3:09 p.m. EDT: Darkened skies during the window of totality here in Indy.
First things first: no, we didn’t catch any super awesome photos of the total eclipse itself looking like a cosmic coffee ring or the old Armageddon teaser poster. 600 million Instagram users got you covered. You did check with them first, right?
Dateline: Monday, April 4, 2024 — We were thrilled to learn our li’l hometown of Indianapolis would be in the path of totality for today’s solar eclipse, which meant we’d have the opportunity to witness an extremely rare astronomical phenomenon without leaving our front yard. Those are the best kinds of phenomena. Sure, we could’ve left the house. Any number of local businesses threw parties for the occasion — the 500 Motor Speedway, the art museum, the upscale restaurant atop my workplace, and so on. Down in Bloomington, IU threw a big party with special guests William Shatner, Janelle Monae, and probably more. We decided to keep our trappings simple. Also, we had to work. Anne, in fact, had to get back to work after the big moment passed.
Last Tuesday: my employer gave all employees an eclipse preparedness kit. The Moon Pie didn’t last all the way till today.
For Indy the main event was scheduled to begin at 1:50. By 2:00 I was so engrossed in wrapping up the final hours of my WFH shift that I thought the darkening through our kitchen window was a flock of killjoy thunderstorms moving in rather than our feature presentation. We’d been worried for weeks that rain or even really thick clouds might ruin this entire occasion. Despite yesterday’s uneven results, thankfully the weather was lovely and cooperative.
2:00 pm: Aiming my camera at the sun through my eclipse glasses does not in fact produce a million-dollar shot. They just turned the sun purple.
As you can imagine, concentrating on work was a challenge as Heaven and Earth arranged themselves into position to show off for us puny mortals. Nevertheless, I persisted, kindasorta.
2:30 pm: My next failed attempt through the glasses was my purplest.
We had our meager gear ready, at least. In addition to my free eclipse glasses from work, Anne had found plenty more at Kroger for two bucks a pair. I can only imagine what sort of ripoff scam options we missed online.
2:45 pm: Darkness descended upon our suburb as if the Independence Day armada had arrived.
I clocked out promptly for the day at 3:00. Anne took her last 15-minute break for the day at 2:55. Totality in Indianapolis would commence at 3:06 and last less than four minutes. Our timing was perfect. The eclipse was weird and daunting and dazzling and extraordinary and wild. At the exact moment of totality, we could hear cheering coming from everywhere as neighborhood humankind experienced the all-too-uncommon joy of A Shared Moment. I can’t vouch for the animals.
3:03 p.m.: Three minutes before totality. Anne decided to go full rube with a souvenir T-shirt.
3:04 pm: Two minutes to totality, my green shirt looked odd.
3:07 pm: Totality achieved if not quite photogenically so. All the nighttime sensors on everyone’s garage lights kicked on.
Around 3:10 or so, a red dot appeared on the southwest edge of the sun’s corona, piercing through the cool eclipse overhead. The moon retreated, the world kept turning, the sun moved on and so did we. I’ve barely looked at social media yet to make sure conspiracy theorists are being shamed back into their burrows.
So no, our photos aren’t the award-winning magazine-cover variety. Mostly we were happy to settle for witnessing it with our eyes rather than through our phones. Sometimes cool natural imagery burns into our memories more deeply that way…and thankfully not our retinae.
Related note: we’re happy to report the glasses did their job. We have the option of either holding onto them for posterity, or someone in my company knows an organization that’s accepting donations to send used eclipse glasses to South America for when the Solar Eclipse World Tour heads down there later this fall. No word yet as to whether Shatner will be available for that gig.