It may well be that most of us are not that worried about global climate change. But some of us are. One person I know is very worried. (I know because I am related to her by marriage). We talked recently after she came back from visiting her homies back in California. Somehow the subject slewed over to the great numbers of young people who are experiencing shocking amounts of anxiety. She brought it up, not me.
“Why do you think that is?” I asked.
“It’s climate change,” she said confidently and sorrowfully. “They are all worried that the world is coming to an end.”
I know she moves in circles more financially and educationally elevated than my own so she has an excuse for being dim in certain ways. But all I could think of were the droves of young people in my church confidently going to school, working after school, raising chickens, fighting cancer, getting married, playing frisbee, and whose thoughts about climate are confined to whether they will be able to make lots of money shoveling snow or mowing lawns after school. I could not think of anything else to say but that being told you have to reach down deep inside of yourself to figure out if you are a girl or a boy or what kind of sexual experience is likely to give your life any meaning was the more likely explanation for anxiety levels in young people today. She is very polite. Not much else was said on that subject. I can tell it’s getting harder and harder to avoid talking about Christ. That’s a good thing.
Emerald ash borer? Dutch elm disease? When trees in municipal areas in Minnesota are taken out so brutally, it usually means there's an infestation of parasitic insects or disease. As with cancer treatments, a lot of healthy trees (cells) are removed to prevent the blight from spreading.
This one hit me hard. There is something so “let them eat cake” about this study. It actually reinforces a line of thought I’ve had for the last year, which is how entirely superficial and self focused most of the dialogue within my dear, liberal communities has become. These days when some jerk is rambling on such as these folks who conducted this ridiculous “study” I have to keep my head down, mainly because I don’t want to have to look around the room and see a bunch of folks nodding in agreement. Perhaps it was being raised in a home, where mothers’ would show up at our front door, dead baby in arms, hoping that perhaps we could do something. Perhaps it’s that my own father died for lack of access to health care. Or perhaps that it’s that I live in the sort of absurd reality of a wine industry that sells Pinot Noir for 60.00 a bottle but cannot seem to afford proper health care for the truly vulnerable migrant farm working community. Meanwhile. The good folks in the high rent district of Haight and Ashbury are crying foul for their exposure to a slightly more volatile winter while wondering when that next hand picked crop of spring strawberries (picked by migrant workers) is going to hit their well curated corner market.
A very ancient sycamore near our home was cut down this week for no reason I can fathom. I told my wife a bit guiltily that I find myself mourning the death of a great tree more than the death of an animal. But then, I’m a hunter and not a lumberjack, so there’s that.
It may well be that most of us are not that worried about global climate change. But some of us are. One person I know is very worried. (I know because I am related to her by marriage). We talked recently after she came back from visiting her homies back in California. Somehow the subject slewed over to the great numbers of young people who are experiencing shocking amounts of anxiety. She brought it up, not me.
“Why do you think that is?” I asked.
“It’s climate change,” she said confidently and sorrowfully. “They are all worried that the world is coming to an end.”
I know she moves in circles more financially and educationally elevated than my own so she has an excuse for being dim in certain ways. But all I could think of were the droves of young people in my church confidently going to school, working after school, raising chickens, fighting cancer, getting married, playing frisbee, and whose thoughts about climate are confined to whether they will be able to make lots of money shoveling snow or mowing lawns after school. I could not think of anything else to say but that being told you have to reach down deep inside of yourself to figure out if you are a girl or a boy or what kind of sexual experience is likely to give your life any meaning was the more likely explanation for anxiety levels in young people today. She is very polite. Not much else was said on that subject. I can tell it’s getting harder and harder to avoid talking about Christ. That’s a good thing.
😂 Yes.
Emerald ash borer? Dutch elm disease? When trees in municipal areas in Minnesota are taken out so brutally, it usually means there's an infestation of parasitic insects or disease. As with cancer treatments, a lot of healthy trees (cells) are removed to prevent the blight from spreading.
This one hit me hard. There is something so “let them eat cake” about this study. It actually reinforces a line of thought I’ve had for the last year, which is how entirely superficial and self focused most of the dialogue within my dear, liberal communities has become. These days when some jerk is rambling on such as these folks who conducted this ridiculous “study” I have to keep my head down, mainly because I don’t want to have to look around the room and see a bunch of folks nodding in agreement. Perhaps it was being raised in a home, where mothers’ would show up at our front door, dead baby in arms, hoping that perhaps we could do something. Perhaps it’s that my own father died for lack of access to health care. Or perhaps that it’s that I live in the sort of absurd reality of a wine industry that sells Pinot Noir for 60.00 a bottle but cannot seem to afford proper health care for the truly vulnerable migrant farm working community. Meanwhile. The good folks in the high rent district of Haight and Ashbury are crying foul for their exposure to a slightly more volatile winter while wondering when that next hand picked crop of spring strawberries (picked by migrant workers) is going to hit their well curated corner market.
Bless you for making me laugh a little during this insane week -- thank you!
A very ancient sycamore near our home was cut down this week for no reason I can fathom. I told my wife a bit guiltily that I find myself mourning the death of a great tree more than the death of an animal. But then, I’m a hunter and not a lumberjack, so there’s that.