Where to begin?

Can't believe I found my way back here after a couple weeks. And maybe the bigger surprise is that I was motivated to add another post! Especially since I haven't decided what this blog is to be about. More than likely, I'll make it about my hobby: backyard astronomy. But from which angle this time?

In the old days and for decades, I called myself an amateur astronomer. However, I don't see it that way anymore. I learned the names of the 25, or so, most important stars for finding my way around the heavens throughout the year, and I became familiar with the most important constellations and asterisms. It took me about a year to figure out which "stars" were Jupiter and Saturn. Eventually, I found out about the 18th century comet hunter Charles Messier, and I learned that there are so-called "deep-sky objects" to find and observe with my telescope.

But learning the stars and constellations and using my own backyard telescope to find and look at deep-sky objects didn't make me an astronomer—amateur or otherwise. Sure, I enjoy the beauty of the night sky and looking at star clusters, nebulae, and galaxies with my telescope, but that is not science, in any way, shape, or form! I do not investigate or solve mysteries. I do not contribute to the body of science that is astronomy. I'm neither a mathematician nor a physicist. 

I'm only a telescope user, an observer, and an amateur photographer, at best. With the added benefit of being knowledgeable enough to identify the brighter stars and constellations. I think the most accurate word for me is "dedicated skywatcher."

Some people may prefer to call this conglomeration of interests "amateur astronomy," but only for the lack of a better descriptive phrase. For many years, in fact, I confused my love for the night sky with a "passion for astronomy." I did, after all, practically eat, drink, and sleep all things astronomical. I read books and magazines about astronomy, occasionally set up my telescope in the back yard to view celestial targets, and I became friends with other backyard astronomy enthusiasts. But, no, when it came right down to it, what I had thought was a passion for astronomy is more correctly described as an obsessive-compulsive love of the night sky. It's a need and an unbreakable habit. 

When I walk outside at night, I absolutely must look up at the stars. And when I recognize the first one, I go through a routine of using it as a jump-off point to locate all the other stars I know by name. For instance, if the first thing I see is the Big Dipper, I am not satisfied until I "follow the arc to Arcturus and speed on to Spica." I use the Pointer Stars of the Dipper to find Polaris, and if possible, keep going to the other side to spy Cassiopeia. Or if mighty Orion, the Hunter, is high in the sky, I'll trace out the great arc of the Winter Circle and then follow the Belt stars out to the Hyades and the Pleiades. If Pegasus is my first sighting, I'll draw the imaginary lines down from each side of the Great Square to verify Diphda and Fomalhaut are where they should be. Then I'll follow the stars eastward from Alpheratz to check the visibility of the Andromeda Galaxy, and then westward from Markab to find Enif, the nostril of the Horse.

I have to follow this routine of stargazing every time I go outside. I need to do it. I can't not do it! Interestingly, I've noted by watching people leaving a building at nighttime, that they typically don't look up. Their eyes follow the path ahead, perhaps to their parked car in the parking lot. But if you ever spied on me as I leave a building at night, the first thing you'll see me do is look up to the stars. I may even turn around and walk backwards as I look for the moon and planets. Part of my purpose is to see whether or not the sky is completely clear or only partially clear. But the primary reason I do it is to make sure the stars and planets are all still in their places and that I can remember what I learned long ago. There is some kind of calming reassurance that I get out of this routine. I can't explain why it's reassuring and soothing. I only know that it is.

To further demonstrate my obsession with the stars and constellations, some time ago I noticed an agitation I was feeling during the daylight hours and on cloudy nights. When I go out during the day or on a cloudy night, I look up at the sky and desire to know which stars would be visible if they were not drowning in daylight or hiding behind the clouds. 

My agitation with not being able to see the stars on these occasions was happily solved by obtaining a sidereal clock and placing it on my desk next to my computer monitor. Now, even when I'm inside my house, I can visualize the star patterns above my roof by looking at the local sidereal time. Before going outside on a clear night, I can glance at the clock and know what to expect when I get out there and look up at the night sky.

For instance, taking a quick look at the sidereal clock when local time is 11:45 AM in mid-November, I can see that sidereal time is 15:00. It's comforting then, for me to know that, if I could see the stars right now, I'd find the Northern Crown overhead, with the Kneeler beside it, and under him, Ophiuchus.  Libra and the Scorpion are a little lower in the south, approaching the meridian, and Arcturus is now past the meridian. Corvus the Crow is leaning over to the west. I know this because not only did I learn the constellations, but I also roughly learned their associated hours of Right Ascension.

This night-sky knowledge of mine has become useless and obsolete in our times. What I can do in my head from memory, having lived it for more than 40 years, can now be done by a youngster on her smartphone, with zero knowledge of the stars and constellations. She only needs to be careful that her phone's compass isn't confused by nearby metallic objects. Sometimes a phone needs to be calibrated before it correctly shows you the night sky.

But even more to my point about how using telescopes and being familiar with the night sky is not scientific, I would bet money in Vegas that if you asked your professional astronomer friend, "What time is it on your sidereal clock if the Twins are on the meridian?" you would be greeted with a blank stare. 

The professional astronomer doesn't care about star names and constellations. She need only give the coordinates of the objects of her study to the observatory, and they will schedule an appropriate date when her targets will be well placed in the night sky to acquire the data. But she can talk circles around me when it comes to black holes, exoplanets, and the relativistic jets in active radio galaxies. (**Yawn!**)