An eclipse brings out the best in us

We Americans are increasingly skilled at finding things that divide us, but last Monday legions of us found a common interest … even if only for a few minutes.

The experts estimated that about 32 million residents of the continental United States lived in the path of that well-publicized total solar eclipse that spread like a beauty queen’s sash from Texas all the way to Maine.

Untold millions more of us — present company included — made a pilgrimage to the path in hopes of even a glimpse of this rare celestial happening.

OK, that’s a lie.

I wanted more than a glimpse. I wanted the whole shebang.

I really, really wanted it.

But, alas, Mother Nature had other plans for the location where I was camped out for the day with one of my brothers and some of our lifelong friends.

Our group ranged in age from 16 months to 77 years, and I think this would have been a first total eclipse for us all.

We arrived with enough pairs of eclipse glasses to outfit an entire regiment, but we never had enough sun to use them even once.

The few tiny glimpses we had of the crescent sun being consumed by the moon were muted by layers of clouds that made the sun so dim it wasn’t even visible through our protective eye-wear.

In the years, then months, then weeks, and finally days leading up to this long-anticipated event, we had discussed various strategies for maximizing success.

When a casual conversation revealed the possibility of using the private land where we ended up, we quickly abandoned our original plan and shifted gears.

We deliberately sacrificed the lure of one extra minute in total darkness for the luxury of a bathroom we could use anytime we needed it. (Even in the grandest of natural events, I have my priorities.)

With all due respect to weather forecasters, when rain is predicted in eastern New Mexico, it’s a fair bet you will have sunny skies at least part of the time.

So when those Texas forecasters predicted a high likelihood of cloud cover and a decent chance of showers, I knew — I just knew — they would be wrong.

Some positives: We were plunged into a deeper level of darkness than I had anticipated (those glowering clouds helped with that, too). The song birds fell silent for the duration. Golden lights spilled out of the windows of the nearby house and across the porch.

The next morning as I started home, I pulled into a convenience store near Kerrville, Texas. Kerrville had been our original pick for a location until we heard that it was also expected to be the pick of a half million other people. (Plus the whole private bathroom upgrade, of course.)

The clerk asked if I’d seen the eclipse and I told her my tale of woe. She whipped out her phone to show me the photos she’d taken from the parking lot by her store where she had perfect conditions to witness a dazzling, heart-stopping, life-altering four minutes of pure totality.

Final positive: I told her I was happy for her.

The best part? I truly was.

Betty Williamson continues to learn from the best. Reach her at:

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