There Goes The Sun

  I’ve written to you about my issues with SAD (seasonal affective disorder) in earlier posts. For decades my mood has been controlled by the amount of sunlight during the day. By October, there is so little sunlight that my brain goes dark too as depression descends. Fortunately, by this time of year, my depression has fled. Good, because April 8, 2024 is coming.

The sun has such a powerful effect on me, its no wonder I see why ancient humans worshiped that

glowing yellow ball dominating the daytime sky. The Egyptians, Incas in Peru, people in Babylon, China, Africa, even Rome did the same. Some Native American tribes considered the sun part of the Great Spirit. Solar eclipses were frequently considered signs of the god’s displeasure. People were often terrified during the few minutes of totality, worried that the sun might have abandoned the Earth forever. In fact, the word eclipse comes from a Greek word meaning abandonment.

 
These days we know the cause of solar eclipses. We know its just the full moon’s shadow passing over the Earth’s surface and temporarily obscuring the sun. And we understand the math and physics enough to accurately calculate the dates, location, and duration when this shadow will touch down and hide the sun from view.

 
And yet …

Some of the old superstitions still nestle deep inside some human hearts. My heart, at least. I realized that in a frozen Canadian plain on February 26, 1979, when I experienced my first total solar eclipse. The sub-zero grew noticeably colder as the sun faded away. But I forgot that I was cold once this gigantic hole opened in the sky. The place where the sun had been was now a void empty of stars. A magical nothingness surrounded by a ring of fire. I stood, open-mouthed, just staring into the void. Animals were headed for their homes, leaving only a gaggle of foolish humans standing motionless on the ice, staring up at that emptiness.

 

I had paid big money (for those days) to travel from a warm apartment in Chicago, Ill to Manitoba, Canada just so I could stand on an icy field so I could witness the phenomenon that had terrified so many of our ancestors. I spent just over two minutes in the darkness known as totality that day. It was my first eclipse, but not my last. Over the years I became a veteran eclipse chaser. Instead of fearing the darkness, I raced to meet it across the globe wherever I had the opportunity.

• June 11, 1983  for almost 5 minutes
• July 23, 1990  for 2 minutes
• July 11, 1991  for almost 7 minutes
• August 11, 1999  for over 2 minutes
• March 29, 2006 for over 4 minutes
• August 21, 2017 (nicknamed “The Great American Eclipse”) for 2 ½ minutes

And now, April 8, 2024. This one is expected to last almost 4 minutes in southern Illinois where I will be observing with others at a special presentation at Southern Illinois University, only a five hour drive away from my home. I have traveled as far away as Russia, Lybia and Argentina in pursuit of an eclipse. 2017 found me close, in Missouri. This time I get to stay even closer to home, in Illinois. Fitting, because this will likely be my last eclipse. I will have spent almost a half hour in totality. April 8 will be a bookend to my expriences, and I am looking forward to relaxing, looking up, and staring into the void.