When I pretend I’m gay
I never feel that way
I’m only painting the clouds with sunshine
When I hold back a tear
To make a smile appear
I’m only painting the clouds with sunshine

—“Painting the Clouds with Sunshine,”
Joe A. Burke and Al Dubin

*

My husband says, “Start with the headline.” So.

Ailing Kathy Waller Watches Eclipse from Hotel Bedroom
but Claims Holding Back Tears Unnecessary, She’s Fine
Hillsboro Partly Cloudy, Street Lights Kick On but That’s About It

That really is about it. Few blanks to fill in. I came down with something Saturday night, slept most of Sunday, drank Coke, watched NASA’s broadcast of the eclipse on TV (Mazatlan, Torreon, Kerrville, Dallas, Little Rock, Cleveland . . . ), drank more Coke, ate a few saltine crackers, slept most of Monday. Drove home Tuesday.

*Total eclipse 2024, Dallas, TX, via NASA, viewed from hotel room, Hillsboro, TX*

I didn’t wake with a song in my head Tuesday morning but on the drive was suddenly gifted with the one referenced above.

Published in 1929, the song “encourages listeners to embrace a mindset that seeks out the silver lining in every cloud, finding solace and joy in even the darkest of times.”

That description doesn’t reflect my feelings about my eclipse experience. In the first place, it wasn’t, metaphorically, “the darkest of times”; it was a little bug, a mild under-the-weatherness, a minor malady leading to a minor disappointment. In the second place, it wasn’t “the darkest of times” in reality either; every cloud in the partly cloudy sky had a silver lining. It didn’t get dark at all. That could have been a major disappointment, but frankly, my dears, I felt too ratty to care.

(Oh, all right, I admit to having a couple of evil thoughts at hearing people in Dallas, only 56.36 miles northeast of the room where I lay wallowing in my misery, whoop it up in pitch-black dark at midday. And I decided the Greeks might be right about weasels.)

OldTimemusic.com references Bing Crosby’s recording of “Painting the Clouds with Sunshine,” but I prefer Jean Goldkette’s version, vocal by Frank Munn, recorded in 1929. I like the music of that era. The arrangement is so bouncy that the singer couldn’t be near tears.

People watching from outdoor Eclipseboro–Eclipseboro Park, Main Street Eclipseboro, Cosmic Cowboy Eclipse Festival, Eclipse Carnival, Eclipseboro Landing, or Parking and Pancakes at First Methodist Church, for example–might have seen the moon move across the sun even if not in total darkness; I didn’t ask. I did snap a picture through the window during totality, but the flash sort of dulled the effect.

And that is the story of Kathy and David’s Excellent Eclipse Adventure 2024.

*

Pollyanna. Hayley Mills. Pollyanna (movie). Pollyanna (clip from movie, 1960).

For women my age, “Pollyanna” needs no explanation. For the younger generation, there are the links. There are several movie adaptations, going back to a 1920 version starring Mary Pickford, but the only real, true Pollyanna was released by Disney in 1960.

The script writer said, “In the book, Pollyanna was so filled with happiness and light that I wanted to kick her. In the old days, she came on like Betty Hutton. Now, she is shy. We have an adult drag advice out of her. … instead of making her the ‘glad girl’ of the book, we’ve simmered her cheerfulness down to merely emphasize the things-could-be-worse attitude.”

Pollyanna and, a couple of years later, Disney’s The Parent Trap, made Hayley Mills the god of millions of American girls’ idolatry. It’s fashionable to sneer a bit (as I did in the title) at Pollyanna’s “glad girl” personality, but I saw the movie again, more than fifty years after seeing it the first time, and still liked it. The script writer did well, toning down Pollyanna’s robust and saccharine optimism, and making her a sweet little girl who’s taken her father’s philosophy to heart.

*

Composer Joe Burke also wrote “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” and “Carolina Moon.”

Lyricist Al Durbin also wrote “We’re in the Money” and “September in the Rain.”

Just sayin’.

This morning, I woke, as I often do, with a song in my head. Today’s selection: “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” Every few minutes, I break out into song: “I sing because I’m happyyyy . . .”

The hymn is infinitely more beneficial to my mental health, and, I’m sure, to David’s, than the recent “Pop Goes the Weasel.” Not only can those lyrics grow tiresome, but recently, decades after learning the song, I realized it might not have a happy ending.

The verse I learned:

All around the mulberry bush
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought t’was all in fun.
Pop! goes the weasel.

As a child, I sang mindlessly. It’s occurred to me, however, that the word weasel has some negative connotations. One definition is, “a sneaky, untrustworthy, or insincere person.” In The Wind in the Willows, weasels were villains. In the Greek culture, the weasel is believed to be a sign of bad luck, even evil.

