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Nighttime star trek is worth getting out of bed for
By Deborah Taylor-Hollis
Right up there with eating right and trying to impart the best value system I can as a mom, I value sleep--my sleep--most of all. There is, without a doubt, nothing harder in the world for me than rolling out of bed in the morning and starting to think.
My son is a lot like me in that regard, which means mornings around our house are a comic opera of grunts and ill-tempered snarls as we two try to get dressed, fed, brushed and cleared for take-off. The fact that I have to wake up weekdays at 7:45 a.m. to take him to school instead of sleeping in continues to be a source of great irritation. I plan on suing the state to start classes at noon so we can snuggle each other awake on the cold days and slug around the house every morning. We are not going quietly into that good day.
Once we are in bed for the night, no matter how early it is, getting back out is a chore best left to those with crowbars and arrest warrants. The warm, soft sheets nestling around us and the gentle ebb and flow of the waterbed make a comfortable nest that I will not vacate for anyone except the schools or a severe call from Mother Nature. Mother Nature not only called recently, but did so in advance and left an engraved invitation.
The Leonid Meteor Storm Alert Nov. 17-18 was forecast by astrological watchers as possibly the most dramatic meteor display in 35 years. Some folks were saying it might be the greatest show in our lifetimes.
Sky and Telescope magazine's website reports that "meteors are pieces of space debris that plow into the Earth's atmosphere. Because they arrive at very high speeds--anywhere from 11 to 74 kilometers (7 to 46 miles) per second--they vaporize by air friction in a white-hot streak. Most meteor parents (meteoroids) range in size from sand grains to pebbles."
What that boiled down to for our family was a chance to see more shooting stars in one evening than most people would ever see in their entire lives. And that kind of a show was one worth pulling teeth and pushing bodies out of bed for.
I was smart enough to not even go to bed Saturday night, so that by the time 1 a.m. rolled around and I had to take everyone warm and toasty from their little beds, I was already awake and jazzed at the idea of stargazing. My 8-year-old moaned and pulled off the covers with him for the backseat, but since I was basically carrying him, the move went rather smoothly.
I had decided to drive south to Morgan Hill for viewing, trying to get some distance from the well-lit city skies, and just off Cochran Road we found a lovely dark orchard, filled to the brim with everyone else in San Jose who had yanked their loved ones out of bed and driven haphazardly south to stare into space.
In the back of my mind was that nagging doubt about the entire expedition. More than once over the years I have forced the family to do "something different" that sounded way fun just to have it fizzle out in boredom. I did not want these wild creatures, now snarly from sleep depravation, to turn on me if this sky show was not all it was cracked up to be. It would be a long, ugly ride home if Mother Nature did not give us some pretty impressive stuff.
So there we were, standing next to our car in a darkened orchard as the temperature dropped into the 40's, a kid in pajamas with a blanket around his shoulders hanging out the car window and all our necks craned up to stare at a piece of sky.
I have to say it was awesome. I never knew how exciting it could be to watch lights flashing overhead, streaks in groups sometimes, bursts of white fighting for attention as the heavens exploded. I wondered if it was just a little bit like it looked way back in the beginning, if maybe this was as close as a person could get to experiencing the first cosmic explosions.
My 8-year-old told me about an hour into the show that it was "not nearly as boring as I was sure it was gonna be," which for him at 3 a.m. was a high compliment.
No one thought it was funny when I reminded them that the whole premise for the horror movie Day of the Triffids was about a terrific meteor shower that blinded everyone who watched it, and the meteors that landed brought man-eating plants to earth. Maybe they were nervous about the orchard.
Eventually, though, the skies slowed down and we could see our breath when we spoke. I called time and put everyone back into the car for a slow trip home and back to bed. Once in a while--a great while--there really is something worth getting up for.
You can beam messages to Deborah at DTHollis@svcn.com.
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Willow Glen, California Since 1992
