You Need to See the Total Eclipse in April

In 2017, I was in Atchison, KS cursing at clouds.

It was Aug. 21, just before I was set to start my second year of graduate school at the University of Kansas. The first total solar eclipse to be visible from North America since 1979 and the first to be visible from anywhere close to where I lived since 1918. And here I was, living only an hour away from totality.

It was a big deal.

So my department chartered a couple of buses and hauled as many of us as they could cram to the campus of Benedictine College. Eclipse glasses in hand we traveled an hour northeast to hopefully see one of the rarest and breathtaking astronomical events humans can hope to see.

The clouds rolled in. Nothing leaves you feeling more powerless than when nature doesn’t follow your plans.

Because the plan was simple. It was summertime in Kansas. Hot and dry. A clear sky was not supposed to be an issue. We found ourselves on the baseball field with our lawn chairs and blankets, looking nervously up as the clouds started to pile up and get darker.

Then, a few hours before the eclipse was due to begin, the rain started.

Here we were, dozens of us, huddled in the dugouts of the Asher Sports Complex, waiting. Just waiting. And chatting. Blowing bubbles. Trying to make ourselves feel better about what was surely going to be a disappointing day. What else could we do?

Making the best of it.

——

This was my first - and so far only - eclipse. The only other time I could have possible seen an eclipse was May 10, 1994 when an annular eclipse swept across North America. I would have been 10 years old, and I have no memory of it. So whether I saw it or not, I guess I didn’t.

I have seen a couple of lunar eclipses. If a solar eclipse is when the Moon finds itself at just the right spot between Earth and the Sun, a lunar eclipse is when the Earth blocks the Sun from shining on the Moon. The Moon has no light of its own; we see the Moon because it reflects the light from the Sun. But when the Earth blocks that light, the Moon transforms its color from bright white to deep red. The Moon, rather than reflecting the light from the Sun, is reflecting back to us the light of every sunset on Earth.

In some ways, I prefer lunar eclipses to solar ones. They’re more accessible. There is not a narrow strip of Earth where a lunar eclipse is visible. If the Moon is up where you live during a lunar eclipse, you can see it. And you don’t need any special equipment to see it. You can watch it for as long as you like without fear with just your eyes.

While the blood red moon of a lunar eclipse is breathtaking, it also happens at night, often when people are sleeping. It’s an extremely ignorable event. With a solar eclipse, that’s not so.

During a solar eclipse, if you are in the path of totality, you are witness to the inescapable fact of the movement of the Universe. The temperature drops. Insects start to sing. And then when totality hits…silence. It’s a stark reminder that we are all evolved to live on this planet. Life on Earth has rhythms based on the Sun. We are dependent on it for our survival.

——

The rain came and went throughout the hours before the eclipse. I desperately wanted to lose hope. I thought the uncertainty and disappointment would be easier to deal with if I didn’t have hope. I’m not an optimist by nature, but that day, for whatever reason, I was. So I kept an eye on the weather app on my phone. This could clear, I unconvincingly said to whoever was next to me.

The eclipse started around 11:40 in the morning. The rain had stopped. The clouds were still in the way, but less so. There were pockets of sky that allowed for limited glimpses of the partial phase. Just enough to keep hope alive.

So there we were, dozens of us, out on a baseball field in the middle of the day, looking up at the silhouette of the Moon cross the disk of the Sun when the clouds would let us. All of us hoping that the clouds would break in time to see totality.

It was an excruciating 80 minutes. As the Sun approached 80 percent coverage, the air started to cool and birds and insects started to chirp. Then, the clouds parted. We could see it the Diamond Ring as the the Moon slipped right between the Earth and the Sun.

And then it was dark.

We took off our protective glasses and stared up at our completely obscured star. At 1:06 pm CDT, for 2 minutes and 19 seconds, the Sun was gone.

Those aren’t clouds! Just my terrible smartphone camera!

I’m not someone who experiences a lot of excess awe. I’ve never been moved to tears by a sunset or a painting. I didn’t expect to feel anything during totality. And that’s, maybe, what made the biggest impression. And it’s still, even years later, just a feeling. I didn’t see the eclipse. I experienced it. I had goosebumps, not just because of the temperature change, but from it was. It was unnerving and wonderful. The stress and uncertainty that came with the rain disappeared. It was just us the the sky.

The clouds rolled back in just before the last bit of partial eclipse was fading. I turned to my partner and said, “When’s the next one?”

We went to the cafeteria for lunch.

Watching totality.

——

Another eclipse crosses North America on April 8, 2024, and you should go see it in it’s path of totality if you possibly can. Not only because another total eclipse doesn’t even touch the continent until 2044, although that is true. This is a gift you can give yourself and your family and friends. It’s a chance to stop and be reminded of where you are and what that means. It’s an opportunity to feel something unexpected.

I wish I was a better writer so I could convince you that this is worth it. But go. If you can, go to totality. Take your friends and loved ones. You will never forget it.