All Things Bright And Beautiful
An Unusual Party
She was at a cocktail party, a fun affair with an amazingly diverse group of guests. Guests from, what seemed, every socio-economic strata and cultural group truly enjoyed each other’s company, interacting merrily. Except for one. Oh yes, people approached him and chatted, but inevitably found a reason to withdraw.
He could have been more strikingly handsome, but a permanent frown weighed heavily on his brows. A whispered explanation came, “Oh, that’s the Environmentalist.”
Can the Green New Deal be such a weight that it forms a barrier between him and the rest of the party-goers? She procured another beverage to fortify herself and approached him. Oddly, as they eyed each other it seemed as if he weighed whether to poured out the anguish of his soul.
Volumes of worries, statistics, and unused solutions gushed from him. He had all the fears but none of the hope of the Sunrise Movement and @AOC.
She staggered away.
The gravity of his judgment and score-keeping nearly crushed her. Quickly, she raced to the veranda to breathe in fresh air, to soar vicariously with the mating lightning bugs, to rejoice with the insect chorus.
Are things SO bad that the earth is doomed?
She ticked off a list: I recycle voluntarily and I did for years before it was law. I group all my car errands together to save fuel and time. I have a compost pile for plant waste from my kitchen. I plant trees and flowers (some are native.) I grow some of my food. I have a water-permeable stone driveway. I chose an electricity provider which partially uses wind power.
I drive an hour one way to get to work. I drive an hour one way to visit friends several times a week. I weekly drive an hour one way to belong to a band I love. I don’t even own a bicycle. I don’t have solar panels (too many trees shading my house.) I live in a neighborhood where I must drive to nearly anyplace I want to go. I like lots of lights on in my house (seasonal affective disorder – maybe I should just drug myself up to be nicer to the planet.) I have no problem getting on a plane once a year to visit relatives across the country or a vacation spot in central America. I think that buying back carbon units is a bunch of baloney – a scam. I didn’t march for the climate warming cause last weekend. I excuse myself from walking or biking to some places on the grounds that I am a single scaredy-cat vulnerable woman. I pray for people, but I don’t pray for Mother Earth.
I wonder how I come out in the balance of Gaia friendliness?
As if her mind had created a reality, a huge dial appeared before her. The starting point was at a number for positive impact; the halfway point indicated no impact. Then, numbers on the other side starting showing increasing amounts of carbon dioxide dumping. Suddenly, HER full name appeared above the dial in garish flashing light bulbs like a prop from some hideous game show.
The pointer on the dial wriggled from its resting place at extreme positive impact. It began traversing towards the zero. Oh God, no. It creaked and squeaked on its unlubricated axle, but kept moving towards the bad side. It reached zero impact. It did not stop moving.
She twirled on her sandals to put her back to the loathsome device.
And she wept.