Seeing stars is simple as turning down the lights

Jack Sales headed down the path to becoming an activist when he went into his Citrus Heights backyard some 20 years ago.

He looked upward. He didn't like what he saw.

In fact, he couldn't see much at all. The sky wasn't dark enough.

A decade later, the grocery store six blocks from his house installed two floodlights, apparently with the idea that the parking lot would seem safer and more welcoming. It seemed pointless to even bother with his telescope by then.

"It literally changed the light in my backyard," said Sales, shaking his head at the memory. "It made me say, 'Hey, we have to do something about that.'"

Practically gone were all the wondrous things he used to be able to spot when he was a kid. Sure, the planets were all where they were supposed to be. So were the Milky Way and the Big Dipper.

But the night sky was so bright -- so flooded with lights near and far and so much more aglow than the dark skies he recalled from his youth -- that Sales began to fume.

He become a warrior in the little-known issue of light pollution. He joined the International Dark-Sky Association and began learning about lighting and how our cities have made a major, perhaps irreparable dent on the dark of night.

He learned that night skies throughout the nation had become increasingly overwhelmed by a kind of pollution that didn't clog lungs or pollute rivers or command much attention.

These days, Sales is one of the most respected and determined light pollution activists in the state.

A retired civilian employee at McClellan Air Force Base, Sales is neither loud nor pushy. He hits people with facts and goes wherever he has to go to make his point. The issue tends to consume him.

"I may be upset by it, but Jack is very dedicated to it," said fellow light pollution activist Glen Youman, who lives in Penryn.

Kris Koenig, director of the Kiwanis Chico Community Observatory, said, "One of the reasons Jack is able to do so much about this issue is because he goes in with such a sense of logic about it. He's a great champion of the cause."

Sales is not against lights per se. He simply wants less lighting, smarter lighting and, most of all, he wants more people to start thinking about lighting.

He has what light pollution opponents might call Exhibit A at the end of his driveway -- a street lamp that throws light all over the place.

"It's on my list of things to get changed," he said. "Of course, it's one of the reasons I am a lighting activist."

Those kinds of fixtures lack shields, allowing the light to go where it's not intended -- and not wanted. A street light, he explains, is supposed to direct light downward at its intended target.

A shield prevents it from going outward and upward, the kind of light that, when you add up all the other wrongheaded light fixtures, leaves the night sky glowing.

"People look down at our city from the foothills and say, 'Look at all the pretty lights," said Sales. "They don't realize that every photon that hits your eye -- and there are billions of them -- is wasted energy."

The dark sky movement began near Tucson, home to one of the nation's premier observatories, Kitt Peak. As Tucson grew, it also began to glow. The observatory was losing its effectiveness. Some cities developed laws to place limits on lighting.

Astronomers, out of necessity, may have been the first light pollution activists, but Sales insists even those who don't know a telescope from a periscope should be interested in the issue.

For one thing, wasted light is wasted energy. For another, excess light could affect our circadian rhythms that influence sleeping and waking patterns. And then there's the simple pleasure of peering upward and gazing at the stars.

Koenig believes light pollution has played a role in the dwindling numbers of American students graduating with science degrees. Looking at the stars and wondering about the world beyond our own is one of the main things that triggers a child's interest in science, he says.

"We have shut off the night sky to our kids," said Koenig.

Many will argue that lights make them feel safer, that lighting backyards and street corners and parking lots deters crime. Sales doesn't see it that way.

"There are millions and millions of lights on all over the country where no one is at," said Sales, "If no one is there to see it, how does that deter crime?"

Sales favors motion detector lights. They come on only when needed.

Koenig says bright lights can actually make areas less safe.

"By over-lighting areas, we create dark shadows and that's where criminals lurk," he explained.

Sales is devoted, but he's not perfect. During an interview at the dining table off the kitchen, Sales was asked about the lights burning atop his entertainment center in the adjacent -- and empty -- living room.

"I forgot to turn them off, to be honest," he said with a shrug.

Recently, Sales made his quiet activism very local when he walked across the street and let his neighbor know the light above her garage could be better -- for her and her neighbors -- by directing the beam downward.

He got out his ladder and installed a new fixture.

About the writer:

• The Bee's Blair Anthony Robertson can be reached at (916) 321-1099 or brobertson@sacbee.com.