Observatory Park

One doesn't often see the words romance and physics in the same sentence. However, if you think about astrophysics, and the stars, planets and moon in the night sky, you might discover a connection. As a student at University of Denver in the 1970s, I had both class assignments (courses related to astronomy, cosmology, and Einstein's theory of relativity) and other opportunities that permitted me to spend time at Observatory Park. The park included a small couple of acres with an old, handsome, dome-shaped observatory . Sometimes we had lab at the observatory. We took turns looking at various objects in the sky, huddled over the eyepiece of an old, fine telescope that was affixed to a clock mechanism that kept the object being viewed in focus, adjusting to the earth's steady turning. Despite the city lights of Denver, we often had a good view, the 'mile-high' air so cold and clear. The telescope was situated in a small dark space the size of a waiting room, with maybe three bleachers.

Though we must have gazed at planets, the moon, and stars, what made me weak at the knees were galaxies. Galaxies: spiral-, sphere-, and other-shaped collections of thousands of stars, each star different - perhaps binary, or with its own solar system, or blue and dim, or a nova flaring large and bright. We couldn't see individual stars at such a distance - it was more like looking at bee hives and swarms, millions of miles wide, their piercing white glow reaching the humbled eyes of a handful of momentary creatures on a small acre of earth.