There was a total eclipse today. Oh not here. That was 1999, in a summer in which everything was young and new. No, this one arched its way across North America delighting everyone from Mexico to Niagara Falls.
The UK, even though we wouldn’t have seen it anyway, still decided to plump for 100% cloud cover. That’s just what we do of course - comets, meteor showers, solar eclipses; somewhere in the Magna Carta, we must have signed over our right to view them, and instead be blanketed by poorly timed clouds. Thanks a bundle, John Lackland.
Anyway. I watched it online. Do you know, the Americans actually whooped and cheered it. The moon moved precisely between the Earth and the Sun for a moment, and the Americans went crazy for it! I couldn’t help wonder what that response meant. Would they cheer anything? Astronomically it’s no different to a cloud drifting in front of Venus, or the *ahem* Big Dipper rotating to look like a question mark. Yet there they were, hollering as though Team USA had just slam dunked a sitter in the Olympic basketball final.
It is quite cool though. The moon just pops perfectly into position and the corona bursts into a ring behind it. It’s weird and wonderful and kind of awesome in a way. Perhaps I’m more predisposed to sombre reflection on it than applauding planetary bodies like they’re guests on Oprah or something. I think it’s kind of cool, but it really is just a random alignment.
Ah. Of course. It’s possible that the cheerleaders over there have a different view. Perhaps it was more about their blessed land being chosen for greatness. Actually, that wouldn’t surprise me. I think that thought has somehow made its way into culture, right along the dotted lines from the Puritans to the founding fathers to the Bible Belt to the MAGA fanatics. Forgive me if that’s you by the way. You carry on cheering on the sun.
Just remember that over here, we signed the Magna Carta.
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