Credit: Trustees of the British Museum/Mathieu Ossendrijver; NASA (both as shown in the New York Times)
Today I read in the New York Times an article about ancient Babylonians tracking the movement of Jupiter. It’s a remarkable discovery because the tablets dating from 350 BC to 50 BC (above is an example) revealed sophisticated mathematical equations comparing the motion of Jupiter across the sky. Cuneiform pressed into clay tablets detailed a graph which calculated the velocity of Jupiter’s travels in a given time. It was originally thought that this sort of calculus was first used in the Middle Ages.
Babylonians called Jupiter Marduk, the god of water, vegetation, judgement and magic. If you think about it, all four of those things might have been intensely important to a city-state. The fortunes of any population depend upon its ability to feed itself, and during dry times Marduk’s powers might have been called upon ensure the Tigris and the Euphrates kept flowing. Otherwise, without growing crops, it might have taken a bit of magic to keep the peace, and judgement must have come swiftly if Babylon’s citizens acted in a way not befitting of its patron god.
Marduk, I’ll have you know, didn’t come by his godship easily. It’s a bit obscure how he came into being as a mythological entity and it seems he went by 50 other names. During a civil war between the gods, Marduk, as a young god, offered his services to the Anunnaki gods, telling them he’d defeat the other warring gods and bring order. In return, they’d make Marduk the head god. Arming himself with all the elements and forces of nature, Marduk emerged victorious and took his rightful place as the one all others showed deference.
Somewhere in here’s a great story waiting to be written. No, not the trope where the ancient tablet is picked up by some unsuspecting archeologist or museum security guard and all hell (literally) breaks loose. Here’s my idea:
These hunks of clay talk to people via an ancient language known only to a few. An elderly professor, trying to prove he’s still relevant, goes into a collection and uncovers a cuneiform tablet no larger than a slice of stale bread. He’s seen it thousands of times, but realizes it’s been misinterpreted. A chip off of a corner, missing for years, turns up and changes the entire meaning of the message. It’s a message from Marduk himself, who foresees a wonderful vision that will only arise under exact circumstances. The elderly professor tries to show his revelation to the department dean, who dismisses him and accuses him of dementia-related hallucinations. Another professor, also getting along in years, is the only person who believes him. Trouble is, this person is on the other side of the globe and speaks another language. The two can only communicate, it turns out, in cuneiform symbol script. Both have age-related illnesses and it’s only a matter of time the two of them work together to solve the problem and bring the prophecy to life.
I thought it ironic that two iconic British souls left this world for the one yet to be explored last week. Neither was a stranger to space and its oddities and both made significant contributions to the world of sci-fi and fantasy. I’d thought I’d compose a few words about both. It’s a given their talents are unique and rare, so I’ll just stick to the anecdote sides of things and save the lauding for others to trumpet.
David Bowie’s music played in the background of my youth and influenced my tastes. He seemed to be a bit left of whatever else anyone had to offer. One afternoon, my parents took me to Philadelphia (I grew up between NYC and Philly, so we visited both cities often) and “Diamond Dogs” just hit the airwaves. A truck towing a Mack truck-sized album cover of “DD” caught my attention. David Bowie, his head intact but his body transformed into a muscular dog, seemed oddly interesting to me. Those sort of things didn’t roll past our house, especially that huge, so I kept watching the truck jockeying for space in the Center City traffic. A few days later, I’d seen the album cover in the window of a record shop. I didn’t have enough money to buy it, but I heard the title song on WMMR, the progressive radio station out of Philadelphia. Somehow the music, in my mind at least, didn’t match up to the picture I’d seen traveling through town. It didn’t matter, though. I loved it.
My friend Anthony adored Bowie and remains an ardent fan to this day. On one occasion, either my birthday or just because, he handed me a poster that I still own. It’s a depiction of his Berlin era, walking through the streets with Bowie walking past posted bills of him on a decrepit wooden fence. I have it tucked away someplace safe and now might be a good time to find it a suitable frame.
Another friend, Ken (quite an excellent artist) painted a portrait of Bowie. I still have that, too. It was on the occasion of my 22nd birthday and it rivals any other artwork anyone else could have painted of him. This portrait shows Bowie emerging from a dark background, a thoughtful gaze on his face. Makes you wonder what thoughts Ken might have channelled from Bowie as the brush stroked the canvas.
