Telescope Reviews: A post having somewhat to do with my Lurie

Telescope makers have all sorts of problems, not enough glass, not enough pitch, and lots of time but with not enough money.

My story is far more intensely personal. Yes, I've had the above problems, but I've made more than a moderate number of telescopes.

What I wish to speak of is beyond these problems, and yet do involve my Lurie in 1978. Some of this is so intense.

In my life I have suffered extreme depressions, such that I have been in an institution six times now, because I was a danger only to myself and never others. Loose wards, locked wards, the whole 9 yards.

My first appearance at the institution was in 1978 while I was building my Lurie, when I could no longer even look at the lenses I was grinding. It was a relatively loose ward called Day Hospital where the staff kept us for 6 hours a day, using, medication management, group therapy, and one-on-one stuff. So I went though the process and began to feel a little better and, like the others, I was allowed to go home at night.

All well and good, until the day at the hospital, they announced the following day would involve "arts and crafts."
What the heck did I know about arts and crafts? And NO, no one was ever weaving baskets, as in that overused idea about what goes on in mental institutions. So I asked the person in charge, "What does this mean? He responded that I could bring in anything I wanted as long as it was craft related.

So I went home, could look at least at my Lurie lenses, selected a tool and lens ground to 220 grit. Put them in a padded bag with some 320 grit and a plastic water glass and went back to the hospital for arts and crafts. Everyone brought something; the ladies seem to be sewing and doing collages; some of the men did some very intense artwork, and then there's Turco, over in a corner...

Rubbing two glasses together with a grinding noise.

This attracted some attention. A Candy Striper came over and kindly asked what this was all about. I explained that I was grinding a telescope lens; she smiled and then went away. A little later, a nurse came over and asked the same question, got the same answer, seemed satisfied and went away. These people were making me lose my count of strokes and rotations, but at last alone, I hit my stride, until...

My DOCTOR walks in! He comes over to me and asked,

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm making a lens for my telescope."

The Doctor thinks very deeply, as all shrinks do and then asked,

"Are you really making a telescope, or are you fantacising about making a telescope?"

!!!!!

I hope someone will print this and use this story at Stellafane as my epitaph during their "Shadowgram". It will be my most appropriate good-bye when my time comes.

Ed