Skygazing

            There is a Website called sun-gazing.com that publishes amazing photographs. My favorite is of a Landrover on a dirt road carrying a group of people who are standing with their binoculars glued to their eyes looking intently to the left. Crouching behind them, to their right on the dirt road, is a magnificent male lion. The caption is “Should I tell them I’m here?”

            Life is often like that. We get so caught up in admiration of the distant that we forget the near at hand.

            A bunch of years ago, Halley’s Comet was visible from Earth. I was dazzled by the possibility of seeing it. After finding the absolute ultimate time to view from my location, Gloucester, Massachusetts, I determined to stalk this near-miracle. My kids invited friends to stay the night. I took the top off of the IH Scout. We set the alarm for 3 am. We staggered to our feet and departed in darkness for the backshore, there to view the comet with a minimum of environmental light.

            Total bust. I mean, nothing. Zero. We waited, looking at the right segment of the sky. The kids were incredibly patient—or maybe they were stunned by lack of sleep. Whatever the case, we waited, and waited, and waited some more.

            Finally the sky began to lighten over the ocean to the east. I handed out the cocoa and muffins I had brought, and we watched the sun rise. It was magnificent, a thing of such glory that if it had been a once-in-76-years appearance the backshore would have been packed solid with enthusiastic crowds.

            Halley's Comet will again be visible from Earth in 2061. I suspect I will not be here to greet it. But the sun rises and sets every day. The miracles that happen every day can touch our lives with magic if we only look.