Not all that long ago, my husband Andrew and I watched “The Man Who Fell to Earth.” I’m sure I’m not the first one who considered the film strange. I’m in total agreement that he’s the only person who could have played the alien.
And speaking of aliens, Alan Rickman and David Bowie intersect professionally. Ironically, Rickman played the part of Dr. Lazarus in “Galaxy Quest,” while David Bowie’s theatrical work, “Lazarus” plays at the New York Theatre Workshop. In the song, “Lazarus,” Bowie hints at death while Rickman’s Dr. Lazarus tries not to die. Okay, I know this is a stretch but I thought it’s just one of those strange peculiarities worth noting.
Years ago, Andrew and I saw Alan Rickman on Broadway in “Private Lives.” Playing the male lead as Elyot Chase, he starred opposite Lindsey Duncan in the part of Amanda Prynne, Chase’s ex-wife. During the first act, Rickman was as stiff as a board, but must have had a drink or something during intermission, as he perked up considerably. During the second act, the Alan Rickman we all love appeared and any missteps he might have experienced during the first act were instantly forgotten. The play was in previews at that point, so he might have been stumbling with the lines. Who knows?
Yes, everyone knows that he played Snape and who can possibly forget his Hans Gruber in “Die Hard.” As Dr. Lazarus, though, he was a riot. Underneath his deadpan exterior lie a chicken-ish man who really feared dying on a spaceship that was supposed to be part of a television series set. That’s what I loved about Rickman’s film roles – he understated his roles with dry wit and a hint of terror, leaving the audience member never quite sure what his intentions might be. That’s really good acting, and Rickman had that talent in spades.
Now regrettably, both have left our planet for distant shores, hitchhiking along the universe, leaving a trail in the stardust for us to remember them by. Perhaps by some mystical force, both Rickman and Bowie will rise again, as the biblical Lazarus did.
Sure, everyone’s done it. You pick up the phone, take a quick glance at a number you’ve never seen before and dialed it. A voice connects at the other end and it sure sounds unfamiliar. Still, you ask for the person you intended to reach, hoping a friend or a wife or a kid answered the phone. And no, they’re not there because you’ve dialed the wrong number.
No biggie. It happens.
Except when that wrong number happens to originate from the International Space Station.
British astronaut Tim Peake mistakenly called someone and later tweeted about his wrong attempt and apology. I’m sure the person at the other end thought it was a bunch of bored kids pranking and though little of it until the story broke in the news. It just goes to show you that no matter who and where you are, accidents happen, even at the ISS.
But here’s something: do you know that anyone can contact the ISS? That’s right. If you’re a licensed ham radio operator, you have an opportunity to contact the ISS when it’s above your neck of the woods.
As it turns out, there are three ham radios aboard the ISS: an Ericsson MP-X handheld radio, a Kenwood TM D700 and a Kenwood D710.
Credit: NASA – John Phillips at an ISS Ham Radio
Obviously, their frequencies operates on different ones than Houston. Its purpose is exactly the same as Adrian Lane discovered – as a means of public education. Schools, for example, reach out to the inhabitants of the ISS to ask questions.
When astronauts have free time, they choose to make random, unschedule contact with whomever is choosing to reach them. Though their work schedules dictate their availability, an astronaut’s waking period is weekdays between 7:30 am – 7:30 pm UTC during the week, which means during that time they’re generally working. However, at either end of that schedule they might be available, as well as weekends, when more free time is also available.
Crews don’t scan but switch between frequencies, depending upon their location. Since the ISS travels rapidly, a person only has about 45 seconds worth of contact time.
If you are interested in contacting the ISS, visit this excellent website hosted by Amateur Radio on the International Space Station (ARISS). It details location prediction maps, frequencies, and everything else you’ll need to set up contact and once you do, how to receive a QSL card to prove it! And though it’s entirely random, you might just get lucky like Adrian Lane.
In celebration of things Episode 7, I’d thought I’d bring you a miscellany of mirth from a few different sources riffing off of things SW. The above video came to me via my FB friends. It’s so silly, so ridiculous, I just HAD to post it.
Secondly, here’s a damn good rap between two baddies:
Say, how’d you like to try your hand at lightsabering? Turn that otherwise defenseless smartphone into a lethal weapon with this:
Who doesn’t love a love story? Here’s Darth’s turn at happiness…or is it?
