At Sea

Stars have been auspicious omens for many thousands of years. Long, long ago, when our race first settled together into towns and cities, they watched the night skies above their fields and homes and told stories of what they saw there. Sumerian, Mesoamerican, Chinese, in all the earliest centers of knowledge and civilization astronomers observed heavenly phenomena and recorded their ideas in the world’s first languages. Some stars were fixed relative to one another and rolled through the nights and seasons in a stately, orderly procession. Others, just a few, wandered among them. Rarest of all were those that only appeared briefly and irregularly, sometimes shining with the greatest glory of all. What did it all mean? Did their motions guide or portend the lives of men on Earth?

Even today these ancient stories touch our lives. The Hunter, The Great Bear, The Twins, The Scorpion, The Southern Cross, many of us never see them in our nights of electric light, but we know their names by heart.

Star, as a verb, means to stand out, to be preeminent. As a noun it is a synonym for excellence. We call the lights of our culture "stars": movie stars, rock and roll stars, stars of stage and screen. We award stars to military leaders and first graders. We all learn to draw them as soon as we can hold a crayon and we recognize them everywhere: starflower, star sapphires, sea stars.

Today, as we cruise across the Drake Passage, the Star of Christmas shines in the skies overhead, in the seas below us and in our hearts. It is the icon of the holiday season, of fellowship, renewal and promise. And it is a very auspicious omen for the beginning of our journey to Antarctica.