Hi-De-Ho Rene,

Wouldn't you know it: After a prolonged summer drought that has featured the most parched July in Kansas City history and innumerable August days with temperatures exceeding 100 degrees, the clouds have finally come in to the rescue. But why must they come when Mars is in the sky, just begging to be ogled? Here's hoping they pour down some rain and scoot on out of here -- and soon.

Mars Mania has me thinking back on all the other astronomical incidents that have captured our national attention in my lifetime. I was born after the Apollo 11 mission and the Apollo 13 accident, so other than the excitement of the first shuttle launch and the agony of the Challenger disaster, my most vivid memories are not of manned space flight.

Instead, I think of the thrill of anticipation as we waited for pieces of Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 to smash into Jupiter; of the jumpy, sporadic images of the surface of Mars sent back through space by the charmingly Erector-setlike Mars Rover; and, to a lesser extent, of the brilliance of Comet Hale-Bopp and the Leonid meteor showers.

Events like this unite us, if only for a few moments. Perhaps it's because there's not much controversy swirling around comets and planet fly-bys. Nobody, except perhaps a handful of astrophysicists, could find anything to argue about. All we have left is wonder and appreciation. Some see the wonder of design, while others see the wonder of chance, but the expanse of the universe baffles us all.

As for telescopes, my parents have one at their home, which is in one of the darkest dark-sky pockets in Kansas. The night sky there looks so much more three-dimensional than around even the smallest towns. Dad is a science teacher, so when we kids were younger we'd have access to the school's pricier telescope. It spoiled me; I don't get too excited about smaller telescopes. Perhaps that's why I've put all my eggs in the Powell Observatory basket.

Clouds, clouds, go away....Come again some other day!

Later,
Kari