Last evening as we were driving home from a wonderful Thanksgiving with the Crankee Yankee’s daughter and her husband and our two granddaughters, the moon was full. It was much larger than usual, and hung like a magnificent silvery coin in the sky.
As we drove home, the sky darkened from blue to blue-black; a spectacular backdrop for this amazing moon. We could see and admire it all the way home. There is something magical about a full moon, and say what you will, it has a pull and an effect on us.
I remember when I was in summer stock at the Barnstormers Theater in Tamworth, NH. We had just finished our dress rehersal for “Our Town,” and we cast members walked back to our rooms at the Tamworth Inn. There was a beautiful full moon that warm summer night, and two of the older ladies paused to look up at it.
One of them sighed and said to her friend, “you know, it’s just not the same since the moon landing, is it?”
We giggled about that at the time, but now I realize that she was right. Landing on the moon, as exciting and as noteworthy as it was, felt as if we had besmirched the moon somehow with our presence. Somehow it took away some of the mystery of the moon.
For me, the full moon has always been a hopeful thing; remote, yet kindly showing her full face to us every now and then. I like to think that she has an affection for our Earth, whether she is in full, three quarters, half or a thin glowing crescent slice. Our nearest neighbor, cold and remote though she may be, she kindly lights the sky for us so that we may see our way home.