Introduction
Until I was in the 9 th grade I had spent most of my life on a farm 17 miles from the nearest town. Growing up in the country was at times uneventful, but never boring. My brothers, Don and Larry, older sister, Norma, and I were free to explore and discover the richness our farm and the surrounding area had to offer. We found arrowheads every time my step father would disc or plow a small hay field, we discovered a cool spring that ran the year around, located a wonderful sycamore tree just perfect for camping under and never had to leave farm. My brothers and I spent almost every day of the summer fishing and paddling a flat bottom boat up and down the Illinois River. We were allowed to explore, wander, and have fun if we obeyed mom's number one rule: we were to take care of each other and we were to be home before dark. Never once did we stay out after dark and Don made sure we took care of each other. Getting home before sunset was always a given.
Sunset was my favorite time of day. Even on the hottest days I knew as soon as the Sun began to set a cool breeze would come up from the river or down the holler from the hills in front of our house. The frogs would start calling to each other, Whippoorwills would repeat their melodic songs over and over again, and crickets would begin their nightly orchestrations. The songs of the frogs and Whippoorwills were beautiful, but the crickets were just annoying. Anticipation of the nightly show would grow as the sky got darker.
As soon as supper was finished and my chores completed I would be out the door, scanning the eastern sky, whispering "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight." Upon sighting the first star I would squeeze my eyes shut, repeat my wish inside my head and flop down on my back on the grass. The Sun warmed soil beneath the soft cool layers of clover and Bermuda grass were my nightly blanket. It seemed that time passed slowly as I scoured the sky, looking for more stars. First one, two, and then suddenly, in uncountable numbers, stars began appearing in the darkening sky. I would try to count the stars, but eventually gave up and just enjoyed the spectacular view. My brothers and younger sister, Carolyn, would eventually join me. We would section the sky off and Don and Larry would help me count. Fireflies emerged from the tall grass, mingling with the stars as though trying to signal long lost friends overhead. Their twinkling lights intermingled with the stars for our attention and usually got it. We would jump up and catch as many as we could, only to let them go after a few minutes. When mom would call us in for bed we would beg to sleep on the back porch. Grabbing a heavy quilt I would make my bed as close to the railing as possible, hoping to see a shooting star before I was lulled to sleep by the melodic music of the night creatures. Images of space ships and faraway planets, not unlike those I had seen in movies and read about in comics, would fill my dream world.
Today I am still in awe of the uncountable stars in the Universe, the vastness of space, and I still dream about the other worlds that might be hiding among the stars. As far as counting the stars, well I learned long ago that it is impossible. If each star in the Universe were a grain of sand it would take a large wheelbarrow just to carry the stars in the Milky Way and there isn't enough sand on all the beaches on Earth to represent the stars in the entire Universe. (Dickenson, 2001)
People living in Houston or other large metropolitan areas do not have the opportunity to see the stars the way I did when I was young. The first thing they notice is the glare of the lights from parking lots, street lights, security lights, and other sources of light pollution. The evening star is usually visible in the eastern sky but is very difficult to see all but the brightest stars. Most nights only the moon, the brightest stars, and a few planets are visible. If anyone wants to see the spectacular beauty of the stars they have to leave the city and go to an area that is basically free of external lights. With urban sprawl on the rise one has to go further and further out of Houston to do any stargazing. Once outside the ring of light pollution however, the vastness of space becomes apparent. Introducing my "city slicker" students to this never-ending view, the mesmerizing beauty overhead, is my goal.
Comments: