I love Lick Observatory. It was built well over a hundred years ago on a peak that is 4,200 feet high in the Diablo Range to the east in San Jose. There are a number of domes at the observatory, and you can see them on the ridge from downtown San Jose and from around Silicon Valley.

Recently, the newly-hired President of the University of California, Ms. Janet Napolitano, announced that the facility will be closing for financial reasons. Since 1888, the University of California has operated Lick Observatory. Citizens, scientists, students, business leaders and political lawmakers have drafted letters and begun campaigns to save the observatory. Today, my U.S. Representative Zoe Lofgren was one of 35 members of California’s Democratic Congressional delegation that urged the U.C. President to keep the observatory open. The text of the press release can be found at this address:

I, too, have written to Ms. Napolitano, and explained to her the positive impact this institution has had, and continues to have, on San Jose, greater Silicon Valley, the UC System, and the larger, global community. As a San Jose resident, I have felt a swelling of pride every time I have read an announcement, such as a discovery of a planet, hailing from the local observatory. I have driven up there many times over the years, for daytime tours of the facility and for evening summer programs. Years ago, in 1986 to be precise, I and many, many others drove the long and winding road built in the 1870s at a seven per-cent grade because that was the maximum for horses pulling large loads. Independently, people all over Santa Clara County chose the one viewing area they knew to be the best. The good people working at Lick Observatory did not sanction this event; it just happened. While most of us that night may have been unsophisticated in the night sky, two points were a given: First, Halley’s Comet was worth seeing, and second, Lick Observatory was the best place to view it unobscured, since it was soon to leave our field of view and not return for another 75 years. I am certain that no one drove down the mountain that night disappointed. Mars was gorgeous, too, if memory serves me correctly.

When touring the Lick facility, with its beautiful observatory buildings, the guide will probably tell you there are 365 curves in the road, one for every day of the year. True, it’s not the easiest road to drive, but can you imagine doing it on horseback or in a wagon? Once there, it’s an amazing sight. I remember looking east from atop this vantage point some years ago, clearly seeing the snow-covered mountains of the Sierra Nevada range, about 130 miles away. Instantly, that image was indelibly captured in my mind’s eye. And while there is an old photograph that was taken from Mt. Hamilton of the Sierra Nevada range on display inside the visitors’ center, it’s the night-time work that goes on there that is, well, stellar. Just a very few of the discoveries at Lick are moons of Jupiter, asteroids, and planet systems, and now Lick scientists are using the first ever robotic telescope to find planets near stars close to earth. (

Lick Observatory is a jewel, physically, and metaphorically. It is the vista I seek every time I am a few blocks away from my home in my urban neighborhood in San Jose, and can look out to see the Diablo Range, and specifically, the highest point capped with white domes. The history of the observatory is fascinating. The science is top-notch. What I find inspirational is that as Silicon Valley is home to thinkers and scientists working on the most minute of scales, with computer designs smaller and operations faster, thinkers and scientists at Lick Observatory use the same precision to make discoveries in the largest of fields, our solar system and universe. It is fitting that San Jose, and Santa Clara Valley, be called “home” to the industry of science representing both scales of exploration.

I know that other sources of funding are being explored and ascertained by business and government leaders, and as a citizen, I urge you to keep this monument to history, science, and our future, fully operational. There are ways we can all help. Below I’ve added a few links so you can see for yourself this historic, remarkable facility that continues to do fabulous work.

If you’re a history buff, or if you just like a good tale, you’ll enjoy reading about the man, James Lick. There’s intrigue in this bio; he survived a storm at sea in South America only to be taken prisoner, and then made his escape. There’s a lot of talk of gold, and some of heartbreak, and idiosyncrasies (Lick had trees planted upside-down!), and chocolate, Domingo Ghiradelli’s chocolate, to be exact. James Lick figures prominently in the gorgeous Conservatory of Flowers open today in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. He almost had a giant pyramid built, but thankfully, science won that argument and the observatory came into being. Go to:

Click on the following link for fabulous photos:

