Wednesday, July 8, 2026

The Kohoutek Effect


A front-page article in my hometown paper today, written by a reporter from the Sacramento Bee paraphrasing another article from Forbes, describes the cosmic wonders readers can look out for in July. 

For example, did you know that the Milky Way will be visible in July? And that the sky will be dark, and the Moon "largely invisible to the naked eye"? Also, a comet will pass by Earth on Tuesday, and in late July you'll be able to spot Saturn's rings through a telescope.

I won't embarrass the reporter by naming them, but I can only imagine them sitting in high school science class whining, "But when will I ever use any of this stuff in real life?!" Today is that day.

The article contains kernels of truth but they're garbled into incomprehensibility. 

The Milky Way is visible year-round. The kernel of truth is that the summer is a nice time to see its bright core, but there's nothing special about July. Just get far away from city lights and look up.

The July sky will be as dark as usual and the Moon will be as visible as ever. The kernel of truth is that the next full Moon will happen toward the end of the month, on July 29. That is not newsworthy.

The comet, named "10P/Tempel 2," is passing closer than usual to Earth but will still be tens of millions of miles away and invisible to the naked eye. 

Saturn's rings are visible through a telescope anytime Saturn is up, which it will be all summer and into the fall. The visibility of the rings varies as we see the planet from different angles in its orbit, and on rare occasions they seem to disappear when we view them edge-on, but they will look very impressive for several years to come. 

I think articles like this do real harm, and not just the pain they cause me when my eyes roll too far back into my head. People who read this will go out expecting to see these marvels and be disappointed. Their trust in mass media will erode (appropriately, in this case) and their interest in stargazing will plummet.

Which is too bad, because there are infinite marvels to be seen when you know where, when, and how to look, and have a trustworthy guide.


(This post's title, "The Kohoutek Effect," comes from my astronomer friend Sherwood Harrington, who remembers the widespread disappointment in the 1970s when the "Comet of the Century!" turned out to be something of a dud. I remember!)

Tuesday, July 7, 2026

250 Words on Adulting


[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

“Adulting” is a newish word for an ancient concept: growing up, shouldering responsibility, making your way in the world. Most of us ease into it, some have it thrust upon us, others never get the hang of it. 

I notched an adulting milestone one night my car broke down as I was driving back to college. In those pre-cell-phone days, I found a house that would answer a stranger’s knock after dark and called my Dad.

“Well, you have AAA,” he said. “Take care of it.”

I don’t know what I expected him to do, but his unwillingness to charge to my rescue was a shock! Then I took care of it. I don’t actually remember how I solved the problem; probably had the car towed to a mechanic. What I never forgot is that it was my problem to solve, and I did.

Similar rites of passage might be taking out your first loan, making your first major purchase, deciding on a big move, accepting or leaving a job. As my daughters grew into women, I saw how difficult adulting could be. They always knew that their mother and I had their backs, but some of my proudest moments as a parent came when they solved a big problem that we only learned about afterward. 

That said, I have my own definition. When the toilet paper roll is down to its last square of tissue and you replace it instead of leaving it for the next person, you’re adulting. 

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