Skip to main content

A total eclipse of the sun – kind of

Subhead
The Northview
Lead Summary
By
Brenda Winter, columnist

My husband, youngest daughter and I arose early that morning. Our mission for the day was to drive to Beatrice, Nebraska, to view the total eclipse of the sun scheduled to happen there around noon.
NASA promoted the event like this: “On Monday, Aug. 21, 2017, all of North America will be treated to an eclipse of the sun. Anyone within the path of totality can see one of nature’s most awe-inspiring sights — a total solar eclipse. This path, where the moon will completely cover the sun and the sun's tenuous atmosphere, the corona, — will stretch from Lincoln Beach, Oregon, to Charleston, South Carolina.”
Who wouldn’t want to be in the path of totality? So off we went to Nebraska. By the time we passed through Omaha, we noticed the southbound lanes of the interstate highway were solid with traffic. The northbound lanes held the occasional car found traveling past Omaha on a Monday morning.
Apparently many thousands of people were on the same eclipse-viewing adventure.
The highway department joined in the fun by switching the electronic signs to read, “Put your cell phone down or we’ll turn off the sun.”
One thing we noted about the traffic is that the drivers were “Nebraska nice.” People patiently allowed each other to enter and exit different lanes. The guy with the Prius graciously made way for the guy driving the Ford F150.
It’s a special privilege to be in the path of totality during an eclipse, and the good people of Nebraska were on their best behavior.
The gracious manners continued at the gas station 20 miles north of Beatrice that we chose as our viewing point. Gentlemen held the doors for the ladies. 
The ladies were cheery and friendly while waiting in line for the restroom. One woman had come from Florida. A science teacher, she said, “I told my boss two years ago that I was taking this day off.” 
Another woman, also from Florida, had two grandchildren with her. They’d spent the entire week in Nebraska, camping and waiting for the eclipse.
And so we took our place on the lawn behind the gas station. Hundreds of people from dozens of states and around the world were sitting on the grass, seated on lawn chairs or waiting in their cars.
All were decked out in the sci-fi glasses required to view the eclipse. My techie husband had ordered our eclipse glasses on Amazon.
As we all stared at the cloud-dotted sky, we watched the moon slowly creep across the path of the sun. It was exciting and a bit eerie. 
Bit by bit, the sun’s light faded and the moment of “totality” approached.
A murmur floated across the crowd as a fluffy gray cloud inched toward the almost-complete eclipse.
The sky began to darken. The crickets began to go quiet and … the cloud began to cover our view.
At just the moment the eclipse reached totality, the cloud covered our view of the eclipse which, in our location, would last two minutes and 12 seconds.
The cloud lasted two minutes and 13 seconds. 
Life is like that sometimes.
 

You must log in to continue reading. Log in or subscribe today.