May you all force your way in to the nearest box office and see SW7! Happy viewing!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I know this news hardly pales in comparison to the other big release occurring at the end of this week. But hey, those who can really claim to be sci-fi geeks and connoisseurs of wit know where the good stuff is.
Who doesn’t remember the iconic show from the latter part of the last century? I used to catch it on Comedy Central, and later on, the former Sci-Fi Channel (now SyFy). It was just so silly, part film commentary, part comedy sketch. I latched on to each episode just to watch a kidnapped janitor and his ‘bot buds watch absolutely horrible films (a goodly portion I had already seen) and wisecrack nonstop.
MST3K’s story reads like a movie plot too. Begun in Minneapolis, MN in 1988 on KTMA, it later moved to Comedy Central and ran for six years until it was cancelled in 1997. A fierce letter campaign to bring it back revived the brilliant show until 1997 on Sci-Fi, when it met its cable demise in 1999. Recipient of the Peabody award in 1993 and named by Time Magazine in 2007 as one of the best television shows of all time (in the top 100), it leaves you wondering why this show was cancelled in the first place. Chalk that up to network execs usual interference with what they want vs. what the creatives envision, and the result is a battle that never ends well, at least for someone.
After the airing of “Danger: Diabolik” on August 8, 1999, MST3K went out of business, although it did go into syndication and if you were lucky, you could pick it up again here and there.
But, like anything worth remembering and savoring, this show had life in it yet. By the modern miracle of crowd funding, the show’s originator/creator, Joel Hodgson, raised $5,764,229 in a month. Add $425,000 raised outside of Kickstarter et voila! We’ll be seeing 14 new episodes in the near future. What’s telling about all of this is show never really went away, it only drifted out to space. Facing a fierce gravitational pull by its devoted fans both old and new, money flowed the instant the Kickstarted campaign started and in the process, broke all crowd funding records.
It still hasn’t been announced when the new episodes will air, but they’ll feature the likes of Patton Oswalt and even Jerry Seinfeld might to do a cameo. So stay tuned! Whether you’d like to revisit old episodes or keep in touch with MST3K happenings, an official channel lives on YouTube. If you’d like to contribute, here’s their dot-com site. It has all the latest information, merch for sale and all the FAQs you’d ever want answered.
His reputation is evil. Bent on destruction, the Dark Lord exists to exterminate those who refuse to submit to his will. He’s been known to randomly snuff out lives for simple misunderstandings and disagreements. Obliterate entire worlds through that diabolical intergalactic weapon-megastructure-spaceship known as the Death Start. Not one to mess around, this guy doesn’t take nothing from nobody, no how.
You know who I mean.
Yeah, it’s the Darthster. Good Ol’ Vader.
So why is it that this fearsome foe has taken on such a cute and cuddly image? I mean, look at the above picture. I know I’d love to have this on my front lawn, except it’d probably get stolen. It doesn’t end there, however. I’ve looked around just to see the vast selection of cute and cuddly Christmas gifts one could slip under the tree. After all, Thanksgiving is next week and we all know what that means: SHOPPING.
Here’s a few ways that everyone’s favorite baddie has been humiliated through mass marketing.
Who better than to greet our guests with a Darth Vader candy dish? If you think about it, his dark reputation isn’t beyond offering unwelcome visitors with a piece of rejected candy, like all the green Starbursts. He’ll just dare you to take a piece. And hey, if you don’t like it, well, then…complain at your own risk…
What better way to get out of bed in the morning than being strong-armed by Darth? Here he is, marching towards your mattress, ready to hurl you to the floor if you don’t get up already. His chest bears the time, reminding you that if you’re late for your appointment with doom, there’s far worse consequences for you in store.
Brrr…it’s cold out there in galaxies far, far away. What better way to stylishly keep warm and carry our Dark Lord’s message of cheer? This holiday sweater comes in three fashionable colors, and is suitably tacky enough to be seen at the best of Christmas parties.
Aww…Daddy Darth…doesn’t he just make you smile? Taking little Luke out for ice cream, or playing tea party with Leia, he does his best to be attentive, except after a busy day with the twins, and then he conks out, like any Daddy would.
