A Few Moments in Time

            First a gasp in awe. From the mountains to the prairies, to the oceans white with foam, America experienced a total solar eclipse, the first in ninety-nine years to stretch diagonally from the Pacific to the Atlantic: Oregon to South Carolina. Those who gathered to witness the Great American Eclipse cheered and applauded the celestial wonder as the shadow of the moon on the face of the sun passed over their locations. 

      Media had addressed traffic concerns and warned drivers who made pilgrimages to see totality for themselves. They forecast gridlock. Not knowing what to expect, we packed the truck for potential Super Bowl-type crowds, packed as if driving to Fayetteville for a sold-out Razorback  game. Gridlock did not occur as we drove north along Hwy 57 and Hwy 51 toward Carbondale, prepared to stop in Anna, IL, if necessary.

After a couple of hours, with the traffic being light, we chose to drive on toward Eclipse Central. While the Saluki’s football stadium at Carbondale, Illinois, was filling with ticket holders three hours before the cosmic event, other group venues offered the crowds unobstructed views from natural amphitheaters, golf courses, and private hilltops…for prices that ranged from $20.00 to $100.00 per car to park and look at the sky. We were among those eclipse viewers who avoided throngs of people. We exacted a U-turn at the stadium and returned to a little graveled area we’d spotted.

            We parked there; it was conveniently located across the road from Dollar General. Within an hour, a total of thirteen additional cars parked in that small lot. People from Lafayette, Louisiana, western Pennsylvania, Tulsa, Chicago, Dallas, New Orleans, and Heber Springs joined the spontaneous watch-party. The couple from Tulsa had vacated Kansas City the day before and St. Louis early Monday morning due to forecast storms. Across the road, the Dollar General manager planned to close her store just before totality so the employees could gaze at the sky from the vantage point of the store’s curb.

         

   Group photo ops, with everyone peering skyward outfitted in
special eclipse glasses, included lively conversations with new friends. Contributing to the festive atmosphere, the anxious solar-spectacle-pilgrims unloaded snacks, water, sodas, bug spray, and folding chairs.

           Waiting for the moon’s shadow to take a bite of the sun’s orb, people also unfolded towels to create tents, raised umbrellas to block intense rays, attempting to turn the oven to Bake rather than Broil. Feeling like chocolate chips in a home baked cookie, some of the group wandered through the weeds to find shade under scrubby trees forming a property line. Most observers hoped for a wayward breeze forecast to bring a cold front into the area.

At Saluki Stadium, the packed bleachers became a giant, scorching, crowded solarium. Some parts of Carbondale had views obstructed by large, cumulous clouds building in the afternoon heat; our observation point boasted a mostly clear sky, especially when it mattered.

            Gradually, the atmosphere began to change, appearing as if the surroundings were painted with chartreuse watercolor. Shadows forming at vehicles appeared distorted. Spectators, observing the solar event through eclipse glasses, saw the moon’s shadow as it crept across the sun’s face, creating cut-away shapes. First like a wheel of cheese with a small chunk missing, the sun soon took on the shape of the ghost-eating Pac-Man. The protective solar glasses filtered out the harmful sun’s rays so viewers could see it later look like a crescent; then, a thumb nail, as if the sun had become the moon in those familiar stages. The temperature began to fall a few degrees and someone said, “Here it comes!” Indeed, totality slowly occurred. People who witnessed this cosmic magic stood transfixed.

Words do not do the image justice. For a few moments, the day became dark enough to trigger the street lights. Venus, the evening star, appeared. The cheering crowd became quiet as the moon’s shadow completely covered the sun and the evening-like mid-day sky hushed the birds and summonsed the crickets. The sun’s corona announced itself in a flash extending over a million miles into space. A glow appeared at the horizon. At Carbondale, the eclipse lasted a whopping two minutes and thirty-nine seconds; consensus was it did not last long enough. Soon, the shadow moved on and the sun reclaimed the sky like a brilliant diamond ring; it was time to go home.

           People loaded up their cars, bid good-bye and safe travels. Before the groups headed north or south, our little crowd shared in the wonder: a spectacular experience united America, if only for a few moments in time.