On seemingly normal Monday afternoon, our brothers all gathered 300 feet in the air, eyes glued to the sky. It was April 8, 2024, the day the total solar eclipse could be seen from North America, and our chapter hosted a solar eclipse viewing party. At a time when we normally would have been scattered across campus and caught up in the stress of problem sets, lab reports, and impending exams, we congregated on a rooftop against the backdrop of a cloudy Philly skyline.
As we waited for the moon to meander its way in front of the sun, we passed eclipse glasses, snacks, and life updates back and forth. We heard about one brother’s new pet hermit crabs, and about another’s upcoming plans to hike with goats. We Googled horoscopes and took silly pictures. We shared Moon Pies and laughed at moon themed dad jokes. Then, as the minute of totality approached, a hushed silence fell over us.
Watching an eclipse is an unexpectedly humbling experience. The strangely dark sky and sudden chill contribute to a sense of almost otherworldliness. We are reminded of the vastness of the universe, and our miniscule place in it.
During one of the busiest times of the school year, when many brothers feel caught up in the stress of classes and work, and when brotherhood gatherings are packed full of big events like professional development and Potential New Member Initiation, we were grateful for this simple time together.
Even after the sun returned, and we crammed into the elevator and descended back down to the ground, the buzz of wonder still hung in the air. The eclipse offered a sense of both alienation and comfort. It was a break from our normal chaos of classes and deadlines, and a chance to enjoy a moment that felt a bit out of this world.
The Partial Eclipse
Varun Trivedi models the perfect eclipse watching outfit
Katherine Li and Vivian Yao set their sights high
Riya Mitra and Ansh Goyal
- Elizabeth Qian, University of Pennsylvania (Tau Gamma ‘26)