If the song’s weasel is untrustworthy, and has led the monkey to believe the chase is all in fun, but then turns and goes Pop! . . . that sounds like bad luck for the monkey.

Wikipedia, which contains a long and comprehensive entry about the song, mentions nothing of the kind, so perhaps my interpretation derives from either my maladjusted mind or my propensity for reading and writing crime fiction. (One critique partner, after reading my latest story, which came to me in a dream, said, “What do you think about at night?”)

Anyway, I’ve decided to forget about monkeys and weasels and sing because I’m happyyyyy.

I’m happy because even as I type, we’re headed north to view the solar eclipse directly in its path over Texas. Something about travel brings out the blogger in me; as soon as we hit the interstate, I’m moved to get out the laptop, fire up the hotspot, run down batteries, and write.

Not the appropriate response.

After spending the Covid years, followed by the knee and foot surgery years, cooped up in the house, I should be glorying in the beautiful Texas landscape rolling by my window. But on this stretch of interstate there’s not much to glory in. What used to be miles and miles of flat grassland is now miles and miles of city interspersed with Buccee’s and McDonald’s. I’d rather stare at a monitor.

We’re traveling early in hopes of missing bumper-to-bumper traffic. A million visitors are expected in Texas this weekend, and on a good day, at least 800,000 traverse this route. At the same time.

With millions more across the nation watching the eclipse, and many of them writing about it, my thousand words won’t add much.

Except –we’ve already experienced three singular events:

Only a few miles from home, David swerved, without colliding with another car, into the left lane to avoid something big and flat lying directly in front of us. Our good fortune leads me to suspect that the Greeks were wrong: the weasel, which I’d been thinking of, but not singing about, all morning, is really a good omen.
I connected the hotspot all by myself, without asking David, again, to remind me how. And I did that even though the process initially went wrong–something new, I swear–and clicking brought up a different screen. Faced with a list of every network in Central Texas except ours, I calmly started over and made it work. And–and here’s the third event–
One of the networks on the list was labeled FBI Surveillance van. The most exciting thing that’s happened since the hogs ate my brother.* Maybe I shouldn’t mention the FBI online, but it might be the most exciting thing that happens this weekend. If you’re ever asked, please bear witness to my voluntary statement that I did not attempt to hack into that network. If they don’t believe that, I can only hope Leavenworth allows laptops.

I say the unexpected network might be the most exciting thing because, while astronomers predict a solar eclipse, meteorologists predict cloud cover, possibly rain. At least in our vicinity. At first, I felt pretty low at the prospect of driving 132 miles one way and not seeing the sun disappear. Last October, we drove about 100 miles to see cloud cover, and in 2017, we drove to Missouri to see the moon cover part of the sun and the light dim almost imperceptibly.**

Then I remembered I’m a native Texan, a certified old-timer, and that the unofficial State Motto is, “Sure Could Use Some Rain.”*** So I adjusted my attitude. Let it rain.

I promise not to complain about cloud cover either. The other State Motto is, “If You Don’t Like the Weather in Texas, Just Wait.” Things change.

I do worry about visitors from far away, however. Like the couple who live in Norway, in the Arctic Circle. They say they’ve never been to Texas and look forward to seeing it. If it rains, they’ll see Vermont instead. Well, maybe Houston; it sometimes rains there, too.

Okay, we’re here. Laptop and phone batteries in fine shape. Snacks in fine shape, from Tuna Creations to individually packaged microwavable soup to apples to Wheat Thins to pecans to popcorn. Plus paper towels, plasticware, reusable microwavable soup bowls (new addition). And, I’m sure, other things I don’t know about. David is always prepared.

My father said that no man should get married until he’d first lived as a bachelor for at least six months and learned to take care of himself. He lived with his widowed father for years before marrying and was an excellent cook and housekeeper.

David was a bachelor for a long time, too. He can do anything.****I lived alone for years and am a mess.*****

Enough about me and the solar eclipse.

1997 Jaguar XK8 Coupe Automatic 4.0 Front Taken in Charlecote Park by Vauxford, CC BY SA 4.0 via Wikimedia

We’ll see what happens. Probably what NASA predicts, but maybe not. Maybe we’ll see an omen of a future more terrible than the weasel ever thought of: possibly the release of an Eternal Bat and a Blue Jaguar that will destroy the stars and mankind; or Homeland Security hijacking the “biblical event” (how and why have not been explained).

But that is fodder for another post. Or not, depending on the Jaguar.

*

*My mother used to say that. I don’t have a brother. Neither did my mom. It’s Texas talk.
**We chose Blue Springs because I have family there. Seeing them made up for the eclipse.
***The official State Motto is “Friendship.” No comment.
****Except make pies. My father made a killer chocolate meringue pie.
*****I’m not being facetiously self-effacing. Everyone who knows me well will back me up.