Experiencing the 8-21-2017 Total Eclipse

Last week's blog shared the very personal reactions of four people to eclipses they viewed.  This week I share my own reactions to the Total Eclipse of 8-21-2017.  I hope that some of you will share your own reactions with me, for how we experienced the eclipse will surely be different for each of us.

Our neighbors for the night

My husband and I flew to Broken Bow, Nebraska, the afternoon before the eclipse, not wanting to risk unexpected delays the next morning.  We carried a new tent purchased more than a decade ago but never out of its box.  For a bit of nostalgia, I packed an old comforter that I believe was made by my Grandmother Beck.  In my childhood, before central air conditioning, that old comforter was spread on the lawn for weary children who fell asleep to the voices of parents entertaining out-of-doors to escape the stagnant heat of the house.

The morning of the eclipse we awoke in our tent to a gray world shrouded in fog.  I refused to be disheartened, accepting that we might experience the eclipse through a veil.  Broken Bow provided a three-day celebration in town which sounded wonderful, but the hospitality of the Broken Bow Airport kept us happy.  Hamburgers with homemade buns and all the fixins' were served both the evening we arrived and at lunch before the eclipse, and that morning our hosts served pancakes and cracked 120 eggs for scrambled eggs and ham.  By the time we finished breakfast the dark shapes of trees appeared through the fog, and soon patches of blue broke through the sky and disbursed the clouds to whispy fringes.  It was a glorious day to watch an eclipse.

More planes began to arrive, and soon the taxiway was lined with airplanes of all colors and sizes.  As the time neared for the eclipse to begin, people settled into the places they had chosen from which to watch, and one group arranged their lawn chairs in a semi-circle around the wind sock in the middle of the field.  Nearly the last plane to arrive was a large private jet, whose passengers quickly disembarked.  Perhaps 60 planes from nine different states and Canada had chosen Broken Bow as their eclipse-viewing destination, and no one was disappointed.

Planes begin to arrive

Soon the words, "It's starting" were heard.  Although our primary attention was directed skyward, there was also time to study the crowd in between watching the changes creeping across the sun--two young fathers holding their daughters' hands as they walked across the grass, the fathers in shorts and golf shirts but the beautiful little girls in dresses pretty enough for a party; a pair sitting in the shade of the main hangar eating their burgers and ignoring nature's preliminaries, postponing their attention for the total eclipse of the sun; some people retreating to small family groups as others clustered to chat with newly met friends; one man sitting in readiness alone by his plane with his camera outfit.

As the shadow of the moon cut more deeply into the sun, I sought a solitary space between the wing and the tail of our plane.  My husband, an incurably social personality, walked around, sharing the experience with our friends and others we had met since arriving, but always returning to share the excitement with me.  Remembering Annie Dillard's words describing a partial eclipse as being like kissing a man, I kissed my husband as the eclipse began.

I felt the air begin to cool even before I recognized the gradual darkness.  There were no birds at the airport  to cry in bewilderment as Mable Todd had described, nor sensitive flowers to close their petals, but there were automatic runway and taxiway lights that turned on in response to the deepening darkness.  The murmur of the crowd subdued momentarily, but as the sun disappeared  and the total eclipse that Mable Todd described as  an "incomparable corona, a silvery, soft, unearthly light" appeared.

Unlike the "hushed expectancy that seemed to hold its breath" that Mable Todd described, the crowd exploded in clapping and cheers.  It seems that Americans--accustomed to the more participatory crowd responses of sports events and massive concerts--have become conditioned to express their wonder and delight differently.  Noise filled the air.

Home sweet Home at Broken Bow Airport

The eclipse passed too quickly.  The moment when the burst of light escaped the moon's shadow and soared defiantly out of its imprisoned darkness came too soon.  I wanted the magic to last, to capture my emotional awareness of nature's power even longer, but the moon moved on.  I met our friend, standing quietly in the middle of the lawn.  "It really does smell like morning," he said.  I took a deep breath.  This was what I had come to experience--not just the darkness and the light but the subtle changes.  He was right.  The return of sunlight after its brief imprisonment by the moon's shadow really did arrive with the fresh smell of morning.  Sadly, the fragrance was quickly eradicated by the fumes of the late-arriving jet, now just as eager to be on its way as it had been late to arrive.  Its engine roared and the smell of fuel obliterated the lingering awe of the eclipse.

The image of the moon's departing shadow slipping off the sun was as beautiful as its arrival had been, but very few people continued to look skyward.  Their eclipse glasses were tucked into pockets as they hurried toward their planes to line up on the taxiway for departure.  We were among the last planes to leave, but a tiny bite out of the sun still remained as I took my last look before my husband closed the door for our departure.

Photograph of a previous total eclipse

Nature's performance had been perfection, and we had been in a beautiful, hospitable place to watch.  Was it everything I had hoped?  Almost.  I suspect I should have slipped away to one of the lovely hills that formed the backdrop to the airport.  I missed the sort of reverence in which to savor the moments--Isaac Werner's solitude, Annie Dillard's falling through the sky, Emily Dickinson's sense of Awe, Mable Todd's ethereal splendor.

I appreciate that each of us experiences joy differently, and I believe almost everyone around me felt they had experienced more than they could have imagined.  Perhaps I alone wanted to experience the eclipse as something transcendental, something apart from my ordinary existence.  I shared the communal experience of beauty, the excitement, the satisfaction of being present for such a moment, but I missed the deeper feeling of slipping beyond reality for just a magical moment to relish the wonder of this incredible planet we inhabit.  I was too distracted by the reality around me and lacked the concentration to ignore it.  For me, a solitary place to spread our comforter, with only the birds and bugs as a soundtrack to the deepening darkness would have been perfect.    I would have been happy to value the departure of the moon's shadow with as much wonder as we had experienced watching its arrival.

But my way to experience the eclipse is not everyone's preference, nor do I have any reason for disappointment or regret about our beautiful time in Broken Bow.  I hope some of you will take the time to share where you watched the eclipse and the feelings you experienced, whether as a comment to this blog, as a comment on my face book page, or in an e-mail.  You can still enjoy reading the descriptions of Isaac Werner, Emily Dickinson, Annie Dillard, and Mable Loomis Todd by scrolling to last week's blog below, and you can enlarge the images in the blog by clicking on them.