The Dark at the Top of the Stares

When the moon blocks the sun, and you look for a pun, that's amore...

(Our late beloved dog, Dahlia, with her protective eye goggles)

Here is something about me, and you can confirm it with my family if you don’t believe it. Anytime the entire country unites in giddy excitement over one single thing, I lose interest. I just go somewhere else until it’s over.

I’m talking about the really big stuff. Super Bowls. Taylor Swift. Pumpkin spice…

“Hey!  Where the hell is that Bob guy going in such a damned big hurry?”

“Oh, I think he’s just running away from the pickleball players. It’s too popular.”

My longstanding reluctance to join the crowd has surfaced again recently, thanks to the upcoming solar eclipse. They tell me that on April 8, in the middle of the afternoon, it will be light outside, and then it will slowly get dark, and then it will become light again. Folks seem to be going absolutely wacko over this.

If this sort of thing appeals to you, you can come on over to my house any evening. We have events we like to call sunsets and sunrises. They seem very similar to an eclipse, and they last a whole lot longer.

If the important thing for you is that it has to happen in the middle of the day, I’ve got you covered there, too. We can just stand in my bathroom as I slowly turn off the overhead lightbulb with a dimmer, and then gradually brighten it back up again. So, it’s a lot like the eclipse, except, you know, you’re in a bathroom.

(The path of totality)

My city, Indianapolis, is perfectly situated in the so-called “path of totality” for the Great American Eclipse. It turns out there is a very narrow strip – like a foot wide or something like that – that goes from Texas to Maine, and we will have a ringside view.

An estimated 331 million people – the entire U.S. population - will be squeezing into that slim path. Many will foolishly try bringing their cars with them.

We are told that 100,000 people will come to Indianapolis for this. The big event is a month away, but I’m already seeing my town filling up with hucksters and grifters. I figure my normally quiet hometown is going to look like the place where they had that Scopes Monkey Trial.

Full disclosure: Several fine organizations I have close connections with are among those planning eclipse viewing events, and I hope they make a fortune from it, because they do good stuff with the money.

But only in America, where the sky, the sun and the moon are all absolutely free, could folks be making a buck by charging to see them.

The Art Museum here began selling tickets to the eclipse months ago, calling the it “the event of a lifetime.” Those are their words, not mine.

I guess I need to rearrange my life’s most beautiful experiences. If a four-minute celestial dime store novelty thrill can become “the event of a lifetime,” then where does that leave my other cherished memories, like falling in love, getting married, watching the birth of our son, and hearing him use sarcasm for the first time?

My wife bought tickets to the Museum’s eclipse event, but then we read that reserved parking was $30 extra. They said not to worry about it, though, because parking is already sold out, anyway.

I was getting pretty pissed-off about that parking thing, when I heard the police say the streets and highways might be so clogged you may not even be able to make it to where you’re going anyhow, unless you already left home last Saturday.

It gets much worse. I actually saw a story offering advice to those of us who live here, and it said we should make sure we have a three-day supply of food and water on hand at home. Seriously? The streets may be so full of zombie-like eclipse buffs bumping into one another in the darkness, that the rest of us will be frozen in place for days?

I know mistakes are bound to happen. The following is a cautionary dramatization for educational purposes only:

“Honey, do you think this eclipse thing is almost over?”

“I’ll have a look. Here, I’ve got my special eclipse glasses.”

“Noooooooo! Those are your Apple Vision goggles, you chowderhead! You just melted your eyeballs! I’m not cleaning up this mess!”

End of educational dramatization.

Whenever there is a total eclipse, a few witches are going to get burned at the stake. Collateral damage. It’s okay, it’s something we’ve done since the 12^th century, but  this might be a good time for you to take last year’s Halloween costume to Goodwill, just to get it out of your house.

(Someone forgot his eclipse glasses)

I began today’s story by admitting I don’t like massive pop culture events, and this is partly because they make certain things about my fellow humans abundantly clear.

Like, I have found eclipse advisories from the police warning motorists not to just stop on the Interstate to get out and watch the event. Hey, officer, thanks for letting me know I shouldn’t suddenly drop my speed from 55 mph to zero!

You know what else?  You can actually find people online who are asking for instructions on taking an eclipse selfie. I’m not making this up.

“Yep, this is me, on the left, and the moon and sun are there, on the right...”  

That selfie will prove you were among the elite few hundred million people who were there, so post it on Facebook! Encourage your friends to do the same!

We’re just not going to make it as a civilization, are we?