I was going to my corner deli the other night in my little part of Brooklyn when I passed by some folks looking earnestly through a handsome telescope planted sturdily on the street. I got my groceries resolving not to bother them. But on my way back past the stargazers, my curiosity got the better of me and so I went over.

"What are you looking at?" I asked, amazed that anybody could see anything from the heart of the big city. "Jupiter," said David, the owner of the telescope, with a fair degree of pride. "Wanna see?"

You bet I did. I put down my groceries and my eye to the viewer and, lo and behold, there was the planet, that turbulent "eye" (actually swirling clouds) clearly visible, and I could even see the moons Ganymede and Io. I was astonished. I asked David where on a power scale of 1 to 10 (with 1 being the cheapest and 10 being Hubble) he'd put his telescope, and he said "4". He and his friends had already taken a good look at Venus, the Evening Star, that had already "set" in the West, and had spotted Neptune. The air was clear, there was no moon, and there was no wind: perfect for looking up and roving around the solar system.

I thanked David, and went home, wholly transported by the fact that I could see Jupiter, a mere 365 million miles from where I was standing, admittedly with a nifty telescope. It somehow made me feel blessed to know that Jupiter, the Bringer of Joy was looking down benignly upon us all.