Orion doesn’t do dishes

I always get stuck with the dishes during the holidays. Not even dish-pan hands, however, can dampen my enthusiasm for the season. Nature smiles on us this time of year. November is when Orion, the constellation of the hunter, starts rising over the eastern horizon in the evening. Right now it’s rising about two hours after sunset, which is after I’ve put the dishes away. It’s as if the wily old hunter was hiding out from kitchen chores before joining us for the evening.

While everybody else adjourns to the study for hot toddies and Pictionary, I figure I’ll say a few words about Orion. It’s one of the best-known features of the sky, and it’s recognized in a worldwide array of cultures, be they modern or ancient.

In fact, there are caveman depictions of Orion that are over 30,000 years old. At the modern end of the spectrum, I’ll note that the Web has all sorts of information about Orion, so anyone who is interested can easily get up to speed on the topic.

Everyone on Saipan has heard of “ginseng,” an herb common in Asian medicine. The Chinese character for ginseng is said to have originated as the character for Orion’s three-star belt.

Those three stars form a bright, neat line which is the easiest way to identify Orion. Other prominent features are the red supergiant star Betelgeuse, which is one of Orion’s shoulders; the bright star Rigel, which is one of his feet; and the several stars that form the sword that hangs down from the belt.

That sword is one of the most photographed regions of the sky. If you have clear skies, the unaided eye can see a glowing region about mid-way down the sword. It looks like a fuzzy star. That’s where the Orion Nebula is. It’s a cosmic fluorescent light, a glowing body of gas that is giving birth to stars. Even a mediocre pair of binoculars will reveal this as a dramatic sight, and even a small telescope will reveal newborn stars that are swaddled in the cosmic gas they came from.

As easy as it is to see from Earth, the Orion Nebula is actually very distant. It’s 1,300 light-years away, which is roughly eight-thousand-trillion miles. Want some cosmic drama? Some stars have been flung out of this region, becoming castaways, and they’ve even found lonely planets that are orphans with no suns to orbit. The more they peer into this oven of cosmic creation, the weirder it gets.

I’d never try to sell anyone on the notion of turning off the TV and tuning in to the cosmos, but for those who are so inclined anyway, I’ll say that if you’re looking for a starting point you can’t do any better than Orion.

That’s one point my parents agreed on. When I was a kid, my dad, a naval officer, taught me the important navigational stars. For her part, Mom had a great old book called The Stars by Clock and Fist, by Henry M. Neely, which taught a useful method to eyeball your way around the sky.

My parents used Orion as a starting point because even a snot-nosed moron like me could find it, and because the arrival of Orion marked the departure of the mosquitos. We could go outside after dinner without becoming something else’s dessert. A few weeks later, ice-and-snow season would be with us. So Orion in late autumn was a window between mosquito bites and frostbite.

Those who take an interest in Orion quickly find that it’s a useful guidepost to other stars in the region. The star Betelgeuse serves as a rough center for an array of stars that form a loose perimeter around it. These are: Sirius, Procyon, Pollux, Castor, Capella, Aldebaran (with the Pleiades, a cluster of stars, nearby), and Rigel.

Incidentally, the Japanese name for the Pleiades is “Subaru,” yes, that’s the same Subaru as the brand of automobile. If you look at the Subaru logo, you’ll notice that it depicts a group of stars.

I can’t ever pass up a chance to mention Castor, which has an interesting story. Castor is actually a family of six stars that are orbiting each other as in a trio of pairs. Through a telescope each of the pairs shows a visible star, so it’s a three-star view in the eyepiece. Castor and neighbor Pollux are the twins in Gemini, so if you’re a Gemini you’ve got some very interesting stellar action going for you.

As for Rigel, it marks the entry to a long constellation called Eridanus, which winds its way south and culminates at the bright star Achernar. Many of your friends in the mainland can’t see it; it’s too far south. But from Saipan it’s an easy shot, at least if you pick the right time.

Anyway, we’re just scratching the surface here, but the point is that Orion, and all it brings with it, is an impressive sight. It doesn’t take any equipment, or books, or fancy training to appreciate it; five minutes on the Web is more than enough to get anyone started.

Do enjoy the view. Me, I’ll have to excuse myself. It’s time to go back inside. Toddies are being served and teams are being formed for Pictionary. I’m the last pick again, which, like Orion’s appearance, is an unshakable holiday tradition.