(Ed. note: In the buildup to the April 8, 2024 total solar eclipse, Mike Rusinko remembered back to another one over five decades ago.)
March 7, 1970 was a crisp, end-of-winter day in the Endless Mountains of Northern Pennsylvania, probably. My family lived in the heart of those mountains back then, in Troy. Troy had a toy store, a donut shop, and miles of woods to explore. I’m sure there were other wonderful things about Troy, but I was 9. Troy had all I needed to be 9.
In 1970, I was a third-grader at W.R. Croman Elementary School. A swarm of yellow buses filled the parking lot every morning and afternoon but not for me. I was a walker and hiked two miles to and from school every day like a Sherpa. Back then we didn’t count steps. Cardio had not yet been invented.
March 7 was a Saturday. It would be the day of the Great Eclipse of 1970, visible in totality along most of the Eastern seaboard and, in part, over most of the Lower 48.
I don’t remember it, really. I do, however, remember the day before, Friday, March 6, 1970.
Our teacher was Mrs. Tissue-Sleeve. This was not her real name, but the Kleenex under the metal stretch band of her Lady Speidel watch was very real. She was an older woman, but at 9 everyone is old-ish. She had a big heart, good intentions, and allergies. That day, as I recall now, had just gotten away from her.
We began with the Pledge. Then as we settled in, Mrs. Tissue-Sleeve told the class it would be a special morning. She........