"I would like to have seen Montana."
That's a quote from the movie "The Hunt for Red October" based on a novel by Tom Clancy. In it, the executive officer of a Soviet missile submarine, who intends to defect to the United States with his captain, has grandiose plans about living in Montana and raising rabbits. Unfortunately, late in the movie the XO gets shot in the chest, and his final words express his regret at not having been able to see the place he expected would be his new home.
This will sound extraordinarily self-absorbed, but in a way I know how he felt.
On April 8, Tammy and I took our son, daughter-in-law and their five daughters to a place called Bogg Springs, a Baptist summer camp nestled in the Ouachita Mountains 70 miles south of Fort Smith. By my calculations, the place where I used to spend my summers as a camp worker, and later taking kids from various churches, was pretty close to the center line of the path of totality for the coming eclipse that day. The campground was secluded and quiet, and featured wide-open fields for viewing an event I had never seen in 67 years of living. I had it all figured out. It was perfect.
Except ...
Two hours before the event, a county-sized blob of cloud cover settled over the area and mysteriously stayed until an hour after the event when clear blue skies returned. We were teased by short breaks in the clouds -- usually lasting around 30 seconds -- but for the most part saw nothing but dark, gray murk.
I will admit the moment of totality -- even under the clouds -- was impressive. As my son counted down the seconds to total coverage, it was as if a giant dimmer switch was slowly being turned off. And then darkness, as dark as a moonless night. Four minutes later, I could see light coming from the southwest and almost instantaneously the light coming through the clouds was of the same intensity it had been four minutes before. It was incredible.
But I have still not seen the sun behind the moon during the totality of a solar eclipse.
And such is life. Sometimes our plans, in spite of the best intentions, strategies and time we invest in them, come to sad ends. Sometimes it rains on an outdoor wedding in June. Sometimes a baseball game gets rained out after you've spent hundreds of dollars on tickets and hot dogs for your family. Sometimes you -- or your child -- get sick on the day of a concert you've been waiting years to attend. None of these things can be controlled, but that knowledge doesn't mitigate the anger and frustration you feel when having to deal with them.
And stuff like that happens all the time. In a perfect world, it wouldn't. But we don't live in a perfect world, so a good strategy in dealing with the frustration of plans that go awry is to realize that sometimes they will. So when they do, take a deep breath and be thankful for the countless things in your life that do go right. Odds are they will far outweigh the difficulties you've experienced. I have definitely found that to be true in my life.
Still, I would like to have seen an eclipse.
Doug Chastain is a retired teacher and large-vehicle transportation specialist for the Siloam Springs School District. (OK, he drives a bus.) He is also a grass maintenance technician at Camp Siloam. (Yeah, he mows the lawn.) You can contact him at [email protected].