If you live in the area or are planning a trip, you can hear some great music this summer at 4,200 feet. The “Music of the Spheres” Concert series, held annually each summer, gives you two great reasons to visit Lick Observatory. Not only do you get to enjoy a concert, you will also observe through the Great Lick Refractor and the Nickel Reflector. Go to :

Lick Observatory offers another wonderful program each summer. You can observe through both the 36-inch Great Lick Refractor and the Nickel 40-inch Reflecting Telescope. Also, you will hear two speakers who will present programs even if the clouds or fog prohibit viewing. Check the web site for further information and to buy tickets, which are very reasonably priced. The Summer Visitors Program information is found at:

Whether you can get to Lick Observatory or not, you can help save it. Click on the link below to join “Friends of Lick Observatory.”

Or, you can go to this page to: Make a donation; Get the address of UC President Janet Napolitano so you, too, can write to her; and Get the address of the UC Regents to send them some mail. But here’s what I really love — Lick Observatory wants to hear from you. Do you have any ideas to save this treasure? Click on:

Thanks, folks.

Kathy Galgano
April 24, 2014






For all the years I have been visiting Andy’s Pet Shop in the building with the colorfully painted jungle animal murals covering the façade, and now at the large location in downtown San José, I have enjoyed the company and friendship of one Ruby. Always quick to greet me and everyone who walked through the glass doors, this gorgeous scarlet macaw welcomed all with an upbeat, “Hello Ruby!”

Kids loved her. Customers loved her. Visitors loved her. I loved her, and so did my dog Snowy, except perhaps when she bit him through the cage after she had kissed him with a lick. The staff loved her, although they wouldn’t be very happy with her when she went for the proverbial jugular, and immediately followed up the attempt of a bite with a cackle that had to make you smile.

It took months before I won Ruby’s confidence, but eventually I was able to stroke her soft feathers on the side of her head, and Ruby would close her eyes in relaxation and trust. And I would extend my index finger into the cage and Ruby would hold onto it with her talon and even stand on my finger perch. I couldn’t get too complacent, though; inevitably Ruby would make a move for my finger with her beak, and usually I pulled my hand away just in time, and my clever buddy would cackle. How she loved that game.

The first time I held her, she got me but good. I can’t remember if she drew blood, but I learned through conversation with the young and very talented staff that when a macaw bites, instead of tearing your finger away, you push it in, toward the beak. It’s a counter-intuitive movement, but it works. And then Ruby would cackle and I would laugh and she would laugh some more.

“What’s your name?” “What’s your name, Ruby?” I asked her.

“Ruby!” “Hello Ruby!” “Ruby!” “I love you!” “Step up!”

Upon hearing Ruby say “Step up!” a few times, I’d open the door to her cage with the permission of the staff (after insuring the store’s front door was closed and the coast was clear) and insert my arm and hand into the cage. Sometimes Ruby would “step up” on my hand immediately and I’d secure her talons by covering them with my thumb, and withdraw her from the cage. Other times, she would lunge for my finger or hand, testing me, cleverly knowing I showed some fear of her bites. And then she would cackle. This might go on for minutes; Ruby was clearly in charge. Eventually, however, she would perch on my finger and out she’d come. She lunged significantly less when I held her.

Sometimes I would sit in a chair and hold her close to me. One time Ruby was sitting on my lap and Snowy was stretched out on the floor next to my chair. Without warning, Ruby hopped off my lap, spread her wings and sailed to the floor. The staff kept her wings clipped, but she was able to glide. Ruby landed in the aisle a few feet in front of me, and my dog ran to her side and quietly stood next to her, protecting her. I walked to them both, knelt down, extended my hand on the floor and Ruby stepped up. Snowy never barked, and Ruby didn’t lunge. I was nervous, but the animals handled the adventure expertly.

