It’s getting dark, let’s throw a party
In the Light
There were no alien space ships swarming from behind Monday’s eclipse.
The zombie apocalypse didn’t happen.
Vampires do not rule the planet.
Donald Trump looked at the sun without eclipse glasses, and that wasn’t even the dumbest thing our President did during the last week.
I’ll give Trump credit though — he just offered a glance skyward. I guess he was getting his bearings on where to look once he put on his eclipse glasses.
And seriously, who can blame him for that?
You couldn’t see anything else with those things on. It was like looking at “dark.”
And Trump, like everyone else in America who put on those glasses — looked like a dork.
Everyone did.
I mean, those glasses are ugly.
Not the ones I had though. Mine had yellow “sun stripes.”
They were cool.
NASA gained tons of scientific material to study, like … The moon really is round.
Stuff like that.
Oh, I’m sure they got all sorts of stuff to ponder.
Those NASA people sure do like science-like stuff ... eclipses, aliens, people looking dorky in paper eyewear.
Prior to eclipse day, area teachers showed how versatile they are — tying in eclipse science, fun, and excitement into the daily, mandated routine.
Just shows that if you give a good educator a little leeway, they too, can shine (get it? Shine … Sun shine?).
Sweetwater didn’t get the 50,000 people the city was expecting. People selling parking spaces for $40 in the small city were disappointed in the lack of easy money.
And after dropping their prices claimed to any and all that they weren’t trying to gouge visitor’s wallets.
And they said it with a straight face and conviction in their voices.
But East Tennesseans had a chance to shine Monday (get it? Shine … Sun shine?).
And we did.
We greeted out-of-staters wanting to see this once-in-a-lifetime event like friends and family members.
We welcomed them, listened to their stories about their travels, and bid them a safe trip home.
Sure, it got dark, but East Tennessee really did shine.
The cicadas, roosters, owls, bats and other nocturnal-type creatures were a little confused.
It all worked, though.
There was tons of really good music being played, too.
A lot of songs with “sun” and “moon,” in the title and even the theme from “2001 A Space Odyssey.
Even something as hokey as “You Are My Sunshine …” seemed really cool Monday.
It was a day for spontaneous celebrations and a lot of people getting outside and doing something we don’t do much of anymore … Talking with neighbors.
An eclipse … Go figure.
Of course there were about a million people using social media posting selfies of themselves wearing those goofy glasses.
Wow. How ... Original.
I think NASA wants to study them as well.
Either they don’t have neighbors, are stuck up, or have body odor and no one would stand and talk with them.
We were all in a party mood.
Well, not everyone.
There were those who tried to dampen the excitement before it even started.
Mean-spirited types.
Reports started surfacing over the weekend about how much America would loose in productivity because of the solar eclipse.
Seriously?
These same people think Bob Cratchit should’ve worked on Christmas Day and that Scrooge was an exemplary boss.
I wonder if there are three spirits of eclipse day?
“I am the Spirit of Eclipses Yet to Pass. You can’t see me because your eclipse glasses didn’t have sun stripes on them during the last one so you didn’t wear them and now you’re blind.”
Something like that.
Fortunately we can learn from our mistakes of not making the best of Monday’s total eclipse. I mean we had something like 99 years to try to get the hang of celebrating it right.
We don’t have to wait as long for the next total eclipse, which is supposed to come around in 2024.
I just hope the aliens don’t figure out how to get their little space ships to come swarming from behind it by then.
And maybe someone will figure out how to make those eclipse glasses look cool.