(COLUMN) “So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I’m a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald… striking.
So, I’m on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one – big hitter, the Lama – long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga… gunga, gunga-galunga.
So we finish eighteen and he’s gonna stiff me. And I say, “Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.” And he says, “Oh, uh, there won’t be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.”
So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.” — Carl Spackler
As some of you may know, the above speech is from Bill Murray in the 1980 movie classic Caddyshack. The final lines are what I remember from this most funny scene. Right before he dies, Carl Spackler believes he will get total consciousness from the Dalai Lama. This is crazy coming from Spackler, of course, but I have thought about it a lot over the years. What exactly is ‘total consciousness’ and will I ever receive it in my life.
So, there I was on Monday afternoon at Pinnacle Mountain State Park near Little Rock. Delta Democrat-Time reporter Jay Fletcher and his son, Sydney, and I had driven with me to see the total eclipse.
As the moon moved closer and closer to fully enveloping the sun, I thought that this may be the moment in my life where everything becomes clear. When I, in fact, get as close as I ever will be to total consciousness.
I am sad to report that I don’t think it happened. This wasn’t a Larry David — I am not impressed shrug — mind you. It was a spectacular moment and I am glad that I saw it. Still, I left with the feeling that I didn’t do it quite right.
Quite frankly, I panicked. I have always sort of done things by the seat of my pants. I will figure it out when I get there. This philosophy usually works. Jay, Sydney and I didn’t exactly know where we were going when we left Greenville on Monday morning. We would just find a spot somewhere in Central Arkansas where we could see the total solar eclipse. As we drove, I was fretting about traffic. Half the world would be here. Would it be bumper to bumper? Turns out traffic was this fine.
What about the weather? I was warned it would be nasty and cloudy and not worth the trip. Turns out the weather was just about perfect with mostly clear sunshine.
Then, Jay suggested we drive past Little Rock to the Pinnacle park. It turned out to be a great decision. We were next to a nice lake, the park wasn’t too crowded and filled with friendly people from all over the country. Everything, by the seat of my pants, was going just fine.
We got there just in time as the eclipse began. The moon was slowly crossing over the sun. I looked up every few minutes to check it’s progress. The minutes and second ticked down and things got weird and dark. Totality would soon be upon us!
When totality began is when I didn’t know what I was doing. I first looked around and saw everyone looking up at the eclipse. I put my eclipse glasses on and just saw blackness. This can’t be right. I panicked some more. Am I missing it? I then got my cell phone out and started filming everything. For a few moments, I hated myself for this. I don’t want to be one of those cell phone guys who has to document every second of my life with a cell phone video. I was seeking total consciousness, darn it! I put my cell phone in my pocket. I then saw people looking straight at the eclipse with no eclipse glasses. I thought you would go blind if you did this, right? Can I do this? Am I missing something. Turns out during the fleeting moment of totality, as I later researched, it’s OK to look at a total eclipse. (Please note when the next solar eclipse happens in 2044 do not take my word for this and make sure you do your research).
Then it was over. I left with an admiration of how small we are in the universe and also how there must be a God for me to be standing here on this planet in this vast universe and the chances of me even existing are about infinity to none. I also left with an admiration of the human desire for discovery. Only genius scientist could figure out when and where exactly an eclipse would appear.
Still, I left with a little wistfulness that I didn’t have a plan for how to truly view and understand the eclipse. The next time in 2044, I am going to make sure I am ready.
David W. Healy is the sports editor of the Delta Democrat-Times. He can be reached at dhealy@ddtonline.com