Other times I would hold Ruby for visiting preschool classes and the store’s owner described the behaviors of macaws to the students. My buddy, swinging upside down on my finger, really knew how to work a crowd. I always sang to Ruby. One time while holding her outside, Ruby joined in and sang “La-La-La-La” in different tones.  A staff member and I would sing little lines of melody, like a cheer you would hear at a ballgame when the organist plays and at the end of each musical line the crowd chants “Hey!,” except Ruby exclaimed “Woo!” What fun.  When she wanted a treat, Ruby would say, “I love you.” The customers always drew near to her when they heard her speak.

People in cars and buses waved to us as they passed by while Ruby was perched on my finger in front of the store. When the light turned red at the corner, people in stopped cars frequently lowered their windows to talk to Ruby, or pointed to her so that their kids would see the colorful macaw. When airplanes flew over the store on approach to the nearby airport, she would exclaim, “Hello Ruby!” I’m certain she considered planes kin. Ruby exercised regularly by flapping her wings while I or others held her throughout the day. “Big Eagle! Big Eagle!” we would all chant, and I walked quickly up and down the aisles with my arm held high over my head, and beautiful Ruby, perched on my finger, my thumb covering her talons, would flap her powerful wings over and over, generating a strong breeze.

We played games together, like “cage tag.” With Ruby perched in her cage, I would touch her beak with my finger and then count to three. At “three,” I ran to the other side of the cage and Ruby quickly made her way across the cage to me, latching on to her toys and the cage bars. I cheered, and then counted to three again, touched her beak and sprang around to where we started. Back and forth we went. Kids in the store played with me, and we always cheered for Ruby each time she met us. When the game was over, Ruby would either stay in place at “three,” or say “Goodbye.” She might say “Goodbye” to people leaving the store, and she always said it every evening when the staff covered her cage with a cloth for the night. She would poke under the sheet and say, “Goodbye!” “Goodbye!”

Ruby passed away last week. She had been ill for some time and under the care of the staff and her veterinarian. She fell from her perch, and possibly broke a toe, and the staff will learn if she suffered a heart attack. The store manager explained that she had performed mouth to beak resuscitation and massaged Ruby’s heart, but sadly, it was not to be. Earlier that afternoon, the manager told me that Ruby had asked to “Step Up,” and thoroughly enjoyed being showered with the mister bottle outside in the warm afternoon sun. Ruby sure loved her baths, and would squeal in delight and shake her colorful feathers in the sunshine. She had also called to the aircraft flying overhead. “Hello Ruby!” “Hello Ruby!”

I learned all this when the store’s manager called me to tell me the sad news. I was overcome with emotion, that Ruby had passed, and that the manager wanted me to know the news firsthand. She didn’t want me to read about Ruby’s passing or find out in conversation. I was so grateful and touched. I drove to the store, and was asked if I would like to see my dear friend. As I sat in the back room, holding my dear Ruby, tears fell onto the blanket which enshrouded her. I had to smile, though; Ruby looked beautiful and peaceful, but she had hated blankets. I sang my usual song, “Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you…” to her softly, and stroked her soft feathers, and said a final goodbye to her, as she would have said to me.

Kathy Galgano

April 8, 2014

A few words about Andy’s Pet Shop:

Ruby lived a wonderful life as the “house” bird at Andy’s; customers also love visiting another house bird, a beautiful toucan named “Mango.”

Andy’s Pet Shop is unique; it is the world’s first pet shop offering 100% rescued pets. Hamsters, guinea pigs, rabbits, mice, rats, doves, pigeons, turtles, snakes, lizards and fish are regularly available. You can adopt cats and dogs and parrots, too, and there may be some in the shop, but as these are happier living in foster homes, they are brought in for adoption fairs. Andy’s mission is as follows: Every pet deserves a good life. We make that happen by adopting out homeless pets, selling quality products, and educating human caretakers. We want to be successful with pet adoptions, so that other pet shops will follow our lead and convert to 100% rescued pets. It’s a special place.

Andy’s is located in downtown San Jose, near the De Anza Hotel, and the entrance to Highway 87. Their address is: 51 Notre Dame Avenue, San Jose, CA 95113. (408-297-0840) Andy’s is open daily from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. They have a large parking lot. You can pop by, or go to