Two Tales Most Moonly
The DH (dear husband) and I have an autumnal tradition beginning in September of going into downtown St. Pete, which overlooks Tampa Bay, to watch the full moon-rise. We carry this through also into October, which usually is a nicer moon as the air is drier than in September, but it is September's trip that got my bowels bunched.
So, we're driving down 5th Avenue to the water and it occurs to me that our moon has no name. We call it The Moon, but it has no proper name. All the other planets in the solar system have moons, and they all have been given proper names. I ran this through my mind and it gave me a headache. I said to Bob, "Hey, I just realized the moon doesn't have a name. That sucks." Of course, Bob said, "Yes it does. It's the Moon." It makes me so mad when he does that, I mean, obviously we call the moon, the Moon, but why, why, why does it not have its own proper name?
I did some research. The dictionary defines the word Moon as follows: 1. the only natural satellite of the earth, being responsible (with the sun) for it's tidal action or 2. any planetary satellite.
This frosted my canastas even more. The Moon has the awesome responsibility of all earthly tides, yet somewhere along the line it didn't get named. The problem with the whole "lets get pissed the moon has no name" movement is nobody seems accountable for the fact that we just passed into the second millenium and our Moon is still a nameless face in the sky.
Becoming obsessed as I was with the Moon Naming phenomenon, I went out to the web to see if I could find what sort of lucky Named Moons there are out there. They all have names! To make matters worse, they all have COOL names, or certainly enigmatic names, the sort of name where you knit your brow and wonder, "where the Sam Hill did they get THAT?" Sheesh, I'd settle for a goofy name at this point, any Melvin sort of name would work now, at this late date. Some old John Doe moon name would be just as good as "The Moon."
Seeing all those cool moon names really brings home how much we are missing. We'll never get Adrastea, Callisto or Europa now. In fact, Jupiter has bogarted all the good moon names, in my opinion. Whoever was in charge of Jupiter Moon Naming was on his game; he started his day with a hearty breakfast and good coffee at Bob Evans, sharpened his pencil and said, "All RIGHT, let's name some damn MOONS." Mr. Jupiter Moon Naming Guy (you know it was a guy) wasn't bothered that Jupiter has like 17 moons, he was ready to name 'em all-he was pumped, he was psyched, he KNEW his mythology. While Mr. Earth Moon Naming Guy (you just know it was a guy) slept in late, didn't sign in on time, wasn't registered and went home to watch Fear Factor on TV instead of naming one lousy moon. The deadline lapsed for naming our moon and it won't come around again until 2030 or something. So we're stuck with Nameless Moon. I can't figure out anything that can be done about it. It's just such a shame.
Anyway, onto Tale Two Most Moonly. You will think I'm making this one up but I swear it's true. So DH and I and Samson (our dog) are downtown in St. Pete in September waiting for the moon to come up. This is also a problem. It has been my understanding from numerous reading that the full moon rises at sunset. So the DH goes on line or looks in the paper on the appointed day and says, "the sun sets at 7:05." We bust a gussie to get downtown at 7, so as not to miss the moon rise, but it's a no-show. 7:20, 7:40. It's full dark now, but no moon. This is where the DH commences to say, "I think the moon is on vacation. It didn't get the memo." And I always say, "I don't think the paper tells the true sunset because it was still light out way past 7:05." Then, the DH and I get into this same heated discussion of how the true sunset doesn't mean it's DARK, it's the setting of the sun at a certain level in the sky or something technical that schmoes like us don't know about. We're acting like some kind of Carl Sagan wannabe's discussing perihilions and archs and such, but to be fair, there isn't anything ELSE to do, with the moon late and all. The fact is, the moon is always LATE coming up and so we end up on the park bench until our asses get sore and finally, when I am about to say, let's get the hell out of here, and the dog is nodding agreement, the moon comes up.
Well, it was worth the wait because September's full moon was a big huge red fireball for the first 20 minutes or so. Once the moon puts in its appearance, it works fast but getting it to that point is agony. So there we are, on the bench with the dog, watching this big huge red fireball of a moon rise and a woman walks by with a friend, stops, looks at us looking at the moon and said, "What is that in the sky?" I was so SHOCKED, I thought maybe I was missing something, like the space shuttle or an alien attack, so I said, just as strangely, "What do you mean?" and she looked at me like I was nuts and said, "That big red thing in the sky, what is that?" and I must have almost swallowed my tongue or had my eyes bugged out because I simply could not imagine that a middle aged woman didn't KNOW THE MOON WHEN SHE SAW IT!! I mean, she was totally serious. I said, "Well, that's the MOON!" and she was so embarrassed that I think she could have jumped gladly into Tampa Bay and I would have gladly helped her. She said, "Oh, my, I never thought of the Moon!" which made me start wondering about stuff all over again. Like, what did she THINK it might be if not the Moon? Think on that for awhile, then lie down with a cold compress and pretend the moon has a name and all is right with the world.
So anyway, although we probably shall continue our moon watching through November, it isn't the innocent past time it seems on first glance. I still have a bad brain cramp and bowel bunch over it and October's big full moon only reinforced it. There's the moon, all bright and beautiful, masterfully commanding tides but sadly without a proper name, and you can see how this lack of respect has led to peeps completely forgetting it even exists. I bet if our Moon was named "Sinope" that woman would remember it was in the sky, but Jupiter Moon Naming Guy already got that one. Sigh.
