‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, when the lights of suburbia illuminated Santa

I read regularly in Physics Today and other sciencey publications about political advocacy against light polution. The premise is, as ever more of civilization becomes lit with 1000 watt sodium bulbs, ever more people lose the ability to see the night sky as our ancestors saw it. They then spout lofty prose about the inspiration available in the stars. They also are none too pleased that paid professional astronomers like them have to go ever farther from civilization to build their observatories.[1] I kind of support their cause in spirit... but my own feeling about such causes is that if I were to turn myself into a political advocate, there are about 3200 other issues that are of more importance to humankind that I should start with.

At the home of the Nachoman, in middle-of-nowhere, Virginia, the light pollution is minimal. Though the lights of the Sheetz gas station four miles down the road obscure the view of the most southern sky, mainly our sky at night is dark. [2] In fact, we observed the aurora borealis a couple of years ago.

Burrito Girl [3] and I have trained our four-year-old Nachoboy not to wake us up ungodly early in the morning. Though he occasionally does wake up before dawn, he doesn't bug us then. No, not because the Nachoboy can tell time... because he knows that he is supposed to stay in bed until morning. Morning is defined by the sky -- if it's still dark, it ain't morning yet. (This technique is a bit less useful in the summertime, but in the summer when I don't teach I'm less disturbed by being sat upon at 5:30.)

So perhaps you might be seeing the upcoming punchline...

We are traveling for Decemberween, visiting family in large cities. On Christmas Eve, we put the Nachoboy to bed at my mother-in-law's house in Munster, Indiana, near Chicago. He was so excited in anticipation of Santa's deliveries that he didn't fall asleep until 11:00. He woke up at 4:30, jumped on me, and declared it morning. "Huh?" Well, the sky was quite bright, owing to the general bright haze over northwest Indiana, and assisted by the full moon. Bright sky = morning, I guess, especially for a four-year-old on Christmas day.

Merry Christmas to all, but Umpire School can't start soon enough.

[1] For example, Charlottesville's McCormick Observatory, once the home of the largest telescope of the world and once one of the greatest worldwide contributers to astronomy, now sits on a hill above Scott Stadium, the well-lit main sports venue for the University of Virginia.

[2] Except for the stars and the moon, of course, when they're out.

[3] Burrito Girl is the Nachoman's wife and sidekick.