Sky and Telescope - May 2012 - (Page 86)

Focal Point Thomas Watson With My Own Eyes Visual observing is still worthwhile even if it doesn’t contribute to science. I’m sometimes asked why I spend time observing things that professional astronomers have studied for so many years. The ﬁrst instance occurred not long after the Apollo 11 landing. My father came outside to see what I was up to, puzzled that I would still be so interested in looking at the Moon with my 60-mm refractor. After all, hadn’t I seen all the pictures sent back to Earth? I have no recollection of how I responded; I can only hope I had the answer for him then that I give now. Why bother? After all, these celestial objects have long been cataloged, many not long after the telescope was still a new and paradigm-shattering invention. Years of patient study have since revealed the truth behind much of what the ﬁrst telescope users saw. Why go to the trouble in this day and age to peer into the night with a relatively small telescope at these thoroughly characterized (if not quite fully understood) celestial objects? Surely the days in which amateurs equipped with such instruments could make a contribution to science must be long gone. Of course, this is not true, and pro-am astronomy projects are alive and well. Dedicated and well-equipped amateurs continually make contributions to science (for example, see the March issue articles about Epsilon Aurigae). Some writers refer to this as making “meaningful” observations. But most of us will explore the night sky and never add a single data point to any scientiﬁc endeavor. My observations don’t lack meaning simply because they don’t advance the cause of science; such was never my intent. I bought a telescope because I’ve discovered that seeing these things for myself is deeply satisfying. It’s like taking a trip to the Grand Canyon. Would anyone seriously support the notion that such a wonder isn’t worth a visit simply because it’s so well known? The same thing holds true for viewing the Orion Nebula (M42) in the eyepiece. Countless people have observed, studied, and recorded it using every technique and in every wavelength available. But I still study it myself each winter. It doesn’t matter that others have seen it before. The best picture postcard of the Grand Canyon will never replace standing on the rim and gazing into it with your own eyes. Nor does it matter that the nature of the Orion Nebula has already been determined, any more than the Grand Canyon can be said to have lost its wonder because we know what those layers of rock tell us about the depths of time. I need to see these things for myself. That was true when I studied the Moon in my youth, and that need has grown stronger as I’ve grown older. All the photos, sketches, and images cannot replace the feeling of seeing for myself shadows cast by lunar mountains, or the diamond-dust glitter of a globular cluster. The depth and beauty of the universe gain a new level of meaning when you take the time to see things for yourself. For me, that’s reason enough to spend time at the eyepiece. ✦ Thomas Watson is a freelance writer, naturalist, and amateur astronomer living in Tucson, Arizona, right next door to some very dark and often clear skies. 86 May 2012 sky & telescope © BIGSTOCKPHOTO.COM / ANDRUSHKO GALYNA http://www.BIGSTOCKPHOTO.COM

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Sky and Telescope - May 2012

Sky and Telescope - May 2012
Table of Contents
Spectrum
Letters
75, 50 & 25 Years Ago
News Notes
Saturn’s Raging Superstorm
Stars Above, Earth Below: Astronomy in National Parks
The Remarkable Case of Comet Lovejoy
In This Section
May’s Sky at a Glance
Binocular Highlight
Planetary Almanac
Northern Hemisphere’s Sky
Sun, Moon, and Planets
Celestial Calendar
Exploring the Solar System
Deep-Sky Wonders
Going Deep
S&T Test Report
New Product Showcase
Telescope Workshop
Planetary Imaging with Your DSLR Camera
Gallery
Focal Point

Sky and Telescope - May 2012