The sidewalk astronomer – usually a star-haunted amateur setting up a personal telescope on city sidewalks for both money and love – is familiar with doubt.
Mr. Tregent, 1856: “Sometimes when I have been exhibiting, the parties have said it was all nonsense and a deception, for the star was painted on the glass. If the party has been anything agreeable, I’ve taken the trouble to persuade him. I’ve, for instance, placed the star on the very edge of the glass, and then they’ve seen it travel right across the field; and as I’ve told them, if it was painted it couldn’t move and disappear from the lens.”
Joseph G. White, 1921: ‘”This is a fake,’ he exclaimed. ‘There isn’t any such thing in the sky. You’ve got this thing fastened here in the tube to fool people.’ The sidewalk astronomer proved that Saturn was real by telling the man to watch it move out of the field of view by himself moving the telescope tube.”
Herman Heyn, 2012: “Frequently Asked Questions: ‘Is that the real Saturn? I don’t believe it!’ Used to try to prove to them 5 different ways that it is real. Now I just say, ‘If it looks fake, it’s in good focus!’ I also say that if I was going to fool you I wouldn’t need to bring 70-lbs of equipment down here but could do it with a paper towel roll! These days it’s helpful when someone comes along with an iPhone with a sky app which shows Saturn where my scope is pointing.”
I love the back-to-school photos I’ve seen in the last few weeks. Whether kids have combed hair or messy bed head, new backpacks or hastily-thrown-together lunches, first-day ties or old t-shirts, their back-to-school smiles fill up more than just my Facebook feed. I’ve caught the hopeful feeling that I usually miss, being out of school—that I’ll have the chance to learn something new, or to go somewhere I’ve never been before, or become someone new entirely.
