(Editor’s Note: Talk about Murphy’s Law referenced in this story last week. The adage that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong” struck this story itself when a technical glitch sent most readers back to the “Early Voting” story rather than this “Total Eclipse” item. Let’s hope for better this time around. Thanks for your patience, WPJ.)
The total eclipse of the sun on Monday, April 8, was as impressive as you read about, if you’re in the right place. When we learned a year ago that our son’s home in east Texas was in the path of the eclipse, we said we’d like to come. He had the sun-proof glasses and a spare bedroom. All was set.
Then there’s Murphy’s Law. What could go wrong? On our visits to Corsicana, we’re generally greeted by warm, open, blue skies. What if the weather chose that one special day to put on a Louisiana-style overcast or even a rain storm? So we started watching our cell phones for weather forecasts. Sure enough, as April 8 neared, clouds and maybe rain were in the picture. “Bummer,” our kids would say.
We headed west, still optimistic. Friday was beautiful, warm and sunny. But Saturday dawned drab and cloudy, a shroud of fog over the fields. As the day burned away, so did the clouds. By 12:30 (the start time for Monday’s eclipse) all was clear. Same thing happened Sunday. But when Monday arrived the opening curtain looked bleak, with a heavy overcast and rain predicted.
By noon, the sky was mostly cloudy yet the sun peeked through from time to time. With our special glasses handy, we sat on the back patio, glancing up at the sun periodically when it broke through. The eclipse started punctually at 12:20 and over time, between the clouds, we watched the sun’s sphere slowly nibbled away by the moon’s shadow until it looked through the glasses like an orange crescent moon.
Then Murphy’s Law struck…in reverse. As the cloud cover continued drifting eastward, we saw a large expanse of clear blue to the west, headed our direction. The magic and majesty of the eclipse was unfolding. As the shadow neared its totality and the sun was the tiniest sliver, it was as if Old Sol was fighting to resist, sending all its light and energy through that narrow gap. For the sunlight was no longer a warm yellow but an intense, bright white-hot light.
Then it was gone. In the total eclipse, the sun’s face is blocked and only the outer ring of the corona is there to accent the rim of the black shadow. Plus a couple of solar flares visible through binoculars. And, yes, we are now watching the entire four-minute show of the total eclipse through that one large open space in the clouds. It was amazing. The next total eclipse being discussed is two decades out.
On “decades,” Diane and I just marked an event that at one time was a regular feature in weekly newspapers: our 50th Anniversary. We found a nice cabin near Nacogdoches, Texas’ oldest town, and enjoyed a couple of quiet days there before making a short drive through the woods to Corsicana.
So I use this opportunity to answer the question, “To what do you attribute your marriage success?” Just a couple of words: Love. Compromise. Commitment. And the need to have a Christ-centered household.
Our greatest success? I think that Diane and I could each point at one thing or another but in the long run, I think we’d conclude it’s our children. We are given only so much time on this earth so it’s good to see your children carry on the values and beliefs impressed on them by their parents and grandparents.
My son concluded in a card he made for us, “Nothing eclipses the day you met.”
