Sky & Telescope January 2003 [antikvár]

The GlazeChris Alper discovers an odd zoological phenomenon that occurs all too often when he's around.I once read that many animals have clear nictitating membranes that snap over their eyes to shield them from dust and wind. I have now confirmed that this protective membrane, in fact, exists in humans as well. To see it, you simply need to say more than six words about your passion for astronomy to family, friends, or colleagues. Then watch "the Glaze" appear in their eyes snapping down as quickly as any lizard's eyelids in a sandstorm.My 6-inch Dobsonian in the sunroom most often evokes this phenomenon. It's no giant by our avocation's standards, but to most nonastronomers it looks like a huge, black monolith capable of Hubble-like performance. Passing through on their way to the back patio for a barbecue, they exclaim, "What a big telescope! What can you see in it?"At first, afire with my private discovery of numerous Messier objects and easy, lovely double stars, I'd launch into a detailed description of my first glimpse of M57. I'd wax poetic about its gossamer strands of supercharged gas and relive the triumph of spotting a tiny, fuzzy white ring the apparent size of a Cheerio.It'd take me a moment to come back to Earth, and then I'd notice the fixed smile, the wandering eye (toward the food, usually), and the hmm-you-don't-say conversational niceties. The Glaze had claimed yet another face. "So," they'd say, "What's your sign?" or "Is the Moon really made of cheese?" (Chuckle, ha ha.) I'd smile the same smile you wear when someone steps on your foot and you're trying to stay polite and change the subject.In time, I learned to keep my defenses up. I refrained from describing the wild excitement and breathtaking joy I felt when, squatting in dew-covered grass on a sweltering July night, cooking in the insulated denim coveralls necessary to ward off the clouds of fierce Minnesota mosquitoes, I saw at last the brilliant, glorious sphere of diamonds that is M13.No, to the curious I'd say only, "I like to look at stars. The challenge then became fighting the urge to share my observing experiences with friends and family. In this case, the Glaze takes the form of an affectionate but blank expression, and (since I am lucky enough to enjoy their love and forbearance) attention that might even last a couple of sentences, complete with replies. "So how is the stargazing going?" "Great," I'd reply, followed by a silence during which my latest celestial jewel would swim sud-January2003 | Sky Telescopedenly and perfectly focused into my mind's eye. "Have you seen anything new lately?" Boom! The defenses come down."Actually, I've been able to get way out into the Virgo Cluster. You see, it's difficult because there are so many galaxies in one place, but I've been able to star-hop. I have a beautiful new 18-millimeter eyepiece; it's got an apparent field of 67°, which is cool because " and my voice trails off. The family member is smiling benevolently, but her attention has shifted. A loud crash from the back bedroom provides her means of escape, as she wonders aloud if any of the youngsters playing there have managed to maim themselves.The final form of Glaze is the ultimate deception. These days, now years into my passion, I will occasionally meet someone who says he too likes to stargaze and even has a telescope."You do?" I exclaim. My heart warms to solar-surface temperatures as the conversation shifts from real-estate prices to my favorite subject. "What kind is it? You like deep-sky or planetary stuff?" And then, to my amazement and a bit of embarrassment, the Glaze appears. But that can't be possible! This person professed himself to be One Of Us."Mine's a 37-inch," he'll say. "I got it at a department store. The stuff I see in it doesn't look anything like the picture on the box, though."Uh-oh. But here, despite my disappointment, there is hope, even potential. "Well," I begin, "you might want to try looking through another kind of telescope. Actually, I'm in an astronomy club, and we have these star parties "I have at long last learned to keep the inner voices at bay, sheltered from everyone except my colleagues of the night anonymous, friendly voices and dark outlines who walk the grassy, dewy fields and parking lots, the deserts, and the nature preserves of North America. There, cradled in the bosom of the night, I can talk until dawn in the secret cant of our sect: magnitude and magnification, separation and position angle. Free at last among others who feel as I do, there is no Glaze.Minnesotan Chris Alper is on a two-year assignment for a software company in London and Paris, where light-polluted city skies have prompted more contemplation than observation.