Seeing total eclipse

 

Hayter article for April 14, 2024

 

“Took a little trip”

Kay and I haven’t been out much for the past few years, so we decided to rent a B and B somewhere along the path of the total eclipse. We’d never seen a total eclipse. The closest we’ve come is an 86 percent eclipse that we saw while staying five months in Grandview, Washington, back in 2017.

I wrote 20 articles from that locale. I don’t have time to find the article about the fun we had with our relatives while watching the 86 Percenter. During our total solar eclipse experience, it was just Kay, the neighbor’s barking dog, and me. Not as jubilant as our Washington experience, but we can die happy after seeing a total eclipse.

The next eclipse in Texas will be in 2048. If I’m still alive, I’ll be 99 years old, and in no mood to to drive 579 miles to Follet, Texas to see the thing. Follet is a town on the eastern tip of the Texas Panhandle. God chose it to be the only part of Texas where the 2048 eclipse will be seen. Follet has a population of 349 and continues to drop. In 2048, I doubt they’ll have a bed and breakfast. They may not even have a population.

Oh, and the 2048 total eclipse will be annular, not solar. A total solar eclipse occurs when the moon’s revolution is closest to the Earth. No, I had no idea that the moon’s orbit varied, so work with me here. When the moon is closest to us, it looks bigger, and will totally block out the sun. An annular eclipse occurs when the moon is furthest from the Earth, which makes it look smaller when viewed from our viewpoint.

 When the moon is close to us, it can cover all of the light from the sun. That’s called a total Solar Eclipse. When it’s farthest away, it looks smaller making it impossible for it to totally cover the sun’s light. Instead, there will be light escaping when the moon is perfectly centered with the sun.

Which makes you wonder, “Who gives a rat’s rump?” I’ll tell you who -- a 99-year-old man will not drive 579 miles to a ghost town to see an annular eclipse. Entirely too much light.

            No doubt about it, Kay and I saw a total SOLAR eclipse. It would’ve looked so much better had we stayed home and watched it on TV, however, I much prefer being able to brag about the experience.

I don’t know how many millions of people viewed Monday’s total solar eclipse. Nor do I care.  The important thing is -- I saw it. So, if Virginia ever says something like, “Did you think to return my pie pan?”  I can reply, “No! But, you can bet your pie pan that I did see a total solar eclipse!

Kay and I viewed the eclipse in the backyard of a small Bed and Breakfast house. No one within yelling or seeing distance was outside at the time. Unfortunately, the neighbor’s dog went haywire as soon as it started darkening. He could not be calmed down, either. His yelps developed a particular rhythm like, “Oh, no! Oh, no! “Oh, no!”

At this time, I feel it necessary to tell you to wear your eclipse glasses through an entire solar eclipse. I took mine off shortly before the total eclipse part because I thought it safe. Turns out, it was. Right up until the moment of the big flash. Kay later told me that it was the “diamond ring effect” that appeared immediately before and after the totality of a solar eclipse.. something perhaps she should’ve mentioned before the big flash.

By the time the moon became a total shield, I began to hear the Neekerbreekers. I thought those big cricket creatures that J.R.R. Tolkien wrote about were pure fable. Well, they might be up until the time a total solar eclipse occurs. At that moment they went bonkers. Roosters, too. They thought they were near the edge of morning again.

A couple of things that are hardly worth mentioning, I’m going to go ahead and mention. The house we were staying in had two bedrooms. Both were upstairs across from one another. Both had a king-size bed. Each room was a small square with no closet. The difference between the rooms was in the color of the walls. One was dark, the other less so. Both were upstairs, and the upstairs had no bathroom. Unlike normal people, I make at least one trip to the restroom on any given night. Carrying a flashlight down a steep staircase with shallow steps and a higher last step is unnerving even for a surefooted person like myself. A person with a need to go, balancing himself while stepping slowly down the stairs, would be beyond the capabilities of a normal human being. That information was not necessary, but I felt it relevant.    

Right now, I shall venture into the kitchen to take advantage of the many leftovers we brought back from our trip. We didn’t know what we would feel like eating, so we brought along a big variety. It was my idea and totally unnecessary… as was the annular eclipse thing. I didn’t even know the moon’s orbit varied. – I’ve learned so much during my older days. 

