No fun in the sun here

by brett adkison leader editor

Over the next year, Missourians will learn of the Great American Eclipse that’ll sweep our southeastern corner on the afternoon of Monday, April 8, 2024. For just over four minutes, the moon will dot out the sun and the land will be thrown into complete darkness. Cities like Poplar Bluff and Cape Girardeau will be inundated with spectators who want the best and longest view.

Bah humbug.

This all might sound familiar, and with good reason. Back in 2017, Clinton County found itself in the path of its own total solar eclipse. It was historic. Visitors flooded into the county for the once... uh... twice-in-a-lifetime moment. Hundreds of residents spent months and years preparing for the event.

I had been waiting almost a decade for that eclipse.

In 2009, I was with the former Rural Reporter newspaper in Lathrop when an eclipse expert from Iowa came to town with a good-natured warning: a total eclipse was just eight years away, Lathrop was on the exclusive “path of totality,” and once word got out, the town would be a hotspot for those wanting to experience the eclipse to the fullest.

At that age, eight years was an eternity to wait, but I kept it in the back of my mind and anticipated the magic of the stellar light show – the thrill of the moon moving into position, a festive atmosphere enveloping our community, the 360-degree sunset, white flares of light dancing behind a massive black ball in the sky.

The only thing that could derail the day would be clouds. So why worry? The eclipse was on August 21, and historically, the least cloudy day of the year in Kansas City in August 26. How perfect.

You know what happens next.

I was in the field just north of the Hungry Mule when it became apparent the clouds wouldn’t break for totality. Not wanting to give up, I slammed down the pedal of my golf cart (which let out a dusty coughing noise) and sped down Valley Street in hopes of getting further south. Maybe there would be a hole? Likely not, but I had to try.

When totality started, I had made it only to Lover’s Lane (or at least that’s what we called it when we were kids on bikes and the street was gravel and none of us knew any actual lovers). It went dark. The world became calm. Animals, thinking it was night, started their bedding routines. So I sat there in the middle of the road, one part of me enjoying the moment and another remembering some parable about God laughing at your plans.

Many people around here were clouded out. Some weren’t. I’m still a tad bitter. It’s fine.

But now, to have another total solar eclipse coming through Missouri just seven years later, it feels like bumping into an old flame at the grocery store... and meeting her tall, tan doctor of a fiancé.

So I’ll smile and pretend to be happy for the boot heel. May your totality be long and cloudless. Just don’t expect to see my name on the guestbook. I’ll dust off my old eclipse glasses, poor a glass of Shatto milk, put on “Friends in Low Places,” and watch this one from my back deck.