On August 21, 2017, much of the United States will participate in a mass viewing of the first total solar eclipse in almost 100 years to be visible in our country. I will be out and watching, but I will only see a sun eclipsed 81 percent, as I am several hundred miles north of totality's path. Why don't I just hop on a plane or get in the car and go to a location that will see the total event? I would love to, but I can't. I'm sorely disappointed, but it's not the first time.

Even with my love of astronomy (I was going to minor in it in college), I have not seen many of the wondrous phenomena that have taken place in our skies. Halley's Comet? Cloudy. Hale-Bopp? Cloudy. What about the Perseid meteor shower each year? Cloudy or raining almost every single time. I think I've seen a couple of meteors, but I also live in an area with a great deal of light pollution, so I can't really be sure. Same goes for the Leonids and all the other showers that light up the heavens around our planet. I have a nice telescope, but it's too heavy to carry around to a deserted area most of the time although I did see Jupiter with three of its Galilean moons the first time I used it - awesome!!

So, back to the traveling. Bottom line - I don't have the money to get a plane ticket. Traveling is expensive, and due to a disability, I can work only enough hours to just make ends meet. It's been this way for so many years that I've stopped even thinking about the possibility of such a luxury. And sitting in a car for hours hurts my body more than I care to admit. For someone who used to love driving cross-country, that's kind of sobering, too.

But even if can't see the total eclipse, millions of other people will, and I'll be out with my funky protective glasses to look at the 81 percent this area will get. And with the internet, I'll be able to see some fabulous pictures and share in the amazing science that's going to be uncovered by this event. I could be all mopey and refuse to enjoy the day, but what purpose would that serve? Life is what it is, and it's up to each of us to make the most out of what we have. I will be out, virtually sharing the day with every other sky watcher. Together the sum of all our parts will be greater than the total.

So stuck in my own

Eclipse

I neglect to appreciate

Nature's splendor

Until reminded

I fail to see

The world 

Outside of me

Repoussoir effect of the light.

against a dark shade cloud lurks.

Louver, light coming through the billowing clouds

allowing a beam to shine.

Another light shadow of the clouds

canopy of clouds, and the dark side of the moon.

The shadows return,

while curtain hides light by passing moonlight through.

I did see the eclipse yesterday

but it was not across the bay

or the alley way

I saw it in the yard

many glasses were discard

and people gave it their regard

It was a crescent for a while

to see it you needed a special tact tile

I'd say it was worthwhile

I saw the sun and only black

and everybody said to turn back

they didn't know jack

The eclipse was really cool

I would say it's a jewel

and if you stare, you're a fool

A story of two universities...LSU and Tulane. Their football teams played each other in Louisiana’s very first intercollegiate football game in November of 1893, when Tulane’s Green Wave beat the LSU Tigers 34-0. So began one of the biggest sports rivalries in state history. From that year on these two teams played each other every year on Thanksgiving Saturday. After some time LSU became the perennial winner. In fact, the LSU lopsided dominance was so guaranteed and taken-for-granted that Tulane became a joke in football. It became so bad and humiliating that there was even talk of disbanding Tulane’s sports department.

Fast forward to 1981, a time of historically valid assumptions--primarily the foregone conclusion that Tulane would again, as it always had, lose in disgrace to LSU. History, however, recorded a decidedly embarrassing and different outcome that day for LSU. To everyone’s surprise, Tulane took an early lead and never looked back, beating the over-confident LSU soundly. 

The sky fell. The sports enthusiasts were stunned. Athletics convulsed. The LSU student body died a symbolic death. There were demands for heads to roll.

Tulane, on the other hand, celebrated like a Moon landing, New Year’s Eve, Fourth of July, Mardi Gras, and VE day all rolled into one. Uptown New Orleans spilled onto Bourbon St. later into the evening. About nine months later, it turned out, there was a demonstrable uptick in the number of births in the New Orleans area. Phil Johnston, news director for WWL-TV, predicted this surge in births to come. He concluded his editorial the evening of the rout—and I don’t recall the exact words—but, ever-so-eloquent as he was, he said something like, “…and when your life is done and you are received into the cosmos, are called upon to report on the relevance of your life to all of creation, and are asked why you existed—to what significance, you can simply answer, ‘Because Tulane beat LSU, 48-7.’”

