avatarDebra G. Harman, MEd.

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ECLIPSE 2024

The Eclipses of My Life

So far, I’ve spent three eclipses with those I love

Group of my friends wearing eclipse glasses, lying on the grass and waiting for totality, Photo property of author and may not be shared.

I’ve spent three eclipses with people I loved intensely. The sense of awe in an eclipse totality is too huge to experience alone. I love hearing the world go silent. The birds chirp, as if at sundown. The chickens go to their roosts. And us humans? We laugh, cry, swear, and shout to our friends.

In my three experiences with eclipses, when totality occurs and the false night approaches, people — like the hens and birds — stop clucking and go quiet. On occasion, they frolic. It’s a giddy, incredible experience.

1979, Oregon City, OR — my first eclipse

This is an eclipse that’s hard for me to remember. At nineteen years of age, I attended community college, and gathered there with others to experience the eclipse. The weather wasn’t that great, as I recall. It was in February. My memory of this event compresses with another memory.

In late June of 1979, my brother was killed in a car accident. Eight days later, I went to a 4th of July celebration at the same community college. I was with my boyfriend, who invited me to watch fireworks with him. I so badly needed to stop grieving for ten minutes. My head was a mess. My heart was desperately broken.

At the gathering before the fireworks, a young woman who knew my brother ran up to me, grabbed me, and began waxing and wailing about my brother.

All I saw was wild hair, and a desperate crying face, like a horrid mask. After eight days of little sleep and a memorial service, I was exhausted and her theatrics frightened me.

She loved him. She loved me. She couldn’t believe he was dead.

It was dreadful, and I remember going into a silent daze. I couldn’t speak. My boyfriend led me away and tried to shield me from her.

At one of these two events, I rode an elephant. I think it was at the eclipse event, but I’m not sure. It’s an odd memory. It was a bad year.

Eclipse on the Baja Peninsula — July 11, 1991

This was the most amazing eclipse of my lifetime — and there will never be another like it.

Ken, my ex and I, weren’t yet married. This eclipse was all the talk in our circle, in Eugene, Oregon. Hippie town! The best viewing point would be on the Baja Peninsula, so I took three weeks off work and we went on a road trip.

Driving down the Baja Peninsula is always an experience. Passing through the border crossing at Southern California. Getting through intensely busy Tijuana. Then, passing the beautiful beaches and Pacific Ocean. Mexican families barbeque on the beach, and the surf is stunning.

Through the town of Guerrero Negro, the “black warrior” that marks the center of the peninsula, dividing north from south. A trip to the salt mines there, the crystalline landscape of the ocean an odd sight, so bright and unreal.

Then, south we went, my bare legs up and out the window as I rode in the passenger seat. We listened to U2 and John Hiatt — his song “Drive South” rings in my mind, the guitar, his voice, our road trip!

Come on, baby, drive south! with the one you love… Come on, baby, drive south! with the one you love…

When July 11th came, Ken and I were in a tiny dusty place, with perhaps fifty other people who traveled south. A cantina was nearby. We drank beer and ate some beans and rice. Then, we joined others in the desert. Cactus was there. Telescopes, and serious eclipse watchers too.

We were thirty-one and thirty-three years old, all long hair and blue jeans. Totality was long, very long. An older man with a telescope said, “Would you like to look?” He had special devices so we wouldn’t be injured, and of course, we had eclipse glasses — thick welders’ glasses we’d gotten from Mac, our friend who did bronze statues.

I remember the elderly man’s quiet kindness and his smile, his gesture, “Come, come! Please look!”

So generous.

Ken urged me forward and I saw — the diamond ring of totality, the glistening circle of sun and the tiny speck of diamond. Then, I moved back quickly, knowing in my woman’s heart that Ken was more of an eclipse lover. It was a precious moment to me, all of it.

The stillness, the murmurs of the crowd, the quiet narratives and notices of various eclipse watchers. The jargon of eclipse watchers is a language all its own. I admit, at the 1991 eclipse event on the Baja Peninsula, the diamond ring was what I was interested in.

Would Ken propose during totality? No, he did not. I hoped! I was so crazy in love with him, his sapphire blue eyes and reddish-brown hair. His lithe man’s body. The eclipse of July 1991 was an event I hold dear. Like an insect in amber, it is a memory for the ages.

August 21st, 2017 I experienced an eclipse in my yard!

This event was called The Great American Eclipse.

I could have experienced it at Silver Falls State Park, where I volunteer, but decided to stay home where we would experience totality.

It was my bff’s birthday. She turned fifty-seven, and I invited her to come to our place with her girlfriend of many years.

We made BBQ ribs, I got her a birthday cake, and we worked to keep things calm. She’d brought her friends. When the eclipse occurred just past 10 a.m., I took a photo. This is the moon covering the sun at totality. It was a stunning moment.

Photo by author

And tomorrow, another eclipse!

We won’t experience totality in Oregon, but I celebrate for those who will experience the movement of the moon covering the sun. I’ve reflected about the eclipses in my life in this last week, and here’s what I think.

An eclipse reminds me there is something much bigger than I am. I’m not talking about God. I’m talking about huge masses of rock, gas, and matter moving around.

Celestial chess pieces.

Tomorrow, the moon once more announces a checkmate. Her move, on April 8th, will bring an eclipse to those lucky enough to be in the swath affected by the total eclipse. The moon will pass between planet earth and the sun — and how incredible, how remarkable it is that the moon is just the right size. The moon will block the sun entirely, except for a tiny rim.

Enjoy every moment — and try to be with someone you love. You’ll never forget your first or last eclipse.

Life
Life Lessons
Eclipse
Nonfiction
This Happened To Me
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