By Bodior Elliott
On Monday, the lawn outside of Barnes Hall at Towson University was speckled with an eager crowd. Students laid prone on multi-colored wire chairs, their sandals kicked up on matching stools in the center of the lawn. Students, professors and dorm advisors chattered as they observed darkening clouds and strange light. A certain celestial strangeness sat heavily atop their conversations. Their eager, wide-eyed faces exchanged anticipatory looks towards the sky.
“Girl, stop looking without your glasses!” Someone hissed as a paper of cheap paper lenses was passed around a group of around six people.
The sky grew a pale blue, the middle of the day suddenly resembling an early morning twilight. The temperature began to slide downwards as the sky darkened and a reverent hush filled the crowd as the bright yellow sun began to seemingly fade from the middle of the sky. Clouds surrounded it all at once, a sort of ethereal ring surrounding the sun as the moon crossed in front of its view. Even the animals began to act strangely—an orange cat in a nearby window paced erratically back and forth as if looking for the source of the strange phenomenon.
Everyone was gathered to watch the solar eclipse, a phenomenon in which the moon passes in front of the sun. This creates a shadow on Earth and creates the illusion of the blotted out sun that has fascinated humanity for millennia. This was one of many groups of watchers around campus. From West Village all the way to the Science Complex, Towson was temporarily under the spell of the solar eclipse.
Despite the fact that totality could not be observed in Maryland, onlookers agreed it was a once-in-a-generation sight to see.
“The shadow is basically going over Earth at thousands of miles an hour,” said Towson professor Parviz Ghavamian, an expert in astrophysics. “The shadow can be anywhere from a hundred to two hundred miles wide.”
Humans have been looking up to view eclipses for thousands of years, the oldest known recording of one dating back to the 31st century B.C.E. in modern day Ireland, according to NASA. Over the course of human history, many cultures have had myths and beliefs surrounding the illusive eclipse. In ancient China, solar eclipses were ascribed to a dragon devouring the sun. The Greeks associated them with bad omens. Even the Mayans, masters of astronomy, correlated them with catastrophe that could only be appeased by the gods. Luckily for us, the eclipses are far less dangerous than our ancestors believed.
For American eclipse lovers, it’ll be quite a long time before the next one comes. While solar eclipses themselves are an already uncommon celestial event, astronomers predict that the United States won’t see another one for the next 20 years. In August of 2044, the path of totality will make its way from Oregon, crossing all the way down to Western Texas.
Given that, many people were striving to make the most of this viewing of the eclipse. Ghavamian said it was an experience he wasn’t willing to miss.
“I had to work to get there, but I kind of had this last-minute decision to go see this in person,” Ghavamian said. “I drove all the way to Western Pennsylvania to a town called Franklin, which borders the state of Ohio.”
Ghavamian, an astronomer, has a passion for the stars. In his office, he has little knick knacks of space and posters painting a picture of his deep fascination and love for the night sky. He has seen six solar eclipses in his lifetime. While he isn’t an “eclipse chaser” by any means, he finds beauty in the night sky that goes back to his childhood.
“My dad had a telescope at home and a little book Atlas that pictures of constellations and galaxies and things like that, and I got very interested in trying to get those through the telescope,” Ghavamian explained.
Those who did not have a professional background in astronomy still appreciated the sight.
Trent Radford, a Towson computer information systems student and an amateur astronomer who had outfitted his telescope to filter out the harsh rays of the sun to safely view the partial eclipse, looked up at the sky with an inquisitive expression.
“I was always kind of interested, you know as a kid, then as I got older, I saved up enough money to buy actual equipment, and this is where we are now,” Radford said.
While Radford isn’t a professional astronomer, he still tries to document as many of these celestial events as he can. The telescope he showed not only gave high-definition images of the partial eclipse, but also had photo-taking abilities, a feature he was more than happy to share with me after our interview. Looking through the scope showed a gorgeous display of the orange glow, the haze of the clouds adding texture to the dazzling image.
“It’s a rare occurrence to see a 100 percent totality, especially in the US, especially now,” he said. “Especially now, like, this is the only one that we’ll get for the next, like, 20 years. This is the first one I’ve even ever documented as an amateur astronomer.”