focal point

Focus on Young Astronomers

keep a newbies interest is a solid, affordable telescope
and a little of your time.

believe one of the greatest contributions an amateur

can make to astronomy is to inspire and encourage future
astronomers. Ive always enjoyed showing the heavens to
friends, neighbors, and perfect strangers. But I receive the greatest satisfaction whenever I hear the excited voices of boys and
girls viewing the Moons cratered surface or Saturns incredible
rings for the very first time.
One can become interested in astronomy at any age, but
these days it probably helps to be a grownup. Sadly, given the
cost and complexity of many of todays telescopes, too few
youngsters can hope to acquire or operate their own backyard
observatories. Manufacturers really ought to address this
rather sorry situation by offering more affordable, quality telescopes designed with young people in mind.
For example, I was introduced to astronomy in 1963, when
my parents gave me a well-made, 3-inch reflector for my 11th
birthday. Produced by Edmund Scientific, it sold for $29.95
(about $160 in todays dollars). The scope first caught my attention when I
noticed a fullpage ad in Sky
& Telescope. The
copy was enticing: See Saturns rings, the
planet Mars,
huge craters on
the Moon, phases of Venus, star
clusters, moons
of Jupiter, double stars, nebulae, and galaxies! What kid
wouldnt want
to see such wonders with his or her own eyes? I equated that
telescope with a rocket ship, ready to carry me on my very
own space adventures to the Moon, to Mars, and beyond!
I guess I should have been disappointed, but I wasnt. The view
through my 60 eyepiece wasnt exactly what I had been expecting. Mars was just a tiny orange ball, and finding double stars,
nebulae, and galaxies proved to be quite a challenge in Chicagos
heavily light-polluted skies. But the Moon and Saturn were fabulous! And Jupiters moons put on quite a show as they shuttled
back and forth from night to night. Moreover, with their little reflector the folks at Edmund packed a wonderful booklet titled
How To Use Your Telescope. It painted a more realistic picture of
what I could actually see through a 3-inch telescope, and it of-

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December 1997 Sky & Telescope

fered many useful observing tips. In short, I wasnt inspired to become a professional astronomer. But I was hooked on astronomy.
That was then, and this is now. Do todays kids have an interest in stargazing? Would an affordable telescope attract
them to astronomy? Or perhaps the question should be: Given
the spectacular color images of stars and planets available electronically, how can the view through a small, backyard telescope be anything but disappointing?
Manufacturers can probably answer those questions with
dozens of marketing surveys. It seems likely that many youngsters are at least interested in space. The continued popularity
of Star Wars and Star Trek proves the point. On the other hand,
I remember the latters exhibit at the Smithsonian a few years
ago. Kids stood in long lines to view imaginary space artifacts.
But then they passed right by the real artifacts (from Apollo) on
their way out. It seems the adventures of Kirk, Spock, and
McCoy are more exciting than those of real astronauts.
Lets face it: Most kids arent all that excited about astronomy per se. But I believe its important to encourage those who
are. In particular, its important to teach them the basics. I had
a friend who bought a very nice 60-mm refractor for his nineyear-old. Father and son had no problem finding the Moon,
but finding the planets was another story! After several frustrating nights, the telescope was quietly put away and forgot-

RICH HARRINGTON

As William F. Mellberg sees it, all it takes to get and

ten until I took the time to show them how to read a star
chart and to find the planets themselves. More important, I directed them to a couple of good, introductory astronomy
books texts that even the youngster could comprehend.
After a few more tutorial sessions, my friends son started to
develop a genuine appreciation for stargazing. The more he
saw, the more he wanted to see. And while the images in his
eyepiece were smaller and less colorful than the ones on his
computer, he discovered the thrill of locating distant planets
and nebulae using a planisphere and his own two eyes. Hes a
few years older now, and astronomy is competing with basketball and girls for his attention. But he still enjoys pulling out
his telescope and exploring the universe from his backyard.

1997 Sky Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

An affordable, quality telescope was that boys ticket to the

stars. Beyond that, all he needed was his own imagination and a
little encouragement. Thats why I urge all astronomers professionals and amateurs alike to welcome new members into
our fold. Give some boy or girl the greatest gift of all: your time.
William Mellberg is the author of Moon Missions: Mankinds
First Voyages to Another World (Plymouth Press, 1997).