So, we're driving down 5th Avenue to the water and it occurs to me that our moon has no name. We call it The Moon, but it has no proper name. All the other planets in the solar system have moons, and they all have been given proper names. I ran this through my mind and it gave me a headache. I said to Bob, "Hey, I just realized the moon doesn't have a name. That sucks." Of course, Bob said, "Yes it does. It's the Moon." It makes me so mad when he does that, I mean, obviously we call the moon, the Moon, but why, why, why does it not have its own proper name?
I did some research. The dictionary defines the word Moon as follows: 1. the only natural satellite of the earth, being responsible (with the sun) for it's tidal action or 2. any planetary satellite.
This frosted my canastas even more. The Moon has the awesome responsibility of all earthly tides, yet somewhere along the line it didn't get named. The problem with the whole "lets get pissed the moon has no name" movement is nobody seems accountable for the fact that we just passed into the second millenium and our Moon is still a nameless face in the sky.
Becoming obsessed as I was with the Moon Naming phenomenon, I went out to the web to see if I could find what sort of lucky Named Moons there are out there. They all have names! To make matters worse, they all have COOL names, or certainly enigmatic names, the sort of name where you knit your brow and wonder, "where the Sam Hill did they get THAT?" Sheesh, I'd settle for a goofy name at this point, any Melvin sort of name would work now, at this late date. Some old John Doe moon name would be just as good as "The Moon."
Seeing all those cool moon names really brings home how much we are missing. We'll never get Adrastea, Callisto or Europa now. In fact, Jupiter has bogarted all the good moon names, in my opinion. Whoever was in charge of Jupiter Moon Naming was on his game; he started his day with a hearty breakfast and good coffee at Bob Evans, sharpened his pencil and said, "All RIGHT, let's name some damn MOONS." Mr. Jupiter Moon Naming Guy (you know it was a guy) wasn't bothered that Jupiter has like 17 moons, he was ready to name 'em all-he was pumped, he was psyched, he KNEW his mythology. While Mr. Earth Moon Naming Guy (you just know it was a guy) slept in late, didn't sign in on time, wasn't registered and went home to watch Fear Factor on TV instead of naming one lousy moon. The deadline lapsed for naming our moon and it won't come around again until 2030 or something. So we're stuck with Nameless Moon. I can't figure out anything that can be done about it. It's just such a shame.
Anyway, onto Tale Two Most Moonly. You will think I'm making this one up but I swear it's true. So DH and I and Samson (our dog) are downtown in St. Pete in September waiting for the moon to come up. This is also a problem. It has been my understanding from numerous reading that the full moon rises at sunset. So the DH goes on line or looks in the paper on the appointed day and says, "the sun sets at 7:05." We bust a gussie to get downtown at 7, so as not to miss the moon rise, but it's a no-show. 7:20, 7:40. It's full dark now, but no moon. This is where the DH commences to say, "I think the moon is on vacation. It didn't get the memo." And I always say, "I don't think the paper tells the true sunset because it was still light out way past 7:05." Then, the DH and I get into this same heated discussion of how the true sunset doesn't mean it's DARK, it's the setting of the sun at a certain level in the sky or something technical that schmoes like us don't know about. We're acting like some kind of Carl Sagan wannabe's discussing perihilions and archs and such, but to be fair, there isn't anything ELSE to do, with the moon late and all. The fact is, the moon is always LATE coming up and so we end up on the park bench until our asses get sore and finally, when I am about to say, let's get the hell out of here, and the dog is nodding agreement, the moon comes up.
Well, it was worth the wait because September's full moon was a big huge red fireball for the first 20 minutes or so. Once the moon puts in its appearance, it works fast but getting it to that point is agony. So there we are, on the bench with the dog, watching this big huge red fireball of a moon rise and a woman walks by with a friend, stops, looks at us looking at the moon and said, "What is that in the sky?" I was so SHOCKED, I thought maybe I was missing something, like the space shuttle or an alien attack, so I said, just as strangely, "What do you mean?" and she looked at me like I was nuts and said, "That big red thing in the sky, what is that?" and I must have almost swallowed my tongue or had my eyes bugged out because I simply could not imagine that a middle aged woman didn't KNOW THE MOON WHEN SHE SAW IT!! I mean, she was totally serious. I said, "Well, that's the MOON!" and she was so embarrassed that I think she could have jumped gladly into Tampa Bay and I would have gladly helped her. She said, "Oh, my, I never thought of the Moon!" which made me start wondering about stuff all over again. Like, what did she THINK it might be if not the Moon? Think on that for awhile, then lie down with a cold compress and pretend the moon has a name and all is right with the world.
So anyway, although we probably shall continue our moon watching through November, it isn't the innocent past time it seems on first glance. I still have a bad brain cramp and bowel bunch over it and October's big full moon only reinforced it. There's the moon, all bright and beautiful, masterfully commanding tides but sadly without a proper name, and you can see how this lack of respect has led to peeps completely forgetting it even exists. I bet if our Moon was named "Sinope" that woman would remember it was in the sky, but Jupiter Moon Naming Guy already got that one. Sigh.