In 2017, we went to a friend’s house for a party to watch the partial eclipse from their back yard just outside Urbana, Illinois. It was a great time! We had lots of good food and drinks and all put on our eclipse glasses to go outside and watch the moon gradually move across the sun. I think it was about 90 percent covered. It got a little darker outside, and we were able to see the crescent-shaped spots of light on the ground where the sunlight shone through the leaves on trees.
Ever since my big brother got to see a total eclipse up in Wisconsin one year when we were kids, I’d wanted to see those crescent-shaped lights on the ground. Curt was always good at sharing his experiences in such a way that I wanted to have them too, so I looked forward to the crescent shapes under the trees that April day in 2017.
That was about as spectacular as it got. It was more a day about sharing the experience with friends and doing a huge group selfie of us all in our eclipse glasses! We had fun.
Right away, the media started talking about the next eclipse, which would be at about the same time of year and follow a similar path across the United States. I told my husband Tony that no matter what was going on with us in 2024, we were going some place where we could see totality. The next total eclipse to come near this area won’t be for another 20 years. Neither of us might even be alive then, certainly not able to drive hours to see it, so 2024 would be our last chance for this once-in-a-lifetime event.
I put the event in my calendar in the back of my mind, and early in January of 2024 I started thinking actively about it. We could find a cabin at a state park in Indiana, or even a motel in southern Illinois. It would be great!
Then I started looking online. First of all, all rooms within driving distance of us were at least double in price – some triple or quadruple. I guess you can’t blame folks for wanting to capitalize on the event. Secondly, most were already booked.
We decided, since totality would only be an hour or so away, we’d pack a picnic lunch and set off in the morning, plenty early, to find a place to set up our chairs and watch the show in the sky. Anyplace would do – a little park in a small town in Indiana or Illinois, a parking lot at a Walmart in the path, the shoulder of a back road.
I was pretty sure all the restaurants would be filled, so I made egg salad sandwiches and we packed those, along with Cheezits, fruit, cookies, and cold drinks. Except for hopefully a bathroom stop sometime during the day, we would be entirely self-sufficient.
We set out at about 9:30 am. We got on I-57 and headed south. Our plan was to make it to Effingham if we could and then head east. Effingham itself would be in the path of totality so once we made it that far, we could stop anywhere. If the traffic on 57 got too congested before we got that far, we’d get off and take back roads as far south and east as we could.
Traffic on 57 was heavy, but kept moving right along. Sometimes we slowed down to 30 or 40 mph, but still kept moving. State troopers were positioned at intervals along the route, just to keep an eye on things, but there were no traffic incidents that we saw. There were several road construction sites along the way, but no workers present. I imagine they decided to halt construction for the day. Electronic signs announced All Lanes Open at each site.
At Effingham, only about 70 miles south of Champaign, we got off the highway and headed east. A little (but not TOO little) town called Newton was about 12 miles east of Effingham. We headed for that. I opened Google Maps on my phone and found a little park in the town. Peterson Park.
It was a lovely little town park. Even had picnic tables and, I think, tennis courts. They had public bathrooms but they weren’t open for the season yet. (Too bad they couldn’t have opened them just for the day, but . . . small town budgets . . .) We set up our chairs in a nice grassy spot just off the parking lot, close to a playground area. Families were beginning to gather in the park and kids were enjoying the playground.
We broke out our sandwiches and snacks a little after noon, just before the first sign of the eclipse began – that first arc of black blocking out the lower right of the sun’s disc.
Just as we finished eating, and elderly gentleman (he was probably our age!) set up his chair beside us and introduced himself. Fred, from Bloomington. He’d come the same way we did. He said 74 from Bloomington to Champaign was worse traffic-wise than 57, but he got off the highway further north and took back roads the rest of the way.
We chatted with Fred throughout the event. He and his wife had traveled extensively all over the world, even to Africa and Russia. I think their most recent trip was to Costa Rica. Not sure why his wife wasn’t with him, but I think she had health problems. We kept putting on our glasses to check the progress of the eclipse. One fourth covered! Halfway! Wow, it looks like only a tenth of the sun is visible! It looked like an upside down lemon rind. Surprisingly, the day appeared not much changed. Maybe the way it looks on a slightly cloudy day. We listened for birds making strange sounds or dogs freaking out, but none of that happened that I could sense.
I did get stung by a bee, but that was probably because I put my arm on it when I reached for my water. It must have been on the arm of my chair. Anyway, it only hurt for a little while. I’ve never been stung by a bee before so I was a little concerned I might have a reaction, but nothing happened. There was a hornet’s nest under the playground equipment. We heard kids talking about it, but I don’t think it was one of those. That would have been much more painful!
Back to the eclipse. We put our glasses back on and watched steadily. Suddenly, the lemon rind slice got smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether and the sky appeared totally black. Everybody in the park clapped and cheered. It was kind of like watching fireworks on the Fourth of July.
They’d told us we could take off our glasses when the sun was totally covered and look directly at it, so I did. I was amazed! Without the glasses, I could see a black disc the size of the sun with a brilliant white halo all the way around it. It flared out quite far in the dark sky. On the ground, it looked like early evening, with a slight glow of daylight all around at the horizon. Strange.
Since we only had about 4 minutes of totality, I barely took my eyes of that magnificent image of the black sun with its glowing halo. A brighter spot of orange was in the lower left of the halo. Maybe a solar flare?
Then, before I’d had my fill of that image, bright whiteness erupted in the lower left and I quickly put my glasses back on. The lemon rind grew in the lower right until daylight came back in the park. The next hour or so was anti-climactic so we packed up our stuff and left the park, hunting for a gas station for a bathroom break.
The trip home on 57 was about as congested as the way down and traffic kept slowing down suddenly or stopping altogether so it was a little nerve-racking, but we made it home without any trouble.
Two things struck me about the whole event. Well, three, actually. First, it was so nice to see everyone coming together for a common purpose – to watch this rare event unfold. In spite of our political, racial, whatever differences, we were all united for a few hours on Monday, April 8 in the early afternoon to witness something awesome.
Secondly, I was amazed at how truly bright our sun is. Even when it was more than 90 percent covered, it still shown bright enough to give us daylight. Maybe cloudy-day daylight, but it wasn’t dark. Along with the daylight came its heat. The temperature did drop a bit when it neared totality, but then warmed up again when it was over. Even a little bit of sunlight gives us life. Although I suspect if the sun was actually reduced to only 10 percent of its brightness over a long period of time, life on this planet would be over.
The third thing that I’ll carry with me forever about this event is how beautiful it was. Taking off my glasses when the sun was totally blocked out and the sky was perfectly black and then seeing that beautiful corona was breathtaking! I’ll never forget it!
Early stages of a total solar eclipse shows the moon crossing in front of the sun in Bloomington, IL. Josh Edelson/AFP via Getty Images
The moon blots out the sun, during a total solar eclipse, as seen from Carbondale, Illinois, April 8, 2024.
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