Darth had to start somewhere, even though at his birth he couldn’t possibly know he’d be reborn as a helmeted hellion. I’m not sure what’s more hilarious – a pacifier or the onesies it goes with. Perhaps Luke and Leia wore the second piece?
Darth’ll protect your latest novel or business spreadsheet from ever getting lost…that is, until you forget to take this stick drive out of your pocket and slip those trousers in the wash. Then you’ll face the consequences of the Dark Side.
The next time you tool around the universe in the Death Star, be sure to be prepared with this stylish spinner suitcase. There’s plenty of room for your light saber and all other accoutrements of waging intergalactic Empire wars.
Ah, there’s nothing like being able to relax after a hard day of fighting off your sworn enemies. This chillaxin’ chair offers cushiony comfort for even the toughest of badasses.
Who’s gonna mess with your kid when Darth’s on patrol? The eyes seem a little too weird for me, but that ready-to-go light saber tells me he’s at your kid’s side to fight off the ghosties and goblins lurking under the bed.
C’mon. You. Want. This.
I’m sure Darth’d rather be spinning in his grave with deep humiliation if he only knew he’d be paired with Yoda in a Santa suit. Darth won’t go that far, but he awkwardly holds a candy cane just to show he can be a good sport about these things.
So there you have it! Your must-have Darthness for Darthmas – a holiday EVERYONE can love. Enjoy!
If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you about our service…
What is it these days with businesses wanting to know how they’re doing? No matter where you go, who you see, what form you fill in or school you attend, there’s always some nosy person sticking a form or link in your face, begging to ask how things went, what they did right, wrong, fair-to-middling, or other such intrusive questions that you really don’t think hard and long enough to answer.
Take the other day, for instance. I had to go to the doctor. Nothing fancy, just a routine body inspection to make sure the organs weren’t grinding and bits weren’t falling off. Even got my arm stuck with a flu shot. Afterwards, I’m handed a clipboard. “Could you please fill this out?” says the nurse. “They want all of our patients to, nowadays. You know, to rate the service.”
I nod and smile, believing this is my opportunity to explode about my 3:15 appointment actually occurring at 4:10. That’d be admitting failure and besides, they already know they’d be inviting a lot more than negative responses. And it isn’t enough that patients have to fill out a lengthy questionnaire about the myriad of ailments you didn’t have, might have had or just plain had (aren’t they supposed to know this already?). They’d like to drain whatever we’ve got left in our pocket-protected pens and finish off our opinions of what was supposed to be an already lengthy process to begin with (let’s face it: NO ONE goes to the doctor believing they’re going to be in there for any less than two hours).
Then there’s the oil change I had the other day. What’s so mind blowing about a routine procedure for your car? Apparently, the place where I took it wants to know what they could do better. I really have no idea – change the little reminder sticker to a “Hello, Kitty” stick-on that blankly stares at you to take your Chevy in at 48,000? That questionnaire came in the form of a request. “If you don’t mind, could you take five minutes and go to our website and rate our service? It’ll take less than five minutes.” Having other things to do, I simply didn’t get around to it. Today, I received a phone call on both my land line and cell reminding me to do fill in that questionnaire so they can serve me better. To really get me in trouble, they called my husband’s cell, too. I guess they think a woman isn’t capable of knowing harassment when she sees it.
Amazon’s great for relentless pressure to rate your product, too. Sure, it’s terrific for books and larger items, like washer-dryers. But do I really need to review the rubber wristband for my kid’s watch? He’s going to break it anyway in about two days, and I only ordered it because I got a few CDs and it was convenient. Yeah, I get them too from every single online order I get – shows up in my mailbox that’s devoted exclusively to receiving quasi-necessary but easily forgotten emails.
Gas stations, chain restaurants, clothes stores, the babysitter…all of them need to know what I think about them. Is self-esteem in that short of supply these days? Do we really need to be patted on the back or smacked in the face? Why?
Of course, we all know the answer: Leave. Me. Alone.
The truth is, if someone’s doing a good job, they should be told about it. Praised, even. Same goes for bad work – boy, they ought to hear about it. Voluntarily. But why go asking and asking and asking? Yeah, sure, they’re going to tell you it’s all about providing you with better service. But does it really? I haven’t noticed anyone rushing to get my doctor to see me any faster. My oil change predictably gets changed every 3000 miles and the car still runs just fine. My life hasn’t been altered because of any basic, essential or throwaway service I’ve received anywhere, and that’s including the places where I actually did fill in the survey.
