We are losing the stars in our sky. Many are lost and we lose more every day. Have they fallen, or been absorbed into a black hole? No, they are lost because no one looks at them, and no one looks at them because you cannot see them. It is the curse of electricity; there are just too many lights making stars difficult to see.

Every stargazing article or guide says about the same thing: “Find a dark place without lights.” It is becoming harder and harder to do. If you are not in the middle of the ocean, in the desert, or way out in the country away from lights, the stars are vanishing. So less and less of us are looking. Children are not taught about constellations, planet orbits and their stories and myths except in classrooms. Hence, we are losing our stars.

We spent the night in Death Valley once. It was the Princesses first time to see so many stars. In Alaska, stargazing was limited to winter, and when you were far from lights, you were far from warmth, so the sessions tended to be short. In the desert, we could see them, and stayed up all night as we saw, learned, and taught.

There was a time, not so very long ago, when our country was dark when the sun went down. People had little to do but go to bed, or stay up and look at the stars. They saw such things as meteor showers, comets, eclipses, and the shadow of Venus.

Did you know there was such a thing as the shadow of Venus? It was a recent discovery for my family. On moonless nights, away from the influence of city lights, when Venus is low in the southwestern sky, it is bright enough to cast shadows.

During the not-so-very-long-time-ago, stars were important. Civilizations made calendars by them and predicted the future, farmers planted, lovers committed to a new generation in their soft light, and explorers and sailors discovered the world by their guide.

When our family was preparing for our three-year sojourn aboard our sailing vessel Starchaser, the stars became important to us. I studied celestial navigation, not because we would use it, but because I wanted to know, and if we ever needed it, it was there. In the middle of the ocean, the stars became our very close friends.

What a comfort it was to find the Big Dipper, Ursa Major, follow the point of the front two stars of the dipper to find Polaris, the North Star. It is still comforting to us. The Admiral and I will go out in the backyard just to see it. We then know where we are, feel founded, and all is right with the world.

Between October and April, Orion and the Dog Star, Sirius, are my friends. I can tell the time by their position in the sky and, I wonder if Sirius will ever catch his master.

If you haven’t met the stars, learned their stories, or taught them, do so before we lose them altogether. Electricity is a wonderful thing, but save a little. Turn out the lights, go outside, look up, and save the stars. You’ll be amazed who is there ready to make your acquaintance … again.

David Wilson Atwood is a local writer whose human interest columns offer a unique perspective. He may be contacted, and his other works viewed at www.starchasers.us, or david@starchasers.us.