Unless you were dumb enough not to listen to every scientific and medical authority across the United States drumbeating that you must wear special protective glasses to glance at the sky as the moon passed between earth and the sun, you and 32 million others now face the same pressing question.
That would be — now that April 8, 2024 is in the rearview mirror and since eclipses in the neighborhood are not regularly scheduled events — What do I do with the glasses?
My eclipse day Monday began at 7 a.m., about 15 minutes before sunrise in Seymour. The sun was doing its daily duty — rising. There were no thick clouds, so it was a performance kind of in reverse of the eclipse, gradually showing itself.
In the car, listening to 106.1 FM I heeded the warning not to drive with the eclipse glasses on. They do not improve vision to 20-20.
I gave them a little test run when indoors, but they basically dropped my vision capability to about 200-2000. I noticed on the inner cardboard frames there were about 1,000 words of warning noting what not to do with them, much like those television ads touting new wonder drugs that are supposed to fix this disease or that, but might have side effects like suicidal thoughts, bleeding to death, or falling off a cliff while fainting.
For sure, the glasses should not have been a huge investment. Some organizations gave them away. Some companies charged minimal fees.
I ordered early, obtaining a package of 10 pairs for about $12 for myself, my wife, and any friend who needed some. The company called these glasses “American Flag Design.” This was a stretch. They did not resemble the flag at all. The front side of the lightweight, flimsy wraparounds were red and blue, though, with the back being white. At least they were color-coordinated with the flag.
Still, slipping them on did not give you the itch to stand at attention and sing the National Anthem, or recite the Pledge of Allegiance.
Technically, the 100 percent path of the eclipse in the path of totality in Seymour was 3 minutes, 6 seconds at 3:06 p.m. The totality of totality was from 1:49 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. It was ill-advised to chat by tilting your head back and squinting minus glasses.
Then it was over. All the years of anticipation since 2017, since the previous eclipse around, and here we all are stuck with useless eclipse glasses.
What should we all do with millions of them now? Here are some options:
1) Stash them in a box carefully until 2099, the next eclipse of such magnitude for Indiana.
2) Put them aside and bring them out each April 8 to celebrate the anniversary in hopes the heavens burst forth with a bonus eclipse.
3) Employ the glasses as a snazzy Halloween accompaniment with the costume of choice.
4) Wear the glasses around town on sunny days to show how cool you are.
5) Put them in a drawer and forget all about them.
6) Toss them in next week’s garbage, severing any emotional attachment to eclipse equipment.
7) Wear them to work and use the glasses as a shield between you and your boss as you snooze behind them..
8) Gift the glasses to NASA with the suggestion they be placed as carry-on with astronauts on a rocket to Mars.
9) Hold a major get-together with cake and Kool-Aid for friends and family in their glasses because you just can’t stand the eclipse is over and you want to party on.
10) Recycle them. Hurry up and send your leftovers to Eclipse Glasses USA, LLC, P.O. Box 50571, Provo, Utah by Aug. 1. They will be forwarded to school children in Latin America for viewing a later-in-August eclipse in that part of the world.;
This is the most generous idea of all. How about that? Your inexpensive, once-in-a-lifetime-used glasses can be valued again.