As luck would have it, my Lighter Side deadline falls a mere 8 hours before one of the most anticipated events in recent history, the full solar eclipse.
Therefore, I must write this column before the long-awaited celestial event occurs.
Even if I had the opportunity to write this column after the big event, I’m not sure I could add much to the millions of words that have been dedicated to the precise nature of the phenomenon itself, and our chaotic response to it. I’ve read countless articles proclaiming impending traffic problems, confused animals, potential power outages and faulty paper glasses.
Frankly, it all seems a little apocalyptic to me. If you’re reading this on Tuesday, either we survived, or you are data mining from your air-tight bunker on post-apocalyptic earth, probably with cryogenically preserved Matt Damon. Lucky you.
Dear Post Eclipse America,
First, if you’re reading this, it means two things: 1- you didn’t die; 2- you didn’t melt your eyeballs out because of those sketchy glasses from the fair. Congratulations! I hope your eclipse viewing was as magical as Facebook anticipated it would be, ad nauseam, for the last four months.
Now that we have witnessed an awe-inspiring event that reminds us of our relative smallness, let’s remember our sameness as well. We all had to check and recheck the times, blow up NASA.gov with a million inquiries about whether our addresses were in totality and figure out whether to send our kids to school. Now that these tasks are off our collective plates, let’s use that free time to remember to be nice to each other.
It seems like this event could be a great turning point for us. Post-eclipse, we could decide to do some amazing things, like banish the use of kale as an actual food for humans. Clearly that stuff is only for small woodland creatures.
We could also propose an exchange wherein my second husband Justin Timberlake starts making more music, and Justin Bieber fades into obscurity. While we’re improving the music we listen to, let’s stop with all this auto-tune nonsense.
Another improvement that would be easily made is establishing some rules of engagement for Facebook political arguments. There is one rule: don’t. If you share so much as one political opinion on social media, you’re out forever. The following issues go hand in hand with the rules of social media engagement, and I encourage a ban on these things too: hashtags, selfies and fake outrage.
I’m sure we will make the world a better place if we can just make these simple tweaks to our everyday lives. After all, we’ve been given a second chance if we made it through the eclipse of doom and planet earth and all of humanity survived. I intend to be nicer to my kids for a couple of days, until they get on my very last nerve, then I’ll probably resume my usual ranting mother routine. But at least I will have tried.
Overheard at the salon: “I don’t care if they are made out of shadows, these snakes things better not show up at my house!”
Julie Holt is a wife, mother of three, hair stylist, runner, reader, writer, and is tired. Very tired. She works in Brentwood, lives in Spring Hill and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. You can follow Julie on Twitter @jh_lighter_side.