My father instilled in me my fascination with the stars. He gave me my first telescope, a small Newtonian reflector, when I was nine and taught me the names of several constellations and asterisms. He would bring home books on astronomy, the Pioneer missions, and the history of spaceflight. I would spend hours pouring over the books, and hours looking up at the sky at night.
I was 13 years old in July 1982. Dad and I had planned to stay up late to watch the lunar eclipse that was to start at midnight on the sixth. I was excited because this was to be the first time I would see a total lunar eclipse. I wasn't too keen on spending long times out of doors at night, though. I was scared of the dark, or, more specifically, the wild animals that lived in the woods around our house. I took comfort in the fact that I would not be outside alone after midnight.
Dad died of a heart attack on July 2nd. It was a bit of a shock to the family. I forgot about the eclipse during the days that followed--there was too much to do and to think about. The one who taught me the most about life was gone. What was I going to do?
I was hiding out in my room to get away from my relatives on the morning of the eclipse when I remembered it. I thought about how much Dad and I had looked forward to seeing it. It didn't seem right not to go look, so I worked up the courage to go outside by myself and sneaked out the front door. It was about 2 o'clock. I looked up and there it was: dark, and blood red. The night was quiet--I don't even remember any crickets singing. And then I felt a strange sensation: it was as if Dad was standing right behind me looking up at the moon, too. Of course, I knew he wasn't there, but it was still a comforting feeling. I wasn't scared of the dark.
I thought about him a lot as I looked at the moon, and began thinking about life, its meaning, and our purpose. I didn't figure anything out, of course, but I think that was the moment when I realized that the sky wasn't just something pretty to look at. It represented something bigger and older than all of us. Whether we lived or died, it all went on. It didn't make me feel small or insignificant. Instead, I came to understand that no matter what happened in my life, things would continue to go on, and that I could face whatever was to come. I think I got a little bit of my father's courage that night. That was my most memorable astronomy experience.
