LOCAL: Houstonians are thrilled despite seeing only 67 percent

With sweaty, sun-beaten necks craned upward, starry-eyed Houstonians gazed in awe early Monday afternoon as the solar eclipse, the first in nearly a century to pass from coast to coast of the United States, reached its climactic crescent.

Thousands abandoned their air-conditioned havens and gathered in the sweltering summer heat in parks across the city to witness the partial eclipse— which experts say covered around 67 percent of the sun in Houston—with the help of eclipse glasses, specialty binoculars, or makeshift cereal box viewers.

More than 2,000 onlookers crowded into the 5.9-acre Levy Park in Upper Kirby for an artsy and informative viewing event hosted by the Lunar and Planetary Institute. Organizers quickly ran out of

the 1,800 eclipse glasses they purchased for the event.

“It’s kind of overwhelming to see what seems like all of Houston here,” said Natalye Appel, 59, the architect who designed the newly built park. “If you’ve never seen an eclipse, it’s like falling in love, you should do it at least once.”

At 1:16 p.m., the eclipse peak, she peered through her protective glasses. “Oh my gosh, it’s almost gone,” Appel interjected in childlike glee. “It’s just a sliver. Oh, it’s amazing.”

The local crowd was among millions of Americans to be drawn together by the celestial phenomenon as the total eclipse’s path ran from Oregon to South Carolina.

The occasion had an unusual way of bringing Houstonians together. Patricia Devita, who moved with her husband back to the Bayou City last week after 16 years elsewhere, arrived at the park without glasses, but quickly found a crowd who offered to share with her.

“We’re all sharing in this experience. They’re our new family,” Devita said, pointing at the family beside her who lent her their glasses. “This is what I love about Houston. People are friendly, they welcome you, they share with you, and they adopt you as a family.”

Wearing a planet-covered blouse and slippers with a crescent moon design, Katie Robinson, a postdoctoral student who studies moon rocks at the Lunar and Planetary Institute, weaved through the crowded park handing out paper with pinholes in lieu of glasses.

“Nothing replaces seeing the eclipse in person, seeing the bite taken out of the sun,” Robinson said, peering down at the solar shadow made by the pinhole.

Elynor Soto, 50, also dressed festively alongside her husband Omar, 47, wearing a black T-shirt that read, “You will find me in the path of totality.” The duo were present for a total solar eclipse in Venezuela in 1998, and were slightly disappointed after expecting a similar scene Monday. They will have to wait until 2024, when the path of totality will pass directly over Texas.

With a $20 mylar filter over his camera, Patrick Appel, a local lawyer and brother of Natalye, found a cheap, amateur way to capture images of his first solar eclipse.

“During the last eclipse visible from Houston, I had to be inside for a deposition and couldn’t go outside,” said Appel, 57. “This is the first one that I’ve seen, though it’s more fun watching the people.”

Earlier in the morning, crowds of families flocked to the Children’s Museum of Houston to get a lesson in planetary science, with a special emphasis on safety ahead of the eclipse.

Manning the “Interstellar Research Hub,” Briana Falls, 24, demonstrated the eclipse with a globe, moon and flashlight, and fielded questions from a gathering of puzzled tots.

“Does the sun hit the Earth during an eclipse?” asked a confused but smiling Ivy Flint, 4, sporting a pair of patriotic sunglasses. “No,” Falls responded, attempting to explain the Earth’s axis.

“But is the Earth going to crash into the sun?” she persisted, unsatisfied with Falls’ explanation.

When Ivy is 11, and the next solar eclipse passes over Texas, she undoubtedly will have a better understanding of the phenomenon.