November 3rd, a full eclipse of the sun will occur. Northern Uganda is judged to be the best places to witness this. 10s, maybe 100s of thousands, of watchers will be headed there. I will not be among them. Here is why. In the early ‘90s, there was an eclipse visible in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I was a photographer then, so I stacked 10, 15 light-blocking filters on a lens, put it on a camera, and watched the eclipse, directly. A short few hours later, I arrived home, to get the news that my dear wife Carol did not want to deliver over the phone. Severin, the to-be-born son of my sister Donna and her husband Scott, had been strangled in the womb, a week short of terminus, on his own umbilical cord. He was dead. But for a number of medical reasons, important to the subsequent births of Donna’s other dear, incredible children, he had to be “born” in the conventional way. It was horrific. But they did it, to save the lives of children they did not yet know. Scott and Donna, you are the most brave and self-sacrificing people I will ever know. So I will never look at another eclipse. I will not revel in a one of them. I will be simply primitive, and accept, or at least fear, that the darkening of the sun in the middle of the day is a stamp of evil upon the earth. Logic to me all you wish. My nephew is dead, never once able to draw a breath among us. I have had dreams of him. Tall, strong and muscled, red-haired like his father, a soul with both weight and overflowing kindness, a gentle touch. I believe I will meet him some day. But I will not witness the eclipse. Instead, I will retreat, pray for my soul, Severin’s, and those who love and mourn him still.
Posted on: Tue, 29 Oct 2013 17:24:51 +0000
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