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Posts Tagged ‘Climate Change’

Gray Swan Events

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , on January 24, 2024| Leave a Comment »

I’ve finally chiseled my way out of the ice palace. Last week the state of TN suffered from an extremely long, sub-freezing, snow event. Every day was a snow day; schools and most businesses closed down and since we live in a western, residential part of Nashville, our roads were free for sledding. I didn’t see a plow until the day before yesterday, 8 days after the first snow. The truck tried going up our small hill, which was a sheet of ice at this point, then it backed all the way down our road, beeping its disappointment.

Climate scientists call these crazy weather events “gray swans,” meaning they are predictable and still unprecedented.

“…the way to think about climate change now is through two interlinked concepts. The first is nonlinearity, the idea that change will happen by factors of multiplication, rather than addition. The second is the idea of “gray swan” events, which are both predictable and unprecedented. Together, these two ideas explain how we will face a rush of extremes, all scientifically imaginable but utterly new to human experience.Our climate world is now one of nonlinear relationships—which means we are now living in a time of accelerating change.”

https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2024/01/climate-change-acceleration-nonlinear-gray-swan/677201/

In other words, the winds will get faster at a certain altitude as the temperatures rise, and these jet-stream winds will accelerate much faster than predicted. I believe our little storm was a gray swan. The south has never had such a prolonged period of extreme cold – single digit days mixed with snow and sleet. Ever since Covid, I’ve hated using the word “unprecedented” but it certainly applies here.

The heat on the second floor of the Bride and Groom’s house stopped working. My friend, Leslie’s heat downstairs also went out on strike, so we spent an afternoon making soup in my warm kitchen. Turns out Leslie has an old fashioned wooden sled that the Pumpkin enjoyed luging down our street at record speeds.

One night, the Grands had a sleepover – we watched Home Alone 3 with Alex Pruitt instead of Macaulay Culkin. After a slow start, the kids were ROFL. The next morning we had fun watching Watson the Frenchie, aka The Little Emperor, try to retrieve tennis balls we launched into the snow. Also hilarious.

Gone are the days of building snow people in the sun. We had enough snow to build an army last week, but single digit temperatures kept us house bound. Plus, Bob reminded me that nose hairs freeze at 15 degrees. Since I’ve been in full-on soup mode all week, I thought I’d share a most comforting winter sweet potato soup

Sweet potato soup.
1 onion, 2 sweet potatoes and 3 big carrots. 1 big tablespoon grated ginger and half teaspoon cayenne pepper 1qt vegetable broth, 2 cups V8, 1 teaspoon sugar and half cup of peanut butter
Chop n Sauté onion and carrots
Add ginger, cayenne pepper a dash of salt
Add broth and V8 and peeled cubed sweet potatoes
Cook for 25 minutes
Add peanut butter and blend w immersion blender after it cools a little.

Thanks to the Bride for this recipe. Today we are warming up in Nashville, and I’m eager to get out and about. My fear of falling has finally subsided a bit. I hope you’ve all stayed warm and safe through our gray swan.

Grilled cheese and soup

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Unreachable

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , on November 1, 2021| 7 Comments »

Bob and I went to Temple on Friday night with our crew, including the Grands. It felt odd. We had to sign in, while people in masks tried making small talk. The Pumpkin was still in his Halloween costume from school, cape and all. He was looking forward to his birthday celebration. There were twins up on the bima who were going to be Bar and Bat Mitvah the next morning, and the Pumpkin joined them for a blessing since he was turning seven.

I haven’t been to a religious service in years, but on that night the Rabbi read Great Grandma Ada’s name along with others who had died at the end of October. In Judaism, Saturday was her yahrzeit, or the anniversary of the day she died, only one year ago. Time has been fractured. It seems to me like Ada is still here; there are so many times I want to call her, to tell her that Bob and I got our boosters, to ask her what she thinks of someone who is contemplating divorce. Divorce was a dirty word to her.

I want to tell her that the Love Bug is in Hebrew School and taking dance lessons again.

Ada would have loved this week’s Torah portion about Sarah. In the Bible, Sarah was the first Matriarch and she supposedly lived to the great old age of 127. And even though she was known as Abraham’s wife, I love that God commanded him: “Whatever Sarah tells you, do as she says.” That’s pretty much what Ada told Bob when we were married in her parking lot. The Rabbi’s sermon focused on the first part of the Torah portion, which happens to be Sarah’s death.

The homily however, was not about dying or an afterlife. Instead, it was about how we treat others while they are in mourning. That it is of no use to speak in platitudes, or make empty offers. I remembered once when Ada told me not to ask someone if they needed anything, just to bring it – and that usually meant food! If you are wondering, ‘should I call someone,’ call them! She coined “just do it” long before Nike.

The Rabbi reminded us that sometimes it’s best to just ask, “How are you doing today?”

Lately, we have all been in a collective state of mourning. Weddings and funerals have been postponed. Travel plans have been curtailed. A cousin had his Bar Mitzvah via Zoom. I stare at un-masked people in a grocery store with a feeling of wonder and disillusion. I smile at a baby behind my mask, and he just looks expectantly into my eyes, waiting for my smile. Why am I still feeling tenuous around people? Do I need to be saved?

This morning I read about how the Indigenous people of the Amazon have actually sued to keep missionaries OUT of their land!

