Total Darkness

Newsletter 2024-04-11

School was canceled, and for once it wasn’t due to something minor like a snow storm or a global pandemic. It was because of the sun—or, rather, the lack thereof. For last Monday’s solar eclipse, our part of Indiana was in the path of totality for the first time since 1215. That’s a year, not a time. For context, that’s also when the Magna Carta was signed, so it was a banner date for planet Earth. Hundreds of thousands of outsiders were expected to cram into our suburb and the surrounding area, making travel by school bus all but impossible. Also, teachers didn’t want to make kids miss an event that hadn’t happened here since the Mongol conquest of Jin China. Man, 1215 was a busy time. Then again, maybe officials were just worried about liability. They didn’t want anyone experiencing eclipse-related blindness on school property. It’s cheaper if kids hurt themselves at home.

My wife Lola and I made the most of it. We both used a vacation day to enjoy the celestial event. The total part of the total eclipse would only last about three minutes, which left us with a lot of day to kill. Naturally, we filled it with booze and board games. We invited over our friends, Peter and Delilah, who also burned their precious vacation hours for the occasion. The next eclipse won’t be visible here until 2044. No one can stay friends with me for that long, so it made sense to make the most of our eclipse party now before we all hate each other. Lola and I planned to start our day early, but Peter and Delilah beat us to the punch. Thanks to quick service in the drive through at the doughnut shop, they arrived at our house fifteen minutes early. They texted me while I was still at the gym. I told them to go right in. I didn’t bother to tell Lola or anyone else in the house. When my eleven-year-old, Mae, walked downstairs, she was shocked to find them already in place. Peter shrugged. “We live here now,” he said.

Mae didn’t argue. She didn’t have time. She was late for her orthodontist appointment. The sun might take an occasional day off, but the dental industrial complex never sleeps. I screeched to a halt in front of the house. There was no need for me to rush back. Mae still wasn’t ready. A minute later, she finally ran out of the house barefoot with her socks and shoes in her hands. I told her well in advance about her orthodontist appointment, just like I told her Peter and Delilah were coming over. She didn’t hear me either time. If a parent speaks but nobody listens, do they make a sound? Based on how my throat feels, yes. I’m going hoarse from repeating myself. 

With Mae’s appointment taken care of, I focused on Gloomhaven. I wanted to make the game as fun as possible because I wasn’t optimistic about the weather. What tiny, isolated cloud wouldn’t love the chance to ruin a once-in-a-lifetime event and become the center of attention by shifting into exactly the wrong spot? We made it halfway through one scenario before it was time for lunch. I stepped away to make grilled cheese while everyone else continued playing. My task was more fraught than any mission in the game. I have a complicated history with grilled cheese. It’s a recipe that only comes with three ingredients—bread, cheese, and butter—yet I’ve managed to apply all three in the wrong quantities and locations, leading to the most vicious criticisms of my adult life. As someone who regularly puts out content in front of a large internet audience, that’s saying something. The day I posted a picture of my kids in puffy coats was tame by comparison. In the worst incident, when Lola was heavily pregnant, I put the butter on the inside of the bread rather than the outside. That’s the closest we’ve ever come to divorce. Monday, my hands shook like I was defusing a bomb as I flipped each sandwich. Somehow, they came out okay. The kids devoured them like they were Pixy Stix mixed with meth. I hardly ever make grilled cheese, so when I do, my children treat it like a rare delicacy. The adults ate their sandwiches distractedly and without comment, which is the best I could hope for. I won’t be attempting that again until the next eclipse.