A Total Eclipse

The only bad part of viewing the eclipse totality in Morrilton, Arkansas was getting out of the state afterward. We left our viewing site at 3:15 PM and reached our home 11 hours later, at 2:15 AM. Interstate 40 was jammed full, and traffic moved most of the time at less than 20 MPH. We began to travel at normal speeds only after we left Interstate 40 for Interstate 49, which took us north into Missouri instead of further west into Oklahoma.

I think everyone struggles to explain the magic of an eclipse totality experience. Perhaps it's partly because we never otherwise find ourselves in the middle of an all-encompassing familiar environment, when the natural order of things suddenly goes off the rails. Yet the abnormal is itself completely natural. Words do not easily shape themselves around such realities.

Something about all that reminds us of how precious it is to serve an unchangeable God of order, who nevertheless delights in giving us special gifts and unmerited favor. And so, for me, traveling to witness a total solar eclipse, once in a lifetime, made perfect, logical sense. The fact that we could do it together with a host of friends and relatives made it a special treasure. Many of us "moteled" at my brother's house in SE Kansas, which made possible breaking the trip into two hitches of roughly equal length.

Five of us siblings were together, along with some of our children, grandchildren, and assorted nieces and nephews and their children, and a friend/relative from PA. With some typical last-minute planning, we gathered at the Methodist Missionary Baptist Church, after seeing on the internet that the church youth group was having a welcome party as a fund raiser. With restrooms, concessions, and a bouncy house close by, everyone's needs were easy to satisfy.

We lined up our lawn chairs on the sidewalks on the north side of the church and spread our quilts on the grassy level area. Our cars were nearby in the parking lot. A low curb at the edge of the grassy area separated it from a steeply sloping hill down to the parsonage below. The city of Morrilton nestled into the valley.

Besides keeping an eye on the toddlers who seemed inordinately inclined to cavort near the curb, and passing the babies from one set of welcoming arms to the next, we oohed and aahed every time we got out of our chairs and aimed our dark-glasses-clad faces toward the sun. I made sure I stood next to a sturdy flagpole while I tipped my head back and searched blindly for the only brilliance to shine out of the darkness. Between times, I also eavesdropped on the two young men who discussed philosophy next to me.

Breakfast had been served before 5:00 AM, and the mid-morning family rendezvous at my niece's friend's coffee shop en route receded gradually into the background, so a lot of snacking happened too, as well as eating sandwiches from the concession stand.

Near the moment of totality, a giant dimmer switch darkened the sky and hills to the west and the darkness overspread the area. The bird sounds turned to murmurs and then silence. Coolness touched us all. We joined in the applause that erupted from the wider area at the moment of totality. Some of us had tears. Headlights, street lights, and neon lights came on in the town below. Someone quickly threw quilts over the dark-sensing floodlights aimed at the top of the flagpole. Gentle sunset colors piled up near the horizon. The dimmer switch reversed directions and the light returned in the west while darkness faded in the east. Bird calls increased in volume.

In between, at totality (which lasted more than four minutes), we kept looking, again and again, and couldn't stop marveling. Finally, a "gem" appeared to the lower right of the circle (the diamond ring phenomenon), and the brilliance there gradually turned into a short, narrow arc. We kept checking periodically after that, noted the warming temps, and the fading of "golden hour," and eventually began to load things into our vehicles, made one more round to the bathroom, and joined many others for the trek home. *********** I had a chance to travel to Nebraska with others in my family in 2017 when the path of totality occurred there. I had to refuse the opportunity, however, since it was just before school started, and I was too snowed under with getting ready for teaching to make it work. I was a little bit bitter at this necessity, and vowed to see the next eclipse one way or another. I wasn't sure that it would happen though, until Joel's family offered to include me in their travel plans. I rode with them in comfort, but it was a bit of a tight squeeze for them because of me and my luggage. I was sorry about that.

When we left home on Sunday afternoon, high winds picking up topsoil turned the air dirty. I think all of us could begin to relax a bit as soon as we noticed blue sky overhead again, and experienced improved long-distance vision as the air cleared. This happened about halfway to Labette County in SE Kansas where my brother Ronald lives.

The next day we drank in lots of GREEN along the roadsides and in the trees. Obviously, it's been raining somewhere while we're still praying for moisture here.

We felt undeserving of the kindness shown by the folks at the church where we watched the eclipse. I hope they felt rewarded for their welcoming efforts. Traveling to see the eclipse was a very short vacation, but it packed an outsized refreshing wallop to our drought-assaulted souls.