in which you display your wisdom and love!

Me on the Veranda (photo by William Dellinges)

This event was coordinated by Steve Dodder, a member of my club, The Saguaro Astronomy Club. Steve did an awesome job of coordinating the event. We had large crowds, racked up thousands of views for our guests, and had a wonderful time together as we shared with the common people in the streets views of their universe they did not even know existed.  The only blemish on the week was that Steve’s request for good weather was turned down. We had clear skies only two nights, and partly cloudy or cloudy skies the rest of the time. Still, the people who joined us in the Lodge auditorium for a 30-minute slide show, or on the veranda as it got dark, were enthusiastic, grateful to us for sharing our hobby with them, and full of good questions.

A week-long event like the GCSP-NR is a grueling event for an amateur astronomer, but the payoff comes to us in the expressions of wonder our guests make while at the eyepiece. I was paid richly by hundreds of expressions like “Wow!” and “Oh my God!” and “Holy cow!”  I even had one little Italian girl (maybe 8 years old) who spoke no English peer into my telescope to view M13 . She gasped, turned to her papa, and squealed, “Oh, la bella stellae!”

M13 (Hubble Space Telescope)

In the daytime, we slept late then arose to do what one can do at the Grand Canyon North Rim. I spent many hours sitting on the Lodge veranda gaping at the awesome spectacle of the Canyon.

Looking SE from the Lodge

The Lodge is perched on a narrow isthmus of rock. Just a few feet from the veranda walls the land drops nearly 2000 feet straight down into the Roaring Springs Canyon to the East and the Transept Canyon to the West. I often felt my palms sweat and my stomach tighten as I looked down into these gorges worn by 6 million years of rain, wind and snow.  Others in our group hiked parts of the Canyon; some took day trips to nearby places like Point Imperial and Cape Royal. Others shot hundreds of pictures with their digital cameras, others napped, and still others lolled around in the Lodge.

The group in our campground was a great bunch of people! We had about 10 campsites reserved for us and most of us were from the Saguaro club. But we also had great help from people from Los Angeles, San Diego, Las Vegas, Tucson and points even farther away. One afternoon, two of the couples on our row of sites spontaneously set up lunches for us.  We began with a Mexican buffet at one site, and walked 150 feet to the other site for awesome beef satay with peanut sauce and cucumber relish. (The lady who prepared this was the wife of a SAC member and is from Indonesia.)

Next year’s GCSP-NR is scheduled for June 5-12, 2010. If you are planning a vacation around that time of  year, consider the star party as a great addition to what will be a wonder-filled vacation. But act fast-the Lodge books up almost a year in advance, and the Kaibab Lodge, a few miles north, likewise books up quickly. If you are a camper, the camp ground should have availability up to a few months before the event.

Hope to see you there next year! I can’t wait! Just 346 more days (as of today)!

For a PDF copy of Phoenix’s East Valley Astronomy Club’s Newsletter, which contains a great article on this star party, click here.

Fiske's Awesome Telescope (Photo by Fiske Miles)

In astronomical parlance, we would say that the “seeing” in Arizona is moderate to poor most of the time, but the “transparency” is excellent. In the Midwest, the opposite is true-usually pretty good seeing and moderate transparency.) Fiske’s web site has a wonderful history of building his telescope. (To put things in perspective, if Fiske had built this scope 150 years ago, it would have been the largest telescope in the world.)

Fiske is a true “renaissance man”, a man of many talents, ranging from cabinet making to birding to astronomy to gourmet cooking. He has a voracious appetite for books and is one of the most intelligent and well-spoken people I know.

Fiske drove his motor home out from Kansas City and arrived in Cave Creek on the afternoon of March 24, a Wednesday. (He has put together a really great slide show of his trip at this URL:)

http://picasaweb.google.com/fmiles01/ArizonaAstronomyTrip#slideshow

I had already packed my Honda Element to the gills with my equipment (Celestron C-11 telescope and mount, sleeping gear, cooking equipment, food, water, etc.) and about 2:00 pm we began the drive west to one of Saguaro Astronomy Club’s (SAC) favorite winter/spring sites, “The Antennas.” This site is about 110 miles west of Phoenix off Interstate 10. We arrived well before sunset and had plenty of time to set up and then relax as we waited for the sky to darken.

This hour or so between sunset and darkness is one of my favorite times of day during an astronomy expedition to the desert. As I relax and let my thoughts settle and compose my spirit, I watch with fascination as the Belt of Venus makes its brief appearance. (The Belt of Venus is common in the desert, and  rare in the Midwest. Fiske had never seen it before and was amazed when I pointed it out to him. It is a rather thin band of purplish sky on the eastern horizon that appears for a few minutes after sunset. It is formed by the shadow of the earth extending through the upper atmosphere, so it is not visible for more than a few minutes.) The Belt of Venus is like distant herald trumpets announcing the beginning of a wonderful night of ancient photon-fall from the skies.

