underwhelmed

This morning, I actually hear some on-air news correspondent ask Bonnie Tyler, "Can you explain the difference between a total eclipse of the sun and a total eclipse of the heart?" 

Is that really the best question he can conjure up?

For days now, the media has focused on the total eclipse of the sun. It's a major event; the last one was in1979, and the next one won't be until 2024. 

Details of where the eclipse will be and when have been dominating the news for weeks (a nice reprise from the daily deluge of upsettling Trump headlines).



Here in North Falmouth, coverage won't be total. About 65% of the sun will be blocked by the moon. In other words, it'll just look cloudy.

I get to the beach around noon, and it's still pretty empty. But by one, my mom and some of her friends have started to arrive. 

Phyllis, my mom, Hope, Davida

The group eventually expands to about 15 people.

Some have bought the officially sanctioned glasses, and others have created their own viewing devices.

Around 1:30 someone shouts, "It's starting." And just as quickly someone else yells, "Don't look up or you can go blind."

We share the two sets of viewing glasses and see what looks like a bright yellow-orange sliver. It's pretty cool. 

Harrison

The home-made devices don't work nearly as well.

Every ten minutes or so we take turns using the regulated glasses to watch as the moon passes over the sun. "Don't look too long though. It can hurt your eyes." I'm not sure if this is true, but I'm not taking any chances.

One person doesn't want to look at all for fear that the glasses may fail her and she'll lose her sight.

Someone else warns, "Put your hat on." This advice I ignore since I don't recall anywhere reading that an eclipse can cause harm to an un-hatted head.