It’s a clear morning on the central Oregon Coast, the first one in a while. We’re hoping for a similar weather pattern a week from now, when the solar eclipse moves to barrel across the country (in actuality, the planet will turn, like it always does, beneath the eclipse). The spectacle will hit the Oregon Coast first, crossing a section that spans from a point just below Waldport to a stretch of coastline above Pacific City.
People around here have been bracing themselves. Roads, parks, and area establishments are already overrun with extra tourists. Nightmare traffic is being predicted for next weekend (these tales are mildly reminiscent of predictions I once heeded when Y2K was looming). I’m hoping to avoid a traffic jam on Highway 101 by making it into the area of totality the night before the moon blocks our morning light. On the Oregon Coast, lots of people have been fretting about fog or low clouds getting in the way of the whole show. Today, however, the weather forecast for Newport on August 21 reveals a happy sun. Let’s hope this icon remains nice and yellow.
On Sunday night, I’ll be attending a slumber party consisting of three women who don’t want to drive on the day of the eclipse. In the morning, we plan to have breakfast with friends of the hostess of this said party, so we can all view the eclipse from their eastward facing back deck. Sounds like as good a plan as any.
Normally, I would be back at work by now, kicking off the new semester at Cuyamaca College, in El Cajon, California. I’ve just become a full-time writer (a.k.a. retiree). It’s strange to consider my former coworkers, the ones still living in my old routine. It’s even stranger to think about my own schedule, the unknowns before me. Writing is one of my reasons for this recent passage. And I have been writing most days. I’m particularly happy with two submissions that were born of intensity only a significant amount of time could have brought about.
I’ve also got a number of short stories going, some poems, plus the first draft of a novel that should keep me grappling a while. Yet my works-in-progress pretty much recount worlds I encountered as a working woman. Indeed, my work life has proven to be fodder for much of what I have to say, in my fiction, anyway. Now that I have so much free time, I’m wondering where new material will come from. While my surroundings are gorgeous, the pace of life here is slow. Certainly, my imagination will continue to reach back to earlier times for nuggets that will help me round out this story or that poem. But what about current vicissitudes? Yes, I will spend time with a tribe of people who volunteer, work on their health, travel, and natter in coffee houses. I’ve already joined the Central Coast Chorale. I’m not suggesting there won’t be stories in these dimensions, but I’ve just released a big chunk of me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how my days in higher education kept my self-esteem whole. I had my place on a fine team—we were accomplishing something. I was continually learning new technologies. I worked at developing my teaching style. I enjoyed the college culture—the camaraderie I experienced with passionate educators. I don’t regret my decision to retire, but I do feel the need to remake the fabric of my life so that I actually have something to say.
I will note, the solar eclipse has already made its way into one of my short stories. While my character has decided to walk some eight miles along the beach to Waldport, in order to get into the area of totality, she still doesn’t know what this event will mean for her life. Hopefully her creator will come up with something after she experiences the little gathering on the back deck of the home of these folks she hasn’t yet met, the ones living in Newport.