First, there was breakfast at a Cracker Barrel, which I experienced as the most integrated place I have ever eaten. Cheerful mood.  Then on and on and on to our destination,  Lake Loramie State Park,  Ohio,  for the eclipse.  We arrived midday, and the park was filled to overflowing.  We were driving by parked cars slowly, and a good fellow stopped us and asked if we needed a place to park.  Seems one was hidden behind his truck.  Then we settled down, with Uri the chihuahua, two folding chairs, a pillow, an umbrella and a bag of nibbles by the shore.  There was a mixed party near us, and apparently he had recorded apt songs for the occasion, which he shared with nearbys.  One that my daughter recognized was Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire.”

Someone from the party next to us took our photo in goggles, and when the eclipse was accomplished you could hear some people clapping and others cheering.  We were sitting right by the waterfront with a lovely view of daylight and “moonlight.”  Two people had shoved off in kyacks for the viewing. The photo of the eclipse we took turned out to have the corona, but where it was all black it photographed white (see photo).  When it was over masses of people in cars headed for the highways.  We lingered to shorten our escape and when it was time to go two women from the party next door appeared and helped pack up the car, unasked, making it a lovely, friendly occasion.

Then back on the highway awhile and my daughter pulled into the beginning of a quarter mile driveway which ran up to a large farmhouse in the middle of fields, to check her GPS.  No sooner than we had stopped at  the beginning of the driveway than an older model van chug a lugged up behind us. The driver was out of gas, and we were blocked in.  Momentarily we considered giving him a ride up to a gas station on the interstate, with some hesitation. I learned later that my daughter had taken a snapshot of his license plate, “just in case.”  We were torn between trusting him and giving him a ride versus not being humanitarian.  Then we spied some figures up the long driveway by the house and decided to drive down the long driveway and see if any gas was available for the stranded man, who truth be told was not very verbal or personable.  I tried without luck to see if I could imagine him attacking us, without resolve.

Turns out the farm folks were a nice family and the older male left on foot to carry what gas he had in a can. It was a long walk. Turns out he didn’t have quite a gallon of gas and later reported that the driver said he only got 10 miles to a gallon, but it was enough for him to move along.  After having a nice chat with the farm folk, their litle girl and her dog, we headed on towards the interstate, fearing we would come across him again, newly out of gas.  A ways down the road my daughter said, “There he is. What should I do?”

I was clearer in my decision now.  “Drive on by,” I said, figuring that we had risen to the occasion once and would let someone else have their turn at being the good samaritan, so we didn’t turn our heads and tootled on towards home, hours away.

The final interaction with persons that day was with one crazy kid who passed in and out of post-eclipse traffic on the interstate at–my daughter agrees–at least 100 miles an hour.  She observed that when he was going to turn right into another lane of traffic he threw out his right leg, and vice versa when he was roaring into the left lane.  Once again we dreaded seeing traces of him dead or alive, in police custody or in a bloody mess.  We never caught up with him–of course not, we weren’t going 100 miles an hour!  My daughter said that motorcycles going 100 miles an hour are not uncommon in Atlanta.  They are on the smaller motorcycle scale for flexibility and speed, I suppose.

______________________

HERE COMES THE SUN*

Waiting by the shores of Lake

Loramie in Ohio

for the total eclipse to cool

the land and gift the children

with a special memory.

Cameras on tripods stand

at attention and waiting.

Daughter beside me sunbathing

and the hands of the wrist watch

move forward as does the moon.

*Mis-named; should be titled “Here Comes the Moon.”