It's such a nice little planet. It's got chocolate and music and everything. But I must confess that lately I've been wondering how long it's going to be around. The tales of Global Warming or Climate Change or Whatever are getting scarier and scarier, and more and more believable. I'm sure there have been other winters like the one we just slogged through, but I am pretty sure they were restricted to the upper reaches of Canada. Now comes the real test.
Those who have been with me for a while know what a total wimp I am in the heat. All my Irish and English ancestors come out in force and wail with me when the temperature nudges above 80 degrees. There is no "beach" in my summers. There is no "tan". If I have a color, it tends to be snow white or rose red. I only venture out of doors at daybreak and after sunset. Outside of that you will find me patting the air conditioner and singing its praises. If this summer is the equivalent of that sorry winter, I shall not be happy. Not happy at all. Then there's the issue of my issue. I worry about my children. And about their children. What, exactly, have we done to this poor place? And is there any way to slow it down or stop it or reverse it? I keep hoping that my son the scientist and my son the politician will one day join forces and come up with something brilliant that will both save the world and make them rich enough to build a nice little house (or an "ell" on their mansions) for Mom and Dad.
Meanwhile, my efforts at recycling have gotten quite serious. And I think I'd better back off on the Netflix episodes of "Dr. Who." The frightening images of the future aren't helping me sleep any better. (Although I do agree, that bow-ties are "cool".) It's time for us all to walk more and drive less, to take our reusable bags to the grocery store, to recycle anything we can get our hands on, and to take this threat a lot more seriously than we have been. We don't have a blue Police Call Box in which to escape.
Those who have been with me for a while know what a total wimp I am in the heat. All my Irish and English ancestors come out in force and wail with me when the temperature nudges above 80 degrees. There is no "beach" in my summers. There is no "tan". If I have a color, it tends to be snow white or rose red. I only venture out of doors at daybreak and after sunset. Outside of that you will find me patting the air conditioner and singing its praises. If this summer is the equivalent of that sorry winter, I shall not be happy. Not happy at all. Then there's the issue of my issue. I worry about my children. And about their children. What, exactly, have we done to this poor place? And is there any way to slow it down or stop it or reverse it? I keep hoping that my son the scientist and my son the politician will one day join forces and come up with something brilliant that will both save the world and make them rich enough to build a nice little house (or an "ell" on their mansions) for Mom and Dad.
Meanwhile, my efforts at recycling have gotten quite serious. And I think I'd better back off on the Netflix episodes of "Dr. Who." The frightening images of the future aren't helping me sleep any better. (Although I do agree, that bow-ties are "cool".) It's time for us all to walk more and drive less, to take our reusable bags to the grocery store, to recycle anything we can get our hands on, and to take this threat a lot more seriously than we have been. We don't have a blue Police Call Box in which to escape.
RSS Feed