GDB Shares His Eclipse Experience

What a treat! I'll be honest, I don't think I fully understood the significance of this event until it happened. Like many people, I go about my daily life, focused on taking care of my family, earning an income, staying healthy, and all those other things that consume our time. I had first heard that it was coming a couple years ago, but it really didn't hit my radar until earlier this year. And when I heard that northern Vermont was in store for totality, I got pretty psyched for it.

I'm talking, of course, about the total solar eclipse that darkened a swath across the globe on April 8, 2024. I had seen plenty of partial solar and lunar eclipses in my time. So many that, to be truthful, they had become fairly unimpressive. Not that I don't appreciate these unique astronomical phenomena, but once you've seen a few eclipses the next one doesn't seem so exciting.

This time was different. The hype had reached fever pitch. You could just feel it becoming something special. Especially in our area, the media had embraced the story with a fervor I don't recall seeing with any news story in recent history. Billed as a "once in a lifetime event," it did not disappoint.

We woke up the morning of April 8th to a beautiful sunshiny day here in Vermont, so the viewing conditions promised to be ideal. Some of our friends drove over to the lake to claim a spot on the beach and take in the action while the water lapped against their feet. But my daughter’s school was hosting a viewing event, so we decided to make some family memories and watch the eclipse together on the schoolgrounds. The staff did a great job. They transformed the playground into what felt like a miniature carnival. Several families set up vending tables with drinks, snacks, and sweet treats for sale, while the teachers organized games and other activities to keep the kids busy as we waited for the big moment.

My wife and I brought a blanket and our special viewing glasses (thank you, Amazon) and visited with friends while the kids buzzed around. As the minutes passed and the time grew near, everyone settled into their spots and we gazed skyward with our silly-looking specs. The anticipation was intense. And then, after months and years of build up, the moon silently darkened a sliver of the sun, and the oohs and aahs rippled through the crowd. It had begun.

What followed was simply incredible. I hate to say "you had to be there," but you really had to be there. I hope you were lucky enough to have experienced totality for yourself, but if not I would highly recommend trying to catch it the next time around. If you don't expect to be in the direct path of the eclipse, which is the only place you can see what I'm talking about, it's worth a plane ticket or a tank of gas to get to a place that is. Why, you ask?

You would never have known the moon was slowly creeping its way in front of the sun if not for the glasses. There was no appreciable change in the amount of light in the sky, even when the moon had halfway blocked the sun. It was about three-quarters covered when it started to feel like something strange was happening. From that point until totality, it was as if the sun was setting many times faster than normal, like time had sped up with no warning and you were powerless to stop it. The sky continued to dim in those final few minutes, faster and faster, until it felt like dusk, when those last bits of light struggle to hold onto the day.

And then, totality. It was like someone snapped their fingers and the lights went out. It was nighttime at 3:26 in the afternoon.

The oohs and aahs turned to gasps, laughter, and even some crying. Some of the children had a hard time with it. I admit that it was such an unsettling feeling, so completely out of the norm, that I got very anxious myself. A horrible feeling of doom came over me - and I'm a horror writer! It's hard to explain other than to say that it felt entirely unnatural. When you walk the earth for decades without experiencing something like that, and suddenly your whole sense of how things work is thrown on its head, it can really mess you up. I can only imagine what our ancient ancestors must have thought when the sun was suddenly blotted out, without a clue that what was happening was perfectly harmless, just rare. No wonder they created stories of gods and monsters that meted out justice on their earthbound minions with lightning and thunder and other celestial terrors. They had to fill in the blanks to keep from seriously losing it (!)

And another thing that added to the creepiness of the whole thing was that when the sun was completely blocked, the temperature dropped by what felt like about ten degrees. We went from breaking a sweat to breaking out the sweaters almost instantaneously. That was a real trip.

About three minutes after the lights went out, someone flipped the switch and they came back on. The temperature rose, the sky brightened, and the children breathed easier. It wasn't long before the playground was abuzz with kids again, many asking their parents for money to buy cookies and lemonade - mine included.

I hope my daughter remembers that day. It was certainly special to me. I admit that I nearly filled the memory card on my phone with pictures, snapping every few seconds as the moon worked its way across the sun. I ended up deleting most of them, but I was happy to catch some really great shots that I will bore you with if we ever meet (!)

As much as I was blown away with the experience, I was equally amazed at the pinpoint accuracy with which the incredible astronomers around the globe had predicted the timing of the event. Like down to seconds. I understand that these same scientists can land an orbiter on the moon (yes, that actually happened) and communicate with a space probe that has left our solar system (Voyager), but when you see the calculations unfolding in front of you with laser precision it feels like a perfectly executed symphony.

My take on the whole thing? It felt like an honor to witness totality. It may sound corny, but if you know you know. A once in a lifetime experience for me? I hope not. You may just find yourself sitting on a plane next to me on the way to Iceland in a couple years.

Until next time, stay well!