25
Apr
When I was between the age of five and 7 years old, my Dad and I would take weekend road trips from North Bend, Oregon to Corvallis, Oregon to visit my grandmother and great-grandmother.
Since my Dad was serving in the Coast Guard at the time, and was away on helicopter rescue missions, I didn’t see him a lot during the week. I considered our time alone together as special as a Christmas gift.
Now as an adult, understanding the magnitude and risk associated with his work, I realize it was indeed a gift to be able to have a father that regularly risked his own life, knowing that he could very well not come home and leave my young mother alone without a husband, and three young girls without a father.
Reflecting on our trips, we almost always left for our end destination in the evening, so part of our trip was done at night.
I remember looking out the car window, and marveling at the dark night sky and tracking the moon and the stars with my eyes.
On some nights, there was so little light pollution that the Milky Way and the faintest nebula could be seen with the naked eye.
On one trip in particular, I recall asking my Dad about what I was seeing. I don’t remember exactly how I asked the question as a six-year old, but on a high level it mostly had to do about why some stars seemed as clear as the moon, while others, when you looked away you could see them out of the corner of your eye but when focused in, they appeared blurry.
My Dad always did his best to give me a very scientific explanation and didn’t “dumb down” anything simply because I was six years old. He explained, in the best way he could, that it had to do with our vision, and how our eyes receive light during the night time distant objects appear clearer when we are not focusing on them due to the cone and rod cells in our eyes and how each read light differently.
The more questions I asked my Dad, the more I understood that I didn’t know much at all. Even at the age of six, I wanted to learn about it all. I wanted to know about our place in the galaxy, and in the Universe.
One little mind, in the vastness of infinite time and space, thinking and questioning.
When I think back to this time, I think about the children of today and wonder how many are looking at the night sky with the same questions. Do they even have a parent to ask questions and receive answers?
I take for granted these personal truths of mine: That I grew up being raised by two loving parents who encouraged and supported my thirst for knowledge.
I grew up living in the part of the world not polluted by the light of humanity. Sadly, light pollution has constricted dark skies to mostly uninhabited locations around the world.
The thought that so many young people have neither the benefit of two parents, or unpolluted night skies is personally, a sad and tragic one for me.
Still living in Oregon, to this day I am still able to look to the sky and see the Milky Way with my eyes over 35 years later. This is a blessing I do not take for granted.
In the warm summer months, when the skies are clear and the Milky Way is perfectly positioned over my backyard, I still ask questions about my place in the Universe, looking up and beyond, with the curiosity of a six-year old child wanting to know more. I take a deep breath, and thank God for these blessings.