Missing the Eclipse: There is Always Another?

I’ve wanted to see a total eclipse of the sun for as long as I can remember. I was a child who was fascinated by astronomy. By sixth grade I’d read every book that Jefferson West Elementary School had on the subject and I’d moved on to the Hays public library and was making pretty good progress there.

But it takes money, often a lot of money, to get the the remote locations in which that thin strip of totality seems to always lie. So, imagine my excitement when I read last February that a swatch of total eclipse was going to reach from Oregon to my home state of North Carolina.

Then, imagine my reaction when I realized that I would not be here for the big event. Days earlier I had booked non-refundable airline tickets for four to Kenya for the safari trip of a lifetime. No, the eclipse would not be visible in Kenya. No, the tickets could not be changed. Maybe I should have checked, but seriously, who looks at schedule of eclipses before they plan a trip?

I cut my losses, focused on the excitement of my upcoming journey, and tried to ignore the ever-increasing hype about the eclipse as mid-August approached.

I had a great time in Kenya. And, the good old reliable sun provided me with a lot of beautiful photos, so I didn’t feel completely cheated out of celestial beauty.

Meanwhile, some of those closest to me headed over to nearby Charleston SC for nature’s big show. Our home near Asheville wasn’t in the path of totality. But, we have kin in Charleston, and it seemed like  a terrific place to view an eclipse: all that wide expanse of ocean, all those great restaurants and things to do, and a relative’s condo that was available for free.

Only the total eclipse didn’t happen quite as expected. Yes, the moon passed in front of the sun for a couple of minutes, but it never got dark, like in the NASA photo shown at the top of this post. It was more dusky, like part way through a sunset. According to some theories, light from outside the totality band was reflected off of the ocean, preventing complete darkness. Whatever the cause, an iPhone captured totality like this. It was a cool experience, according to those who were there, but not quite the extreme event they were lead to expect.

I’m in Charleston today, thinking about the eclipse that I missed. That was about 28 days ago and we are back to the new moon. This time, the moon won’t pass directly in front of the sun, at least from where I am sitting. But it will from somewhere, even if that somewhere is out in space.

Sooner or later, I hope to find a way to put myself directly in that shadow. Will the experience live up to all of my expectations? Maybe. Maybe not.

Meanwhile, here is how the sun, and that invisible new moon, are looking today in the Charleston area, just one full cycle of the moon later.

Not too shabby. If this is the best solar event I get to see for awhile, I’m not going to feel so bad about it.

 

And that’s the way it was, June 10 1947

She turned twenty-one that day, and married her high school sweetheart. He was about to turn twenty-two, and had already returned from the war, smoking cigarettes and telling tales of the motorcycle he had learned to ride. She thought that he seemed pretty full of himself since his return, but she married him anyway at the small country church in the town in which she was raised. A 9:00 mass was followed by a giant buffet lunch which was followed by an afternoon of drinking and dancing and then a lavish dinner with more dancing and drinking after that.

It’s a wonder marriages got consummated after such a day, but they did. She was a farm girl, and astounded to discover that the male human had parts quite similar to all the male animals for which she cared. That possibility had never occurred to her. She and her husband would laugh about that for years.

On June 10, 1957 she wore pink costume jewelry and put her black hair in a Liz Taylor style coiffure. She dressed her little daughters in pink frills too as the family celebrated the tenth anniversary of the big day. Then she and her husband had highballs, and went out for steaks. They were living the good life.

On June 10, 1972 they went to Hawaii to celebrate their 25th anniversary. When they returned they hosted a luau for all their friends, wearing shiny silver clothes and passing out leis make from real flowers. Most people thought that there had never been a party quite like it before in all of Western Kansas.

On June 10, 1987 they had a ruby-themed celebration of their 40th anniversary. Their daughters, partners and grand kids all dressed in bright red and the parish priest graciously allowed the crimson festivities to flow into an anniversary mass with family members performing special songs and readings. He did remark quietly that his church had never seen anything quite like it before.