On August 21, 2017, I was lucky enough to witness the total solar eclipse—my first one. It was at the beautiful site of Crestview Funeral Gardens in Gallatin, Tennessee. Being as seeing an eclipse was on my bucket list, I thought the graveyard site appropriate. Now that I've checked it off, I can say with authority that that a partial eclipse is nothing compared to one that’s total. The Sun's corona was beautiful, the dusk around 360 degrees of horizon was a warm embrace. The dark of the moon was the blackest black I've ever seen--like looking into an infinite tunnel of forever. 

It was surreal, and the best I can say in describing how I felt during those 2 minutes and 39 seconds is that I felt a perspective of myself within the universe. No, my life didn’t change, and I didn’t necessarily wax theological, but I did feel the handshake between my mortal self and Creation, my camaraderie  with the cosmos. And during totality, even though I sensed  how speck-like I am, I also felt the welcoming warmth of belonging to everything there is. So is that considered life-changing? I don’t think so, but I do carry on my life as part of the universe. How long will that feeling last? Until the re-clipse in 2024? Stay tuned. I’ll report back.

The relevance to where I fit in, however, cannot be separated from what I am, a brief visitor on the timeline between birth and death, connected to past generations by only an umbilical cord, and rolling out others to follow with the same cords, into the future. While it is touted that men are from Mars and women are from Venus, the simple fact is that everyone is from Earth, a planet with just the right-sized moon, orbiting at just the right distance, as part of a star system whose star is just the right distance away, to perfectly allow for just the right blocking of sunlight onto us from time to time. 

It is a wink and a nod from the cosmos that we are noticed. 

A simple shadow makes our births seem worthwhile and our lives important—certainly more significant than a 41-point spread that I’m sure changed some bookies’ lives.

Today is the Eclipse. 99 years its been waiting. This miraculous event will stir up wonder and awe across nations. I make sure to put on my protective glasses so not to go blind in the undoing of this event. I remembered reading about a girl who witnessed a solar eclipse only to find herself losing her sight within hours. How horrible would that be? The last thing she saw was the sun overshadowed by the moon like curiosity overshadowing her fate. I shuddered and pushed the glasses up real close to my face. I stepped outside, all is quiet. It's a drowsy afternoon in a little town in East Texas. Not many people care about natural phenomena's around here or really anything going on in the outside world. So I look up and see what is expected, a big bright orb with black overtaking it. "Amazing" I think to myself. I think that's a good word for it..."Amazing." I push my glasses closer to my face. Then I remembered that I had a load of laundry ready to be folded. I take one last look and I go inside. "I hope I don't go blind" I think to myself. "How was it?" others will ask me, and I will say "Bright, not life changing but bright." I smile and continue my day.

Euphoria. The first and only time I’ve ever been able to use this word. Gazing at the corona, that incredible display of cosmic glory, laughing with joy. Laughing. Others were crying, screaming, cheering, yelling. Two minutes united in excitement and enjoyment of the world around us, sharing an experience we will treasure for a lifetime.

First we watched the moon slowly creep its way across the sun, reminding me of the lunar eclipse I saw a few years previously. The light around us changed, became warmer, more sepia toned. After that came the wind, sweeping over the plains as if to warn of what was to come. It became dark around us, though we could see in all directions a yellow light on the horizon: a 360 degree sunset. I looked at the sky, and for a moment, the sun had completely disappeared, no moon, no corona. It was a bizarre and disjointed feeling, like the laws of the universe were broken, something critical was missing. And then the corona appeared, and all was frenzied bliss.

Disappointment, I’m sure, was felt by some, the clouds obstructing their view. For us, the clouds provided an added drama as they flitted over and away from the sun. As we stared, fixated, through our cardboard glasses, a cheer erupted every time it reappeared. When the clouds cleared just before totality, our outstanding luck only sweetened the view. Disappointment must also have been felt by some who couldn’t make it to the path of totality. I know that it is primarily due to luck and privilege that I was able to witness the total eclipse. I look back feeling grateful. Grateful for the resources and time to drive ten hours to Nebraska. Grateful that my family was excited to go and brought me with them. Grateful for the memory that I will cherish forever.

A candle lit in the bright of day,

Hanging on a candle holder on a wall, amidst a house of many windows,

Light basking on the floor where through those windows it was cast.

With the deceptive speed of that deception - time lapse photography -

     An eclipse engulfed the Sun.

Shadow chased the minions of light, and in the house of the candle they fled the floor,

     Darkness on their minion heals.

But where the coming shadow met the candle,

The candle threw the shadow writhing back upon the floor!