An open letter to my Dob:

[Seanelly]

Dear Cyclops, what has happened to us? This is not where I expected to be 20 years after I picked you up in Montreal.
Remember? It was love at first sight. We were so happy then, Cy, just the two of us. We went everywhere, saw everything 
together. So many late nights! Your primary mirror was the window to my soul. You were low maintenance-so low in fact 
that I never regretted not coughing up the extra dough for insurance. You never asked for a thing in return, were always 
a pleasure to transport as you lay quietly tied up in the back of the car with your own thoughts. You never complained, 
and responded instantly to my touch, and always had the answers to my deepest existential questions like, Wow, what the 
hell is that? The only thing that came close to my feelings for you were my feelings for my camera. And that is where 
the trouble began.

You know that I've always loved taking photographs. I have since the days of my youth when a Polaroid Instamatic made a
quick entrance into the family and then a quicker exit when underwater photography was suggested. And that is why recently
I began to question our relationship. Could it be possible to combine my two passions somehow to take pictures of the 
astronomical objects I so loved to look at? How could this be done? Had anyone ever tried it before? So many questions. 
But it soon became apparent that not only were people already taking pictures of astronomical objects, they were taking 
them far better than I ever would. 

So the thought simmered, but lingered, and then as relative time passed, I caught myself perusing the want adds of our 
surrounding astronomy retailers. Just looking, I kidded myself and you, who from the corner of the den kept your big eye
over my shoulder the whole time I'd be at the computer. But soon my wandering gaze was not satisfied with pictures in 
magazines or on the laptop. At star parties, when you weren't looking, I caught myself eyeing other telescopes. The sleek 
hard-bodied kind called refractors that apparently are ideal for this newfangled thing I'd named Astrophotography. Then one 
day, I swear I don't know how it happened, I found myself at our local retailer, checking out the merchandise. Okay I admit 
it: I was wondering if I'd be happier with one of them instead of you. 

Well, the good news was that I could indeed get myself set up to take astro photos. The bad news was that it couldn't be with
you. But then more good news: I decided to keep you anyway. I know, we've been through all this and I'm sorry. I just have to 
get it all out in the open so we can move on, or if the fates decree, then part ways while you are still young enough to find 
somebody else. Stop it, you're clouding up your mirror again.

It's too soon to say where all this is leading. Yes, all my time lately has been spent with EvoStar, though of course, it has 
not been all heavenly. Eve can be temperamental and stubborn as hell, and can frustrate me to no end. But there is something 
new and fresh and exciting about this new relationship, and until I can sort out all my feelings toward the both of you, you
will have to wait and see what the outcome will be.

And if it be that we must part, remember, we will always have Orion.
 

[Geoff Barnes]

Oh Sean, that brought a tear to my eye. ?

[Gina]

Marvelous!

[niallk]

I will never cheat on my dob.

 

(Using my Lunt Ha refractor isn't doing the dirt, is it... ?? I'm never with it at night)