On June 10, 1997 her children and grandchildren consoled her as best they could. A small birthday cake, and giving her the time and space to cry, seemed the best they could do. She kept a photo of him next to her cake.

On June 10, 2006 her family took her on a cruise for her eightieth birthday. She was recovering from pneumonia and could barely make the trip, but she tried to have fun. She would never fully regain her strength after that.

And today, on June 10, 2017, several people will raise a glass and drink to what began seventy years ago. Every day has its events, they always cause some ripples. Many of those last a century or more.

But only a few days have the power, seven decades later, to bring a smile to the lips of those weren’t even there, and who owe their very world to what happened on that day.

(For more segments about June days from long ago, see That’s the Way It Was June 15, 1984, June 18, 1972, June 28, 1888, and June 30, 1940.)

 

Leaving a Light Footprint in a Far Away Place

I remember visiting Yellowstone as a teenager and being upset that I was not allowed to take even one tiny little insignificant rock home as a souvenir.  Up to that time, I always brought a rock home from places I enjoyed. What difference could my little memento make?

Then I looked around. Thousands of people were here with me, and if I was the only one who ever took a pretty stone, there would be no problem. But what if half of them wanted rocks, too?

It was something of an epiphany to realize that while a never-before-seen insect or two on ones front porch is interesting, ten thousand such insects on the porch is frightening. Maybe even a plague. It was more of an epiphany to understand that it works pretty much the same for humans as for bugs. Take one or two of us out of our home environment and put us somewhere else, and we’re interesting. But if thousands of us suddenly plop up somewhere new, we become a problem. Maybe even a plague.

Today, I am an adult who loves to travel, and my books and my blogs reflect my belief that peace and compassion are byproducts of visiting places far from our own. However, in a world where many now have the means and desire to explore far away places (which is good), we risk harming every place to which we swarm (which is bad).

Back when I wrote z2, main characters Alex and Lola had to visit Guatemala and Belize as part of the plot. As I researched their vacation, I came upon the concept of ecotourism and immediately wanted my characters to embrace this idea. This was the result.

As the van from their lodge left the lowlands the next morning and entered the mountainous area of western Belize, Alex thought that the vacation portion of this trip had pretty much ended. So he was surprised by the breathtaking beauty.

The lodge itself was nestled in between two small waterfalls and surrounded by tropical forest. Even just standing in the parking lot Alex could see wild orchids growing and brightly colored parrots flitting about. It was a fantasy set in a version of paradise.

“Why don’t you tell the world that this place is so gorgeous?” Lola was exclaiming.

“Many tourists are a mixed blessing,” the driver smiled back at her. Of course, Alex thought. We bring money, something the region sorely needs. But we also bring us.

The lodge that Lola had selected advertised its allegiance to sustainable ecotourism. In the past Alex had honestly paid very little attention to that concept. But now, looking at the array of spectacular plant life in front of him, and remembering the clear struggle for life he had seen while diving around reefs only a few days ago, he was proud and happy that Lola had persuaded him to spend the extra to be staying at a facility that at least gave some conscious thought to the problem.

A few days ago I got introduced to a documentary being made by relatives of a friend of mine. He is from Easter Island, and they are working to finish a film about the challenges caused by having a massive number of humans decide to put a visit to Easter Island on their bucket list.

It looks like it will be a thought-provoking look into how our common yen to visit far away places has consequences, and how we would be well-served to keep them in mind. Enjoy the video below and check out their Kickstarter page to learn more.

(For more thoughts on Far Away Places see As Far Away Places Edge Closer, Caring About Far Away Places, The Courage to Embrace Those Far Away Places, and Those Far Away Places Could Be Next Door.)

Don’t shake Nixon’s hand

There is picture of me shaking hands with President Nixon. I’m sixteen and in a skirt so short it should be illegal. He is looking right at the camera, with the frozen smile he made a hundred times that day as a selected slice of the citizenry of Kansas was paraded before him. I’m looking away. In spite of the honor of meeting a U.S. president, I already do not like this one and I will come to like him even less as we both grow older.

