As I mentioned, I went to see the eclipse.  My brother had said months ago that this was an experience we would never forget, a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and worth all the driving it would entail.  So we drove.  It was my sister and brother-in-law and me.  We broke the trip in Roanoke, VA with a memorable dinner at the Three Little Pigs Barbecue, a restaurant in a strip mall that managed to nail it on food, service, ambiance, location, and regionality.

The next day we drove along the Blue Ridge Parkway to Asheville, NC.  Beckham, the scruffy little rescue dog, found that the bbq had not entirely agreed with him.  We gave thanks for the beautiful cool mountain weather and rolled down the windows.

Arrival in Asheville and off to Biltmore, a Vanderbilt mansion on an unimaginable scale.  Go there and see Frederick Law Olmstead’s work as he could only imagine it– the trees are now what he planned they would be.  I wish I could bring him to life for one day to show him in its mature form what he dreamed and created.

Then a dilemma– do we chance traffic and congestion to go to the glider port in Benton TN to see our brother and meet up with old friends who were already there?  Or should we heed the warnings of quadrillions of cars on the road and just hop south a few miles?  We went for it, along the Nantahala river and some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen, to arrive at the Chilhowee Gliderport.  This was what it looked like:

Glider port

(That’s my sister in white, walking Beckham.  He feels a lot better now).

People were parked all along those trees there– maybe 300 or so?  And here was some pre-game celebration:

Corona tailgate

Coronas, to honor what we hoped to see, from a dear old friend (none for Beckham).

Then we waited.  We told stories and jokes and passed the time with friendship.

Telling stories

 

Then a bite out of the sun, then a bigger bite. We kept on looking!

Look up

K looks up

Then a lot of it was covered and the world looked odd– not quite twilight, but not normal either, as if it were blowing up a storm but the leaves were the right side up and no cool wind.  Then most of the sun covered.  Nearing totality, it looked like a movie that was meant to look like nighttime but it was really filmed in the day and put through some kind of filter that was fooling nobody.  Then, Then.  .  . Then!  The glasses on, the glasses off, and “Oh my God” on a loop– ohmigodohmigodohmigod.  The “diamond ring”, the darkness, the corona like an image of the Star of Bethlehem, a sense of cool, or was it chills?  I wanted to be alone so I could just cry and everyone around experiencing the same.  “Bailey”s Beads”– a pink jewel at 5:00 on the rim, pulsing.  .  .  Then the whole thing repeated on the other side.

daytime darkness

There’s no point in trying to sum it up.  It’s unsummable, numinous, ennobling.

Nature is the first and best teacher.  She knows that if you inspire awe, the rest will follow, as the night the day.

And when you’ve learned it, there you are with one another, closer than you were before.

all of us

Closer with family, when your brother was the one who told you to go and your sister who traveled all the miles with you.

3 siblings

Closer with the sweet family who took the photos and made it better by being there.

sweet fam

Closer with the world and all that’s in it and around it, including the sun, which I’ll never look at quite the same way again.

Would it be possible to imagine bringing awe into the classroom?  To re-envision our work as teachers as inspiring awe and fostering connection among seekers?

Who knows?  All I know is that I saw the moon pass across the sun and darkness fall in the afternoon.  And it made life better.