Wednesday night was a moderately good night for Arizona-it started out superbly clear, but by midnight, high thin haze began to rob us of the sky’s pristine sparkle and by 2:00 am, the sky was all but suffocated by the tiny ice crystals high in the sky. In the few hours we had of good seeing, I bagged a number of faint open clusters in Puppis and Canis Major while Fiske put his 22-inch Cyclops through its paces, gobbling up faint galaxies, dim nebulae, and other distant wonders of the universe.

Thursday was windy all day (so windy in fact that it almost blew Fiske’s telescope over!), and stayed windy until 10:00 pm that night. During the afternoon, a friend of mine from SAC joined us, Joe Goss. Joe uses a 14-inch Celestron (the big uncle of my scope). We were sitting in Joe’s RV chatting and waiting for the wind to die, which it did not do. So I went to bed. But about 10:00 I could hear Joe setting up his telescope and aligning it on the north celestial pole, when suddenly I heard him and Fiske say, “Hey, the wind has died!” And sure enough, as if someone had hit a switch, the wind was dead. I hopped out of bed and had the C-11 running 15 minutes later. It was a wonderful night of more faint clusters in the southern Winter Milky Way and a gaggle of galaxies in Draco and Gemini for me, and more of Fiske’s telescope gobbling up photons like a huge PacMan on a rampage. Joe was doing his usual thing– searching for LTG’s (little “tiny” galaxies-I can’t use the word he actually uses on a family friendly blog site!).

Our observing site (Photo by Fiske Miles)

On Friday morning, Fiske and I took a short hike around the area to enjoy the incredible beauty and richness of the desert plants in full bloom. The Sonoran Desert is unique in all the world for its moisture (6 to 8 inches a year of rain) and non-freeze climate, so plants thrive in this harsh world and compete fiercely for pollinators by offering up dazzling flowers to any bees in the area.

Friday was the best night of all, and we were joined by two more SACers-Chris Hanrahan and Darrell Spencer. Chris also brought a friend from work, a young man who had never done any stargazing before.

Five Friends United by Starlight: L to R, Steve Kennedy (maker of Fiske's mirror), Fiske, Chris, Joe, and me (Photo by Pat Goss)

Saturday started great, but ended up clouding up between 2:00 and 4:00 am.

We all got in some wonderful observing (Chris managed to bag about 40 galaxies with his 12-inch Dobsonian telescope), but that was really not what made this 4-day safari so fun for me.

What really melted my butter was the quiet industry with which each of us worked during the night. I have been a member of astronomy clubs where the star parties were noisy affairs with folks talking up a storm, laughing, eating and drinking, but not doing a whole lot of observing. But in Arizona, our group is seriously dedicated to collecting radiation that is as old as vertebrate life on earth. We all work on observing “projects” (like Chris’s pursuit of the Herschel 400 observing award, or my pursuit of trying to observe every known open cluster in the Milky Way, a project that is almost completed, or Joe’s pursuit of the LTGs-he has observed 800 galaxies just in the constellation Virgo-and Fiske’s unplanned but very intentional exploration of the sky using Sky Atlas 2000 or Uranometria to find juicy bits of star flesh to consume in his mega-light-eater, and Darrell’s boyish enthusiasm from seeing things he has never seen before and realizing just how far away some of that stuff is).

During our nightly work, we would occasionally call out to each other, “Hey, Fiske, what are you looking at now?” And the reply would come back, “Omega Centauri.” Wow! I have to see this in Fiske’s astronomical naval cannon, so I ask if I can sneak a peek. And like any good-hearted amateur astronomer, Fiske has as many of us as wish to take a look at this awesome globular cluster low on the southern horizon, a star ball of over a million suns blazing away from 18,300 light years away. The meager remains of a once proud galaxy that the Milky Way cannibalized billions of years ago, it is an awesome sight even in binoculars and appeared from The Antennas site as a naked eye glow as large as the full moon!

Or I would invite Darrell and the others over to see a particular tiny but rich open cluster in a dazzling star field, or Joe would let us munch on one of his LTG’s, or Chris would share views he was enjoying.  We never crowded in on each other, but always were polite with each other, seeking permission before copping a view through a friend’s finely-figured and expensive glass.

Often on our desert safaris, we take breaks around midnight to 1:00 am and sit around someone’s RV or campsite and drink coffee or cocoa and snack on food to keep us energized and alert for the glorious hours still ahead of us. We talk of our views so for far the night, and what we hope to see yet, and then, of course, tell astronomical “war stories” and discuss the latest developments in eyepieces or software. Often, we will hear the lonely and painful sounding yelps of coyotes way off in the distance, or gasp at the appearance of a sudden bright meteor.

I have heard it said that God does not deduct from a man’s life the hours he spends looking at the heavens. If that is true (and I suspect it may be) I should live to be 130!

To all my star-gazing brothers and sisters everywhere, I bid you peaceful nights, stunning views, mind-numbing realizations of what you are seeing, and many extra years tacked onto your lifetime for all the hours you spend bathed in pre-historic radiation. May your skies be clear and tranquil, your eyes fully dilated, and your heart made light by the Light from above!