Tell you what. I’d love to write a short story on the person who’s filled out one too many surveys. Imagine a corporate hack processing all of these forms. He gets that one-off where the questionee provides blunt, tasteless answers. The hack checks out the person and winds up in some kind of cyber netherworld wherein he desperately tries to fulfill requests and never, ever gets it straight. Or the woman who answers a request with snarky comments. She trips down a portal and every snippety comment she makes comes back to bite her. What kind of world would those people inhabit? Or take the classic stoning scene from Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery.” Instead of stones, the woman has thousands of anonymous hands shoving questionnaires in her face. Her inability to gauge billions of satisfying or unsettling performances, accompanied by a pen with a very short supply of ink, causes her hand to tremor, leading to an exploding brain and quite messy demise.
Now imagine you. There you are, paying the tab at Blammo Burger, when the chipper, youthful customer service assistant asks you if that cheese-onion-sausage-kale-acai-pilchard beef burger met your definition of yummy. How you gonna respond?
Been a tough few weeks since I posted. And again, nothing horrible happened. Just me trying to reach the finish line.
After my, oh, sixth rewrite of my book, I finished it! I’m gasping and panting, sort of looking back at the experience, gazing upon it with bleary eyes, hoping I got it right this time.
Perhaps one of the most exciting, excruciating and frustrating things about putting a work of your own creation together is taking that rough assemblage of unruly words and whipping them into a recognizable form. I put off all forms of recreation and relaxation in order to finish, once and for all, this wonderful story I’ve drummed up in my head. My agent liked it very much, but said it needed work on the dialogue. My sister, the published author, liked the story but told me I gave out too many details when it wasn’t necessary.
Not wanting to rush through it, I read the whole thing through without doing one single edit. I wanted to absorb it, then take the suggestions of both my agent and sister and see how to fix it. I learned long ago not to take criticism personally. You can’t, not when you’re editing. Sure, it helps to have beta readers, and I did, but in the end your story’s going to have to win over the hearts of editors and publishers. There’s no room for taking criticism personally. I couldn’t.
Sure, my sister and I argued over plot points and she tossed my pages back at me when I didn’t quite understand what she was trying to tell me. You might say I have a different way of interpreting her lessons. But she didn’t write the book, I did, and if she can’t figure out what I’m saying, then how will the reader? And yes, once I read out loud my dialogue, my agent was right on the money – people don’t talk like that! Too stodgy, too boring, too…ugh…
So I fixed it all, wrote, rewrote and rewrote some more, even entire pages, until my eyes went numb. Fingers, too. And even after I rewrite the thing for the fifth time, I still wasn’t happy. I gave the whole kit-and-kaboodle one more look-over. Found those last few troublesome spots, as well as some missing commas, periods and other missing punctuation points.
And, for now, I’m done.
Boy, I showed those words a thing or two. So now, I’ll be making regular entries again. I missed my blog. A lot. But I’m doing a lot better now, having whipped my book into the best shape it’s ever been.
Oh God, what’s it been…nearly three weeks? That’s what happens when you’re surrounded by utter turmoil. No, nothing horrible happened. Just a lot of stuff going on and on and on. Adding to that, I’ve VERY DETERMINED to finish my fifth rewrite of my book so that my agent can go out and sell it already. Yeesh! I get so caught up in trying to snip a bit here, swap out a word there, punch up this bit and calm that bit down that next thing you know, all this time has passed. The good news is that I’m getting there and hope to really end the rewrites SOON.
But in the meantime, I’ve taken a break here and there to clear my head and bleary eyes. Last Saturday night was one of those opportunities. I felt like watching a movie but as we flipped through our various overpaid channels, the only things worth watching was “Star Trek – The Search for Spock” and “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” Okay, so we can pretty much quote all the lines in each movie. And hey, we could have downloaded something. Yeah, yeah, but that would’ve taken effort. In the end, we went with “RHPC.”
After all, it’s Science Fiction, right?
Who doesn’t have a story to tell about this film? Was it your first midnight show? Did you remember to carry all the accessories and toss/hurl/light at the right moments? Someone prompt you on the right times to say the right lines?
