We repaired to our town beach to watch, and then we stayed to watch what we thought was the eclipse, but it was slow in coming so we went home and watched that from the privacy of our back stoop.
The trip to the beach was worth it, though. Entire families came in their cars with their dogs and their grandparents and the assorted picnic blanket. One family was discussing the next time this super moon will appear — 2033 — and one older lady (from the sound of her voice, anyway), laughed and said, “I may not be in on that one,” and everyone got really quiet a moment and then a kid burped and they laughed and went back to focusing on the here and now.
I find myself doing that kind of math, as well, and I always have. Someone mentions something that will happen a few decades down the road, and I do quick math and think either “I might see that,” or “No way.” I’ve learned to stop saying out loud the results of my equations because I sound ghoulish when all I mean to sound is practical.
Once the eclipse finally started, it was eerie to watch, and I once again had compassion for my ancestors who prayed that God return the moon — or the sun, or whatever heavenly body was briefly blocked. Imagine you’re out on a late-night hunting trip, or simply walking to the bushes to relieve yourself, and you look up and see a red orb where the moon used to be. Of course you awaken the village, maybe find a scapegoat. When the moon finally morphed into a dim red orb, I felt like beating a drum, myself. What a show.
Dating Jesus 
Sap part of it, but missed the finale. Got caught up watching God deliver Peyton from the Lion’s den. Couple of miracles there.
Sap?
I speak Leftover and knew precisely what you meant.
” I’ve learned to stop saying out loud the results of my equations because I sound ghoulish when all I mean to sound is practical.”
Exactly. I’m currently working with a borrowed “chop-saw” and a friend says I should get my own because they really are so efficient, and I’m thinking “Really? How many more carpentry-projects exactly do I think I’m going to attempt? A kayak-shed? How many more years exactly do I think I’m going to be able to haul a kayak around?” It’s sobering and sad and in a little way, kind of freeing.
Not to mention missing the joys and horrors of the future of this poor world.
Isn’t that funny? I accept my own planned obsolescence. Mostly.
It’s an interesting perspective, f’sher. “Oh, wait, …….”
I plan on being around for the next one because it was too cloudy (where I was) to see this one. I’ve seen fabulous photos from CT.
It was really kind of awe-inspiring. Sorry yours was cloudy.
I watched it with four others, the youngest of which will be 71 in 2033. We agreed to watch it together then as well. I’m not much of a planner or optimist but I put it my calendar just the same.
Well, someone has to be there to watch it. Why not you and your friends?
We saw it, in peripheral vision, through a big window. We were tired, curled up on a couch, and I was reading Peter Beagle’s “The Innkeeper’s Song” aloud. The eclipse was not so spectacular, but the moment was memorable.
Awake at 5 the next morning, the moon low in the sky and huge and bright … now that was a sight. Venus, the morning star, was brighter in the sky than I can remember ever having seen it. Beautiful skies happen rather more often than eclipses, don’t they. :-)
Too true.