Pan-Starrs and other comets
March 30, 2013

In the hubbub of driving, packing, driving, an extraordinary event temporarily vacated my mind.  It was not necessarily extraordinary in appearance, but to me, it was exciting.  It was another comet that I was privileged to view: this one, Pan-Starrs, was pretty obscure and visible only for a short time, the fifth I’ve seen in my lifetime.

Although we were in the city with all the incumbent lights, and the comet was near the horizon in the dim after-glow of sunset, we were able to spy it after a bit of searching with binoculars. 

Katie said she saw it in Arizona without the glasses; that was not possible here even after we knew where it was.

It is pretty amazing, no matter the circumstances, to see such a celestial sight, although it pales into insignificance when compared to my first comet sighting.  I think the year was 1965.  I was living in Sunnyslope, Arizona, when I read that Ikeya-Seki was to be visible for us.  The instructions were to take a peep sometime in the wee hours, maybe around 3 a.m.

I carefully set the alarm so I could be outside at the correct time.  Youthful excitement at a bubbling over level, I opened the door to look out at the low eastern sky per instructions where I anticipated to see the thing streak by like a meteor.

These many decades later, I easily conjure the intense mind-blowing, heart-stopping unreality of the scene before me.  Awe-struck, I stood there with my mouth gaping open as my eyes tried to take in and transfer to my brain what was before me. 

No sissy streaking meteor, no namby-pamby normal skyward happening: there was Ikeya-Seki lighting the sky, its enormous wide tail stretching horizontally across fully half the eastern sky, or so it seemed.  I still get a funny feeling in my stomach when I stop to remember that glorious sight.

The oddest part of that event is that I have yet to meet someone else who saw it.  It seems that everyone would have marveled at the sight.

When famous Halley’s came along much later, everyone was agog with anticipation after its previous spectacular sojourn through Earth’s skies.  I was publishing a weekly newspaper at the time and had great fun ferreting out a few folks who had watched Halley’s traverse the sky 75 years before.

As we all know, this showing was much more of a dud.  I went with friends to view Halley’s through the Lowell Observatory telescope near Flagstaff.  Hundreds had the same idea.  We stood in line for a very long time and were given a very short opportunity at the impressive apparatus so that all could be accommodated.  Person after person turned away disappointed because cloud cover obscured their view.  As I took my turn, the clouds parted, I saw the comet and then the clouds again covered the sight.  I felt disappointed at its insignificance, but at the same time, extremely grateful to see the it.

I got a glance at unimpressive Kohoutek in the 70s.  And then there was Hale-Bopp, in view for much longer and seen by many, made infamous because of the Heaven’s Gate cult suicides that were a result of the devotees' belief they would teleport to a UFO following the comet.

It’s easy to understand why such incredible and unusual celestial events conjure fear and superstition.  For me, I look forward to the newly discovered Ison comet, hyped to possibly be brighter than the full moon.  Ison’s trajectory is expected to bring it into view in November and December of this year.