Shade on the Solar System
It has recently come to my attention that the cosmos had a rather exclusive guest list for its star-studded (or rather, moon-studded) event, the total solar eclipse, that concluded today, April 8, 2024, organized by our beloved sun. A mere 31.6 million Americans were invited to bask in the shadowy glory of this year’s astronomical soirée — an event, looking back, was more VIP than Coachella.
Now, there has been quite the to-do about inclusivity and DEI these days. ….Shh!! Don’t tell Elon Musk!!…
We’re striving for it in our workplaces, in our social circles, and even in our streaming service algorithms. But when we gaze upwards — Aha! Suddenly, it’s a velvet rope affair where only a sliver of the population of our country, only 10% to be precise, got to don the cool shades and gaze upon the dynamics of sun-blocking moon. I was sort of kind of on the invitee list and I got to admit, it was pretty damn cool.
Here is a photo I took on my iPhone:
I digress.
Back to my topic. And here is why I started writing about this in this post. You know the next total solar eclipse passing through the USA would be in 2044?
And would you believe it? The next total solar eclipse, a prima donna that graces us with its presence once every bushel of blue moons, is planning an encore in August 2044 (August 23 to be precise) and it would have an even more selective invitee list? This time, its exclusive path would sweep through the wild plains of — you guessed it — Montana, South Dakota, and North Dakota. It’s like the eclipse won our nation’s least populated states at a charity auction.
These states, known for their vast and uncomplaining fields of wheat, have been chosen to witness day turning into night, sans most human observers. One could argue, “Nature knows best,” but I think the Holy Trinity of Cosmos — Sun, Moon, and Mother Earth, are underestimating humans’ penchant for inclusivity — and our knack for committees.
We need a game plan. A stratagem. Right now.
We have got only 20 more years. We can’t just sit back and accept that only bisons and tumbleweeds get front row tickets to moon’s big cover-up bash. No, it’s high time we formed an Eclipse Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (E-DEI) committee. Its mission? To ensure that at least 50% of Americans are in the path of totality. Are you with me?
But how do we influence the unyielding mechanics of the universe? Perhaps we could all collectively lean to one side. Or maybe host nationwide BBQ cookouts on the opposite side to sway the earth a smidge with the combined power of charbroiled persuasion. Scientists would be invited, of course, flipping burgers and recalculating trajectories between sips of Arnold Palmers.
I have many such ideas. And I am sure you do too.
Or, if we are thinking big — really big — like I do — we could make this an interstellar lobbying effort. Petition the powers that be to give us a celestial shindig that includes everybody. Would a change.org petition work with the right number of signatures? I don’t know. Granted, we’ve got over twenty years to sort it out, but have you heard that space bureaucracy is worse than the government bureaucracy? So, it may be in our best interests to start drafting those letters to the editor of the universe now.
We could also take a more direct approach.
Education. Provided certain education-allergic states get on board with the plan. Invest in nationwide astronomically accurate Frisbees — that way, every picnic becomes a chance to understand the complex dance of our solar system, and why exactly North Dakota needs to share the astronomical wealth.
When all is said and done, it is clear as daylight (or, perhaps, as clear as a total eclipse) that we stand before a unique opportunity to draw a line in the universe’s sandy beach. A chance to tell our and moon’s orbital dynamics that here on planet earth, especially here in the United States of America, everyone should get a turn to marvel at the sun taking a time-out and the moon basking on sun’s glory.
And so, dear readers, while most of us await our personal invitation to the Moon’s Shade Parade in 2044, I urge you: Keep your eyes skyward, your eclipse glasses handy, and your nomination papers filled at the ready for the committees we will be forming soon.
We sure have got some interstellar scripting to rewrite —
For the people, by the people, and under the occasional watchful eye of the sun, moon, and gravity.