Richard Nixon, three days after resigning on 9 August 1974My parents could not have been more proud. Much to my embarrassment they hung the photo in the front hall of our house, leaving me to shrug and smile lamely whenever my own friends saw it. Then it got buried in a box for a few decades, and emerged here in my home a few months ago.

The decades make you more philosophical. This is a piece of my personal history, I thought.  I should embrace all the oddball steps along the path I’ve trod. So up went the photo, albeit in a far corner of a room upstairs.

Now, let me be clear. I think Nixon was a frequent liar, who tried to distance himself from a my-wining-justifies-any-behavior scandal called Watergate to which he had no moral objection. I know that he was foul-mouthed, rude and paranoid. This might describe a lot of politicians to some degree, it is true, but I think Nixon was on the far end of that spectrum and I don’t like him for it. I don’t think he was a nice or an honorable man.

Vietnam_WarWhat is worse, there is some evidence that he worked to derail the Vietnam peace talks in order to get elected in 1968. This would make him indirectly responsible for thousands of deaths and an uncountable amount of human suffering. Again, one might argue that many leaders could be accused of such. With great responsibility comes large consequences for poor decisions. But derailing peace talks to get elected? That has to be on the very low end of poor decision making.

Then, we get John Ehrlichman’s revelations from this past week. Nixon hated the hippie movement. In fact, it was his comments about such that turned me off so thoroughly the day the photo was taken. I don’t doubt that he was racist (and probably everything else -ist). The virtues of tolerance, diversity and inclusivity never appeared to be part of his make-up. He may or may not have specifically designed the war on drugs to target blacks and anti-establishment youth, but at the very least it was a bonus to him. This story has the ring of truth to it in that he was notably pragmatic as regarded his own political career. Not only did he not like either group, he also recognized how unlikely either was to ever vote for him.

IMG_2180So I look at the photo and consider taking it back down. These recent revelations stir up the anger and frustration I used to feel, and explain why a younger version of myself thought a man like Gerald Ford was a big improvement. It turns out that I wouldn’t dislike another president so vehemently until Ronald Reagan got elected. Mercifully, I don’t have a picture of me and Reagan to agonize over.

There is something to be said for keeping your own history, honoring your own memories and what those moments meant to you. There is also something to be said to for deciding “I have heard enough about this clown, I don’t ever want to see his face again.”

Which emotion trumps?  Oooopppps, bad word choice. My subconscious must be doing a little free association. Let me rephrase the question. Do I ban his image from my home? Or maybe I should just cut out the part of the photo containing Nixon, and leave my sixteen year-old-self shaking hands with an unseen apparition?

and the energy inside you goes round and round ….

swirlAccording to the kids’ song, it’s the wheels on the bus ….  but some days it’s the thoughts in your head, the feelings in your heart, and excitement in your soul that you can hardly contain as it all twirls and spins with the very force that powers the universe itself.

I wrote z2 because the idea of time and the nature of change absolutely fascinate me. I sometimes have this fantasy in which I’ve been given a magic photo album of my entire life and every year (maybe on my birthday?) I a get to open it to one random page somewhere in the future and study the photographs. Will I like the  pictures that I see?  Look, there’s me in front of breath-taking waterfalls. Me and my sister hugging and laughing in front of a festively lit bridge. Who are those kids? Are they mine? And who is this man that keeps showing up in the photos   ….

If I am paying close attention, I will notice that some years, there are clear omissions. Why isn’t my father albumshowing up in any pictures now? My mother, she’s gone as as well. Oh dear, I’ve put on a few pounds but otherwise I’m aging okay. I do look happy and healthy. Is that me on a beach? Where?

I think that this odd fantasy that I’ve head since I was a teenager has subtly shaped my life, urging me to build a future that would make 18-year-old Sherrie smile. Maybe this is what comes of reading too much science fiction as a child. Maybe this is what comes from letting the energy inside you churn round and round.

For more thoughts on the forces of life twirling and spinning, check out my y1 blog here as I share some joy and check out my x0 blog here for thoughts on particle physics and world peace.