After wasting one of just over three minutes available in a vain effort to get a photo, I sat
motionless in quiet, even with friends and family nearby. My brain was processing what I saw and stilling for a few minutes. For that brief time, my mind put aside all the flotsam that continually drifts around in my head. Fortunately, the husband of my good friend and host for the day is a professional photographer. Jeffrey P. Bowen got a fantastic picture that he shared and permitted me to use.
Why would anyone pay almost $2,000 and travel over 800 miles to experience an event that lasted three minutes? A total eclipse of the sun is a transitory event worth noting, but it doesn’t have a lasting outcome. Could anything of such short duration be worth the energy and expense? Only if you dive into the experience a bit and add on some side journeys. It was my first total eclipse and likely my last.
For this trip, I took a moment to learn about eclipses, reconnect with family and friends, and consider new things ahead for me. Part of the lure for this particular eclipse was its prime location in my former home state, Arkansas. The sky was flawless on that day, April 8, 2024.
In an eclipse, the sun is overshadowed briefly by a lesser celestial body. This event is transitory. The moon keeps moving, and the sun is revealed where it was when the eclipse started. The sun didn’t move–the moon did. I read several of the thousands of explanatory articles about solar eclipses and the synchrony of the movements of the celestial bodies. I also read about the history of man’s efforts to make sense of this rare dance of the sun and moon in the sky. In ancient times, people feared eclipses and attributed divine purpose to them. We know almost too much about them today, so part of the thrill and mystery has been erased. And yet, I had a momentary tingle as I experienced something counter to every other day of my life.
With eclipse glasses, I watched the moon start its journey crossing the sun. When the moon aligned perfectly with the sun, the sky darkened. The light of the corona was inadequate to maintain daylight. The solar-powered landscape lighting came on at the home where I was watching. The lighting sensors registered the dark as night. It was magical as I removed the eclipse glasses and stared at the glowing halo around the sun for about three minutes.
When something monumental is over so fast, I replay it and continue to sort and process it at an afterparty in my head. Replaying the eclipse helps me understand how freakishly improbable it is. The alignment of the earth, moon, and sun is a crucial factor in the timing and location of totality. The moon must also be the perfect size to fit precisely across the sun's surface at this distance. If the moon were any larger, it would block the corona from view, or if smaller, its shadow would not be large enough to block out the sun leaving only the corona to shine. Kelsey Oseid explained that the moon is gradually moving away from the Earth. When the moon gets too far away, its shadow will be too small to achieve totality. Oseid adds this will be about six million years from now.[1]
I flew to Arkansas two days early to reduce the possibility of missing the event due to travel glitches. While there, I met my cousins and family from Maryland and Virginia for a too brief catch-up before joining a local friend at her home for dinner. I spent the next day with another long-time Little Rock friend. Her home in Maumelle, Arkansas, just west of Little Rock, was the perfect venue for eclipse watching.
On the day of the event, my Arkansas brother and his wife joined us in Maumelle. After the eclipse, I left with them for their home. Apparently, everyone in the state left at the same time. A drive that usually requires a little over two hours took almost five hours. Still, we made it to their home for a late dinner and I visited with them for another two days before returning to Florida. While in Northwest Arkansas, I returned to my alma mater and searched the Senior Walks for my name etched in cement on the sidewalks around campus. It was there twice, one time each for undergraduate and graduate school. My name was still there despite the decades that have passed.
As I continued to think about the eclipse, my attention turned to the word itself. “Eclipsed” means that something has been surpassed or something better has come. It made me think of my circumstances at this point. This year is one of those significant round-number years for me. The once-in-a-lifetime eclipse event suggested the idea of slipping into the shadows, though it’s only temporary for the sun.
At times, retirement can seem like moving into the shadows. However, I am finding new pursuits and enjoying new opportunities. I am traveling as much as possible and writing about it to expand each travel experience. Should I reduce travel at some point, I will find other creative expressions. For now, I cherish these opportunities to renew friendships and reconnect with family. Sharing new experiences with others adds depth and value to my journey.
[1] Oseid, Kelsey. Eclipse. Ten Speed Press. New York. 2024.
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