CN3y Sharing the Sky Weblog No. 28
Keeping an Observing Log
This fall I have participated in teaching an introductory astronomy course. Thanks to Sharing the Sky, the students, along with the rest of the Mercy College community, now have access to two remote telescopes stationed in Arizona. Flaire, a 14-inch Meade Schmidt-Cassegrain telescope, has been at Mercy’s disposal for well over a year. This fall we added Obadiah to Mercy’s lineup. Beyond these telescopes lies a need to persuade the students to keep good observing records; i.e. an observing log. While some of the students wrote rather detailed notes, others were more cryptic. My initial comment: “This is more representative of sixth grade than college level.”
Why would I write this? Because I know. When I began keeping an observing log, I was in sixth grade myself, in Roslyn School in the Montreal suburb of Westmount.
My first comment was “Partial eclipse of the Sun. Only last part observed because of clouds.” It was a somewhat tepid way to begin an observing log that would continue for more than half a century and which even now is far from complete. After more than 16,500 sessions, some of the documentation is still somewhat cryptic.
On November 18, the entire collection was made available to the world via a gift to the Royal Astronomical Society of Canada. Unlike a biography, in which stories and events are carefully chosen, in this “book” the entire tapestry of my hours under the stars is open for all to see: even the session back in 1963 where I set up my telescope, watched the mirror fall out, and promptly put everything away. It records my first total eclipse of the Sun, on July 20, 1963, my first comet, in October 1965, and my first comet discovery on November 13, 1984. It records the fateful night of the discovery of Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9, almost 18 months before it collided with mighty Jupiter.
This is the digital record of the discovery of my first comet, Levy-Rudenko. Image scanned by Nanette Vigil.
These digital copies of my observing log will be available to anyone who wants to explore one person’s adventure under the sky. People will be able to browse the various observing records, and focus on whatever kind of observation is of interest. Thy will find a tapestry of events, observations made visually, photographically, and electronically, and lists of friends, relatives and other observing companions that have brightened my starlight nights over the years. They will find stories like me walking straight into the 61- inch telescope during an exposure of Halley’s comet; I was bruised but the image came out perfectly. They will also discover the tale of a visit to the Sacsayhuamán Incan ruins outside Cuzco in Peru, when I brought Minerva to observe Halley’s comet and heard some very inebriated people walking toward me, As they approached I wondered what I could do. I grabbed Minerva’s tube; would the telescope work as a weapons system? The group drew closer, looked at me, looked at my telescope, and stopped. “Hal—lee?” one of them called out. It was a special pleasure to show them the famous comet.
The archive is accompanied by two articles. One was written by Royal Astronomical Society of Canada archivist Randall Rosenfeld; it is a scholarly consideration of the role that observing records have played over the centuries. Randall and I did not get well acquainted until the closing day of the RASC’s General Assembly in Frederickton, New Brunswick, Canada, July 1, 2010. We sat in adjacent seats on an air Canada flight from Frederickton to Toronto and talked intensively about astronomical history. By the end of that flight, I had made a decision to donate the digitized version of my observing logs to the Society of which he is the archivist.
The other is a more personal document entitled “David Levy and his Observing Logs.” Both can be found at this website:
http://www.rasc.ca/logbooks/levy
Perhaps the most interesting part of this collection is that it’s not done yet; it is by no means complete. I am slightly more than half way through Log 24; when it is finished it will be scanned and added to the collection. Frankly, I have no idea what these future sessions will entail—a new comet, a total eclipse of the Sun, brilliant meteors—in other words, qué sera sera.
Finally, I wish to thank my daughter, Nanette, for the enormous amount of effort she put into scanning so many logs. Roy, one of my closest friends for so many decades, wrote a beautiful introduction. Whether you are part of my class at Mercy college, and wish to record your impressions of the images you have just taken with Flaire or Obadiah, or just casually interested in the sky, may these observing logs inspire you to record the observing sessions that brighten your life. Perhaps more important, may they encourage you to open your eyes wider to the heavens, and spend more time among the stars.