My first experience with this film was in some theatre in Manhattan…I have no idea which one. I’d like to say it was the Waverley, but I’m probably wrong. All I remember is my friends and I carried in a whole bunch of stuff, didn’t know what to do with it, fiddled around and wound up tossing things everywhere and squirting the water gun in the wrong direction at people who weren’t happy we did. Next time, I got it straight. Got everything cued up and made sure I was on the ball. After about the ninth or tenth time, I was a pro. And no, I didn’t go every Saturday night – just when it seemed like the right thing to do. See, you could go by yourself to one of these shows and no one’d notice or care. That’s the beauty of Manhattan – you do what you want and it’s cool, man.
I got to admit, Tim Curry looked really splendid in his getup as a Transylvanian Transvestite. The role suited him. And you know what? Barry Bostwick and Susan Sarandon did too. They’re all forever locked into their own time warp, playing one of their early roles over and over again, never aging, never breaking out in other roles, doomed to live in the same crazy environment until…until…it’s time to do the time warp again.
Once, I had the opportunity to see “The Rocky Horror Show,” the play upon which the film is based. My friend Carl just happened to get tickets for a midnight showing of it. See, twice a year, Broadway theaters put on performances for just their own – usually at or after midnight. Once all the theaters go dark, one stays open and puts on a performance for those who work the shows – cast, crew, house staff. Often the money raised at the door is given to a particular charity. Carl took me to one of these performances. We had fantastic seats (he knew someone, of course) and the narrator, the iconic Dick Cavett – stood about four inches away from us, reading his part. As we entered the theater, we received a bag of all the proper accessories to make the performance complete. Carl HAD NEVER SEEN THE MOVIE and so I had to go through the bag and let him in on when one uses the contents.
Oh God, what a great evening that was. I have to say it’s much better than watching the usual live performers who act out the movie in front of it…although there’s a lot to be said for them, too. As I hopped out of my cab at 3:00 am, I was awful glad I took the next day off from work (it was a Friday, anyway) and it seemed like I was in on something. A secret club, maybe.
Now, there’s a tribute to the 40th anniversary of the movie. YouTube had this posted from NBC’s “Today Show”:
It gives you the rundown of the 40 glorious years this movie’s been on screens throughout the world.
But perhaps the most important thing from the film is this: its underlying message. It’s a good one to carry around with you, no matter where you go or what you do.
Autumn, fall, change of the seasons, whatever you call it, occurs in the northern hemisphere on September 23 at 8:20 UTC. It’s a time when things start winding down in gardens, the kids are probably already back in school and you’re looking at your heating bill with a bit of trepidation, knowing that winter’s beating a steady path to your door.
But let’s stick with autumn for now.
Autumn occurs when the sun hits a point in the sky called the autumnal equinox, or here:
Credit: H.A. Rey, “The Stars”
It’s the little “V” you see underneath Virgo’s head, as if she fell down and tripped on the ecliptic (the path in the sky where the sun, moon and stars “travel” along the zodiac). The sun hits this spot on or about 21 September each year, but as noted above, this year it falls on the 23 September. But if you look in the newspaper or even on many weather web sites, you’ll notice that the times of sunrise and sunset are anything but equal. It’s close, but not exactly 12 hours of day and dark. A lot of that depends upon your latitude. The further south you go, that date creeps into October.
Here’s a handy chart to show sunrise and sunset times for New York You’ll see day and night aren’t equal until September 26. Why? You’ll find an explanation here.
This National Geographic video explains not only the autumnal equinox, but also nifty cultural practices that go along with it.
(You might want to watch it before Rupert Murdoch gets ahold of it and turns it into an exploitive clip about the sun ripping off the nighttime sky by getting dark earlier and earlier).
Want to hear the definitive theme song of autumn? Here’s a short, catchy tune by the band Screeching Weasel called “First Day of Autumn”:
Most important of all, nighttime sky watches CAN’T MISS the total eclipse of the moon! It takes place on September 27/28, 2015. Click here for details to look out for it in your neck of the woods. In New York, it actually begins at a decent time, starting at 8:11 pm, with the full eclipse occurring at 10:11 and lasting until 10:47. If you haven’t seen a total lunar eclipse, it’s worth watching. It’s a slow process, but you’ll have time to truly enjoy it. Don’t take your eyes off of it between 9:50 and 10:15 – watching the moon turn red is the coolest thing ever. Break out your binoculars!
Moon, Stars and Beyond 