I don't remember my exact words when Richard brought home his first telescope, about 20 years ago. But I imagine my response was either, "What is that?" or "Where did you get that?" It was, he told me as he placed the red tube on the table, a telescope, and he had picked it up in a trade with a buddy of his. He was quite happy with the trade too -- he had exchanged an old car stereo for the telescope and a Dalmatian dog (the dog, it turns out, wasn't really part of the trade, but was just hitching a ride to what would become his new home).
I am pretty sure when he showed me that telescope, that Richard got "The Look." Although I didn't know it at the time, Richard had always wanted a telescope. And now he had one. It was a Newtonian design, a cardboard tube with a built-in eyepiece and an aperture of about 4 and a half inches. Maybe he took it out that night for a look at the moon. Maybe he even took it out more than once. I can't really recall, since I didn't see the attraction of it myself. But if he did take it out, it wasn't more than a few times. Richard was young, always busy with one thing or another, and the red telescope eventually ended up in "the junk room" with other unwanted and unused objects.
It was a few years later, when cleaning out that room that I came across that telescope again. "We'll just see how well this thing works," I thought, and I took it outside. Now bear in mind that I knew absolutely nothing about telescopes, so I can honestly say the poor little red tube never stood a chance. What do you think you can see through a 4.5" cardboard Newtonian telescope in the daylight, holding it in your hands? I can tell you what...NOTHING! The instrument got only that one trial, and with its failure, I concluded that it was just a piece of junk. Into the trash it went.
I forgot about the red telescope, but apparently Richard never did. Last year, we were watching some TV show about space, and he said, "I used to have a telescope. Whatever happened to it? I've always wanted one, even when I was a kid." And I had to try to defend myself and tell him how that red telescope wasn't any good anyway -- that I knew it wasn't because I had tested it out one day -- and finally confess that I had thrown it away years ago. I could tell he was disappointed, but he never mentioned it again. But it was Christmas, and with that, I had my chance for redemption. I suggested that maybe he might like to get a telescope, and we decided that he would shop around to see what kind he might want to get. A week or so later, he placed his order for an Orion XT10i.
It was a long one-week wait, and when the scope finally arrived, Richard wasted no time in laying out all the pieces and getting started on the assembly. Compared to the little red tube, the slick and shiny Orion telescope was a monster! It was like replacing your '78 Pinto with a shiny new Corvette! We named the telescope "Newton" -- an original name, right? (It's consistent with our naming the Oscar fish "Oscar.") Richard couldn't wait to get it out for a test drive! He took it outside, sighted in the finder on a road sign and then waited impatiently for nightfall.
As newbies, I will readily admit that we knew almost nothing about the night sky. We did know a few of the constellations -- shapes and names that we had learned as kids -- but that was about it. We didn't even know the names of any stars to use to align the Intelliscope controller. So we started out just pointing the telescope toward something and trying to find that something in the finder. I think we looked at the moon a bit. Richard hmad seen some pictures of M42 on a website and suggested we try to find it. He pointed the telescope toward the constellation Orion and scanned the area with the finder. He stopped moving the scope. When he looked through the 25mm Plossl eyepiece, I heard him utter what has become a very familiar phrase. "Wow..."And he was right. The sight was nothing short of breath-taking. Over the first few weeks, Richard took Newton out many more nights, but every session included (and usually concluded) with another look at M42. But slowly we learned the names of different stars (although I wouldn't put money on our pronunciation!) and we learned about other targets in the winter sky. Galaxies M81 and M82 were found just over the treetop one night. The great Andromeda Galaxy, M31, was already so low in the sky early in the evening that it was difficult to see, but we searched for it and found it. Galaxy M51 is not a good winter target, but we searched for it in the glare of the streetlight below the hill. When we finally found it, we were the victors! The dim "car headlights in the fog" galaxy couldn't hide from us!
Winter gave way to spring, spring to summer, summer to fall and with each season, Richard and I learned new names, and saw new and wonderful things in the night sky. Now winter is here again, and when I walk out into the cold dark night and look up at the stars shining so brightly overhead, I can't help but feel a special fondness for what I see there. The stars and constellations have become like old friends, passing overhead, each in its own season. Orion the hunter, Taurus the bull, the Pleiades (known to me in my childhood only as the seven sisters), the brilliant star Sirius, Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper...I feel like I know them, and therefore they must know me. Looking up into the night sky -- looking and understanding -- I think one can't help but be astounded by the immensity of it all, and appreciate just how profoundly unique, and incredibly special is our place in the universe.
Little red telescope, your legacy lives on.
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