Why I own a telescope

Evan Hilgemann
Predict
Published in
7 min readAug 14, 2020

Amateur astronomy is often overlooked as a hobby and that is a mistake. Astronomy literally opens up the universe in ways other activities never can. It connects us with friends, family, and shared stories of the sky dating back to the beginnings of civilization. And it’s cheap. You can get a solid entry-level telescope and see craters on the moon, rings around Saturn, moons around Jupiter, star clusters, and nebulas for only a few hundred dollars. I’ll cover how to select an entry-level telescope in a future article, but for now, here are a few anecdotes to illustrate why I own a telescope, and why you should too.

The telescopes of Griffith Observatory at sunset.

The Big Picture

In the 1950s, the California Institute of Technology had a problem: physics was boring and no one wanted to take the two-year introductory class. In 1961 the school convinced the young and charismatic professor Richard Feynman, one of the most famous scientists of the 20th century, to teach the class for a single session. In addition to his scientific credentials which include a Nobel Prize, Feynman inspired students and the public alike with unmatched wonder and zest for life.

A typical physics class might start with the history of physics, basic equations, and how they behave in different circumstances. Feynman took a different tact and opened his first lecture by challenging the class with a simple question:

“If, in some cataclysm, all of scientific knowledge were to be destroyed, and only one sentence passed on to the next generations of creatures, what statement would contain the most information in the fewest words?” -From the Feynman Lectures on Physics

Feynman goes on (in a long tradition of professors) to answer his own question:

“The atomic hypothesis (or the atomic fact, or whatever you wish to call it) that all things are made of atoms — little particles that move around in perpetual motion, attracting each other when they are a little distance apart, but repelling upon being squeezed into one another. In that one sentence, you will see, there is an enormous amount of information about the world, if just a little imagination and thinking are applied.

Feynman lecturing at CalTech (credit: Wikipedia)

Although not particularly useful to a caveman trying to build a fire, the atomic hypothesis does open a world of possibilities to a budding society. Chemistry all of a sudden becomes obvious, combustion and power generation follow closely behind leading to medicine, materials engineering, and a whole host of useful sciences. You get the picture.

I would pick a different sentence though. Mine would be: “The night sky is full of other suns, and the bright stars that move differently than the others are worlds just as complex and beautiful as the Earth.”

Humanity has a long and storied habit of arrogantly assuming that we are special in the universe. Five hundred years ago, Earth was the center of the universe and everything else rotated around it. Then the sun became the center of everything. Then the galaxy. And today we know that there are countless galaxies out there, each with hundreds of thousands of stars and planets, in a universe that is truly beyond comprehension in size.

I think many of society’s ills have come from the inflated belief that we hold a privileged place in the universe. Our egotistical nature extends all the way down to individuals. I am not immune here. My day to day struggles often feel like the biggest and most pressing in the world despite obvious evidence to the contrary.

Looking through a telescope changes my perspective though. Astronomy forces me to try and comprehend how much there is out there. In a universal sense, astronomy reminds me that we are living on a small speck of dust in an unremarkable corner of the cosmos. And in a global sense, astronomy reminds me that we’re all in this together. I take solace in the fact that there are people on the other side of the world enjoying the same sights that I do and that we are connected through the images we see and stories we tell of the sky. That connectedness can only make the world a happier and healthier place.

Knowledge gained

My first telescope was a dinky little thing with a shaky mount that my dad bought for me when I was around 12 years old. I don’t know how much he spent but it couldn’t have been much. It took a couple of evenings in the backyard just trying to get the moon in focus.

A picture of the moon I somehow managed to take by holding a digital camera up to the telescope eyepiece way back in 2006.

We got better though and pretty soon were enjoying all the sights in the night sky. I learned a ton about how the solar system works by operating that telescope. I studied lunar cycles to better understand when I could get a good view of craters. I realized that planets always show up in the same area of the sky, which was actually the plane of the solar system. The phases of Venus presented a mystery to me, and I was taught that since Venus is closer to the sun we see the shadowed side of it. And I recall being really confused when my dad tried to explain to me that the light I was seeing from stars was actually generated thousands of years ago.

In short, owning a telescope taught me how to ask and answer questions about the natural world through observation. A skill that has served me well in a career in the sciences, and something that we can all use a bit more of these days.

Memories Made

Just as valuable as knowledge gained, though, are the memories made. Many of my better memories from my teenage years up through college involved astronomy. There are a couple of reasons for this.

When exploring a new physical location your brain works hard to take in all the new information. That process itself can lead to richer and more lasting memories. For example, the first time I ever drove across the southwest I remember being amazed by the parched landscapes and massive vistas that seemed alien to me at the time. I still remember that feeling, but can hardly recall the dozens of trips I’ve made since then.

Exploring the sky has a similar effect. Every night of stargazing is a new opportunity to explore a different constellation, learn its defining features, and determine the best paths through it to find interesting destinations. Just like at home, many times I take the same old path, but astronomy offers me an opportunity to constantly be exploring.

My lovingly handcrafted telescope setup for a night of observing at the Charcol Kilns in Death Valley, just one of many memorable astronomy-themed trips I’ve taken over the years.

Amateur astronomy has also encouraged me to physically travel to new locations I otherwise might have not gone to. As a teenager, my dad and I took multiple road trips across the state looking for dark skies. I discovered the Mojave Preserve and Mt. Pinos in southern California because I was in search of a quiet, out of the way place to stargaze. In graduate school, a friend of mine and I chased a meteor shower to a state park in central Michigan I otherwise would never have visited. These memories are engrained in my brain because of the unique experiences they offered.

Not only did all these experiences involve travel to new destinations but they were also with family and friends. Astronomy creates valuable opportunities for me to connect and build relationships with others. Those experiences have added a valuable texture to my life that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

Gifts Given

A number of years ago I stayed with a friend-of-a-friend in the mountains outside of Los Angeles. Ira welcomes everyone with open arms, raised two wonderful girls on her horse ranch, and is a remarkable woman in many ways. She does not speak often, but when she does you pay attention. Whatever she says is going to be important.

I set up my telescope on the front patio the first night we stayed there. After sunset, I pointed it at Saturn which was hanging like the proverbial jewel it is in the western sky. After a few moments of viewing the ringed planet, Ira turned to me in wonder and said, “Evan, we have only given you a place to sleep here, but you have given us the stars.

Wow. I was blown away by her reaction. In a simple sentence, Ira had summarized what it can feel like to look through a telescope for the first time in a way the oohs and aahs never do. Astronomy is a generous hobby. Share it with your family. Share it with friends. Share it with strangers. You won’t regret it.

Evan Hilgemann is a mechanical engineer at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory. You might also enjoy Explore & Observe, his email newsletter on modern day exploration of earth and space.

This work was done as a private venture and not in the author’s capacity as an employee of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, California Institute of Technology. Any views and opinions expressed herein do not necessarily state or reflect those of NASA, JPL, or the California Institute of Technology

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Evan Hilgemann
Predict
Writer for

Mechanical engineer by day. Telescope operator by night. Occasional speaker, writer, and educator. www.exploreandobserve.com Join the adventure!