The partial solar eclipse
Yesterday was a big day. That is if you owned an Airbnb in Salem, Oregon or a motel in Charleston, South Carolina. But knowing high humidity Charleston, it might have been too cloudy there. We didn’t get the total eclipse of the sun that the diagonal strip across the country received from the northwest to the southeast. We were out of range. The expectations were for major traffic jams in horse towns in Georgia. Overbooked motels in Idaho. All of this for two minutes and forty seconds of totality when the sun is fully blocked by the moon. Yet, the totality only affected a 70 mile wide path of the country so people flocked to these places to see a very rare astronomical occurrence. I guess you could say we were in the path of partiality.
At times such as these, it’s refreshing to live in Imperial Valley. No hubbub. I couldn’t find those dang solar eclipse viewing glasses anyhow. I called our ophthalmologist, but even he hadn’t stocked up on those retina protecting glasses. Libraries throughout the country were distributing millions of protective glasses, a must wear to prevent damage to the eyes, but none of those glasses, maybe from NASA, didn’t trickle down to us. Not many resources do. If you didn’t have glasses, it was suggested making a pin hole in a cardboard and projecting it onto another piece of cardboard with your back to the sun. Or you could get those No. 14 welder glasses out of the closet and scare the hell out of everyone.
At first I figured a solar eclipse, a big deal, would darken all of the U.S., but only the news from Washington, D.C. can do that. Then I learned the details about the path of totality and was disappointed that El Centro would be about as bright as ever in August. I had marked our calendar with a big black dot. My wife asked if that was a reminder about our anniversary. “What,” I asked in astonishment? Yes. It’s undeniable. Men are missing the “remember the anniversary” gene. I don’t know much about DNA and chromosomes, but it’s abundantly clear that we’re a chromosome short on the anniversary memory thing. There are reminders all over the house. Little dated keepsakes from our wedding. All I need to do is look. It’s possible that I don’t even see these things anymore. They become part of the woodwork. Perhaps a tattoo would work. There’s another path of totality here. Once a year a cloud passes in front of my brain, and I forget our anniversary. It’s like personal astronomy, man.
But now the house is decorated in hearts, and I’ve written lots of reminders. I skipped the tattoo, although it would be useful to get into coffee shops and bars in North Park. Without tattoos, you’re a real outsider, a hayseed from the Valley, though I have friends here with tattoos. Lots of tattoos. I also noticed a sign at a new establishment on Imperial Ave. in El Centro that advertises tattoo removal. Is it true they just leave you out back in the sun for a few days? I’ll leave it to the stick-on tattoos. They’re a better bet for guys who may get a “Marie and Me Forever!” tattoo only to marry Dianne. Uh, oh.
I have good news for Valley residents. Although we’ve been eclipsed by this eclipse, our chances are better on April 8, 2024 when a total eclipse passes from Mazatlan to Dallas. We’ll be closer to the full shadow. Our eclipse coverage will be 57.37 percent at 11:13 a.m. I love astronomical calculations. They are so precise. Yet, I can’t even remember one very important date of the entire year. Maybe a tattoo isn’t a bad idea.