“It’s so great that there’s an eclipse on the first day of class!” Dad rejoiced, thrilled that he had an excuse not to go to campus. He then played a BBC News video on the event conveying such exciting sentiments as “Good luck, America” and “This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see an eclipse from your own country.” What was even more exciting was the fact that Western Carolina University, Dad’s alma mater and place of work, had made a name for itself by being “the only college in the path of totality.”
Our viewing of the eclipse on the Western Carolina website was preceded by interviews with various college administrators like the chancellor, discussion of the Cherokee eclipse legend and Western’s new charting devices, and images of the expectant and bespectacled crowds swarming over the campus. “I know these guys,” Dad would remark, popping in as various interviewees were introduced. It was thrilling—and gave a new perspective—to see video coverage of a place I had actually been. We listened as the former student who now served as master of ceremonies described the point at which he would tell everyone to take off their glasses and look straight at the sun.
Gradually, the light outside began to change, and everything was tinted with a coppery glow that was unlike anything we had ever seen before. Joseph and Dominic hurried to set up the camera and telescope just inside the picture window, while Christopher and Therese kept dashing outside to look at the sky, causing Dad enormous consternation. Having grown up in India, where everyone was told to keep to their houses with the windows closed during an eclipse, he was extremely worried that they would ruin their eyes. He kept admonishing them not to look up, and spent the majority of the time on the living room couch, refusing to look out the windows, and relaying that his own eyes had started to burn. Mom told him that the sensation was psychological, and, when he suggested covering up the windows, said that he was getting the eclipse mixed up with the “Three Days’ Darkness” prophecy.
Meanwhile, the afternoon had grown darker than it had ever been at that time of day. However, the ground was devoid of shadows. A strange green light covered everything, and someone asked if a tornado was coming. Inside on the computer screen, the sun had started going behind the moon. Its epic progress was the more enhanced by the commentator’s voice, and culminated when he declared “We have reached totality!” It was then that I saw the image that before now I had only seen in pictures: that black sphere surrounded by the thinnest sliver of light. On campus, it looked like night had fallen.
“Take off your glasses and look at the sun!” the MC exclaimed. He then pointed out the planets and constellations that could be seen in the sky around it. “Take a second to savour this moment,” he urged, just before the sun started coming back out from behind the moon. As it rose with a piercing white brilliance, I was immediately reminded of the Resurrection. Its reappearance brought with it a feeling of relief, and a promise of perpetuity in a way, when the object that gives us light and heat returned.
Dad was noticeably relieved as the atmosphere returned to normal, but still complained of a pain in his eyes. He affirmed that he was definitely glad we hadn’t gone to campus to watch the eclipse and was even more grateful when he afterwards learned that it took our local friend, Keith Allison, over two hours to get back to his house from the point at which he had watched it.
Prior to the eclipse, commentators had been stating that this “rare event” was one that each of us would remember for the rest of our lives. I had doubted this, wondering what, in the end, could be so memorable about an eclipse that you didn’t “experience” in person. However, afterwards, I knew that I would remember this day for the rest of my life. The altered and totally new atmosphere outside our doors, along with the knowledge that what was happening on our computer screen was happening in reality, made for an experience laden with the aura of unforgettable-ness. And there was nothing to describe those moments when the sun went behind the moon and then came out again, save to say that they seemed to bring me very close to God. I felt and saw, in those moments, at least a fraction of His power and majesty.
It was, of course, an exaggeration on the MC’s part, but what also impressed me about the “Great American Eclipse” was the fact that Cullowhee, the little town where I was born, was, because of it, at least for a day, “the center of the universe.”
For more fantastic articles from our latest magazine issue ‘Space’, please click on the below link:
F&F Fall 2019: Space