A Torch Passed
Who will be the next generation of amateur astronomers? Jim Brock hopes to see his son among them.

have always enjoyed telescopes because they provide

a wonderful metaphor for bridging unimaginable distances.
Take a glance at the Moon, and you have immediately traversed a quarter million miles; a peek at the Pleiades instantly
spans 2 million billion miles. Such quick and easy travel comforts me because I am a thousand miles from my seven-yearold son, Carson, a distance that sometimes seems as impossible as light-years to cross.
Last March, however, Carson was able to visit me during his
schools spring recess. Because Comet Hale-Bopp was making
its appearance and because at my sons age I owned my first
telescope, I went to Sears to buy a cheap starter telescope.
Such purchases are difficult. When you are divorced, separated
from your son, you naturally want each moment shared with

him to be special, a seed for a memory he will have that will

somehow remain throughout a lifetime. But you also want to
avoid the problem of buying a childs affection or making up for
lost time through material offerings and appeasements. Thats
why I chose Sears and not the store just four miles away that advertised over 300 Meade and Celestron telescopes in stock. I
didnt want a telescope with the pretensions of refined optics and
near-perfect resolution. I wanted nothing more than a Tasco or a
Bushnell, and I wanted to buy it from a clerk who didnt know
the difference between a reflector and refractor.
Of course, I knew what I was really buying: something of
my past, something that had to do with my first 100-power
Tasco StarGazer and with my own star and planet ledger that I

kept through adolescence. I was also buying an opportunity to

reveal to Carson my own expertise. With this telescope, I could
give him the astronomical facts almost everyone knows: that
comets are dirty snowballs, that they do not streak through the
sky like meteors, that everything fainter than 6th magnitude
lies beyond naked-eye vision. And all this would come under a
clean night sky at my cabin in northeast Pennsylvania that he
could never have at his home in Nashville, Tennessee. I could
give him the Milky Way and shooting stars.
My son had no choice the first clear night of his stay with
me. We went outside, right at 8:00 p.m., duly looking northwest. I waited for him to point out the comet for me, and he
did. Then he began reciting the facts his teacher had provided:
Hale-Bopp is 25 miles across. Hale-Bopps tail is 2 million
miles long. Hale-Bopp is farther from us than the Sun. I
confirmed each one, then added a few comet facts to his litany.
He stood patiently during the minutes it took me to align
the telescope on the comet, and he didnt seem to mind much
when I told him to be careful and steady when looking through
a telescope. I knew my plans were working when he said, Cool,
Dad. C-o-o-l, as he studied the comets fuzzy image.
Later, I found the Orion Nebula for him, just so that I could
direct him to something subtle and inconspicuous and marvelous. I wanted to show him a part of the heavens that I knew
he could own someday and show off to his friends or to his
own child. While he was looking at its extinguishing glow, I professed all I knew about the connections between a nebula and a
comet, throwing in my own improvised ideas on cosmic dust,
solar winds, hydrogen gas, and light. I knew even at that time
that I was completely missing the point, as I was trying too hard
to come up with material beyond the scope of any
elementary school teacher, trying to come up
with anything that had the promise of endurance to it. Such are the distortions that
distance and separation cause.
I went on with my lecture until he
took control of the telescope, aiming it
at the gaudy gibbous Moon. A little disappointed over his being attracted to such
an ostentatious celestial show, I was at least
happy that he was revealing his own interest in the
sky. I touched his hand to the focus knob, saying,
This is where you focus.
I know, Dad. And I knew what that meant, for
what boy hasnt said those words to his father
and continues to say those words through
adulthood? What boy hasnt felt exasperation over a fathers insistence to father? And
what can a father do then but get out of the way, retreat, and
go inside the cabin to give the boy his own chance at discovering sights no one else sees? I must admit that I left him there,
feeling sorry for my sorry self.
What happened next is, of course, what happens with children and their magical talents of recovery and delight. And it
reminded me of the real power of telescopes. Carson burst
through the door minutes later, excited, urgent, pulling my arm
with his entire weight. Come out, Dad! he pleaded. You gotta
see what I found! And I did, and I do.
I am first a poet, notes writer Jim Brock, who has since left the
dark skies of rural Pennsylvania for Miami, Florida.

1997 Sky Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

Sky & Telescope December 1997

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