 

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hayter.mark@gmail.com

The best forgotten days of youth

 

Hayter article for April 7, 2024

“Heartaches by the dozen, troubles by the score…”

 Do you wanna know how many arguments I’ve had during my lifetime? I don’t either, but I can tell you that I wasn’t proud of how any of them came out. On six different occasions did I ever utter the words, “I don’t care what people think of me.” Each time I said it was a lie. I don’t like to upset people, nor do I like to get upset.

Over the last 44 years, I’ve written several articles about argumentative moments I’ve had. I’m going to share two or three earlier ones now, in the hope it will get my mind off one incident that took place last week with a neighbor.

Instead, I’m starting with an incident that happened 47 years ago. It was my first parent conference during my first year of teaching. When I entered the office, the counselor introduced me to the mother of one of my students who was heck on wheels. The lady said, “Mr. Hayter, my daughter will be much nicer if you just compliment her every once in a while.”  I said, “Ma'am, I would, if she ever did anything worth complimenting.”

Yes, that was stupid. It won me a trip to the principal’s office the next day. When I showed up, Mr. Weise, the greatest principal on the planet, said, “Uh, Mark, I know it’s not easy talking to some parents, but next time, you might want to show a little more understanding. I’m not asking you to lie, just use a little more tact. Okay?”

Mr. Weise, in only two sentences, demonstrated to me the proper way to speak to a parent. If he had spoken to me, in the same tone I used with that mom, I would’ve been upset. It was during my first year at McCullough High, that I caught onto the fact that Bobby Weise was a wise and gentle giant. I became a better teacher because of him.

 

When I was a kid, there were a lot of incidents that I handled poorly. Here are a couple that I’ve mentioned before. One occurred when Dennis and our friends were playing around in an area we called the Gator Swamps. The place was given the name after one of the gang found a baby alligator in the gulley. After that episode, the gully became the “Gator Swamp”. It probably kept the name up to the time the area became a concrete jungle of apartments.

But, forget that part. A group of kids of whom I was one, were in the Gator Swamp when for no reason Dennis began taunting me, calling me names, and hitting me. He was trying to get me to chase him. He was faster than every kid out there, so I did my best to ignore him. But he wouldn’t let up, so I went after him. Across the field and through the gully we ran. At times Dennis ran backward while laughing at me.

My big brother was my best friend, but, too often, he lost sight of that when others were around. Eventually, we were out of the Gator Swamp and ended up running down the road close to our house. I was winded and running slow enough to spy a short and narrow board on the road. I picked it up, and when I did, Dennis stopped and kept laughing at me. That’s when I threw the board at him. I didn’t come close to hitting him, but Dennis immediately lost his laugh and leered at me. That’s when I yelled, “I wish that had cut your head off!” 

All of our friends were watching me when it happened. I didn’t tell Mom or Dad about trying to kill their son, and Dennis didn’t tell them about making a fool out of me. Things never got that bad between us again. I assume we both grew up a bit that day.

          Finally, there was one particular time when I was a lousy brother to my kid sister, Jill. She had been playing with the water hose in the backyard of our home on Camille Street. Eventually, Mom came out and told her to turn off the hose and quit messing up the yard.

          I had been in the house at the time and had completely missed out on the hose incident. When I came out of the backdoor, I noticed a mud puddle and started stomping around in it. Jill warned me about Mom getting after her for playing around with the water hose. Being the older brother, I told Jill that we should drag the hose to another part of the yard and mud it up. She trusted me enough to follow my lead.

          When Mom came outside and yelled, “Okay, which one of you started this mess?” Jill didn’t say anything, so I said, “Jill did it!”  So Mom dragged Jill into the house for a spanking. Eventually, Jill came outside sobbing. I said, “Why didn’t you tell on me? We could’ve gone back and forth arguing, and maybe Mom would just let it go!”

That’s when Jill did the worst thing she could’ve done. She just wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and walked away. She broke my heart. I pulled a “Dennis” on my little sister. The thought has stayed with me ever since. 

Those were merely three argumentative issues during my early days. I’ve got a bunch more from my 53 years of marriage.  Kay and I never raise our voices. The vast majority of the arguments were generated by me. I say that to say this. There is no way on God’s green earth that I care to dig up any of those moments again. It’s enough to say that I have learned a lot from that foxy lady.

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hayter.mark@gmail.com