“With its estimated population of 6,300 Indigenous people, it’s considered the world’s largest repository of uncontacted peoples. On a planet with vanishingly few places beyond the reach of modern civilization, the valley’s enduring isolation has made it one of the most alluring places for evangelists trying to reach the last people to have never heard the name Jesus Christ. Missionaries call such people the “unreached.” 

https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2021/10/31/brazil-amazon-christian-missionary/

It was a well crafted essay. It relayed just the facts, about how this man/preacher thinks he is called to bring Jesus into the lives of native people in Brazil, how he thinks the world is going to end and he wants to “save” them. The absurdity of this was apparent, and it offended me. According to Amazon, the company, there have been over 2,500 gods in the world. So this particular god is better than that particular god? https://www.amazon.com/Encyclopedia-Gods-Over-Deities-World/dp/0816029091

In Catholicism, we were not told to proselytize. Sure, in the past Jesuits traveled to new lands, but no longer. Jews, for the most part, don’t go around trying to convert other people, knocking on doors with pamphlets. Plus, the whole circumcision thing is a hard act to sell. To believe that one god is superior to the rest seems arrogant, if not dangerous.

November is Native American Heritage Month. There’s not a lot of time left to save Mother Earth. Leaders at the COP26 Summit in Glasgow have called climate change an existential crisis – “Enough of burning and drilling and mining our way deeper… We are digging our own graves.” I hope the people of the Amazon Basin win their suit against missionaries, and remain unreachable.

And I hope this birthday boy gets vaccinated soon!

 

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The Problem with Hegemony

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , on September 13, 2021| Leave a Comment »

Maybe it’s because I was reading about an English photographer and gardener who pivoted her lens to her own backyard as the Covid pandemic hit the UK. I love stories of resilience like this; your life is just chugging along happily and suddenly the world shuts down… Ola Maddams captured wildlife in their own element with a heat-sensing camera. I adored her incredible shots of hedgehogs and the occasional fox!

At least I think that’s why the word “hegemony” came to mind.

“…the dominance of one group over another, often supported by legitimating norms and ideas. The term hegemony is today often used as shorthand to describe the relatively dominant position of a particular set of ideas and their associated tendency to become commonsensical and intuitive, thereby inhibiting the dissemination or even the articulation of alternative ideas.” 

https://www.britannica.com/topic/hegemony

My interpretation of hegemony is that a ruling class comes to power without a single gunshot. They spread their ideology through stories, propaganda and coercion until it seems normal. If the Taliban think that maintaining their control of Afghanistan will be easy, that killing anyone who may have been associated with the resistance or American interests will cement their power, they are wrong.

Our lasting legacy in a 20 year war of occupation will not be American schools and hospitals, it will most definitely not be free and fair elections. But what we have left is a new generation that knows what freedom feels like. Young people who know there is a culturally conservative way to practice Islam, but also a rational reform way of practicing their religion. Young women who feel it is their God-given right to be educated.

And what makes our departure different from every other colonizing force in the past? The internet can be smuggled under an abaya in the palm of a woman’s hand.

A neighbor in VA was from Iran. She once told me that women would cover their fancy Western clothes with a big coat when they went to a wedding. Self-called morality censors on the street would never bother them, or maybe they were paid to look the other way. Coats would come off at the wedding venue and alcohol would be served. Where there’s a will….

The Bride and Grands collected toiletries for the Islamic Center of Nashville on 9/11. The Imam told us they are expecting to help relocate around a hundred Afghan families to middle Tennessee. Bob and I took off our shoes and toured the mosque while the kids played on the soft, padded carpeting.

Everyone was so friendly. It felt good, even cleansing to do this small mitzvah on the 20th anniversary of 9/11. The Hebrew word does not mean a “good deed,” it’s a bit more complicated.

The definition of mitzvah: “Mitzvah literally means “commandment.”  In fact, Jewish tradition understands exactly 613 mitzvot (plural of mitzvah) to be derived from the Hebrew Bible. The 613 are listed in Maimonides‘ Sefer Hamitzvot (Book of the Commandments), divided into “positive” (things one is required to do) and “negative” (things one may not do) commandments.”

I feel a positive charge in the Fall air, except for a certain legislator from West Virginia. Maybe Manchin is just a slow poke and he’ll see the light soon.

We gave the Love Bug a butterfly kit for her 9th birthday and she received her caterpillars last week. They’ll soon be emerging from their chrysalis to be released in their garden, joining the fuzzy bees tunneling into the outlandish, pink rose-of-sharon blooms.

Let’s hope that in the coming year all the anti-vaxxers and climate deniers, anti-semites and Islamaphobes find themselves overwhelmed by the hegemony of naturalists. By a love for the diversity of humans, animals and habitat.

Photo by Ola Maddams https://www.bbc.com/news/in-pictures-58327374

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Code RED

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , on August 9, 2021| 2 Comments »

It’s been RED hot in Nashville lately!

This past weekend, we hosted our very first “Music City Grand Prix.” Indycars raced through newly barricaded streets downtown and across the Korean Veterans bridge; and since this is Nashvegas, there were plenty of music venues in overflowing Broadway bars to boot! The race became more of a party, so locals pretty much stayed home. Fireworks kept Ms Bean in a constant state of panic.

The Frenchie pup, Watson, missed all the commotion since he was delivered back to his family of origin. I was sorry to see him go – I’d grown accustomed to his funny antics, shmushed face and heavy breathing. And unlike his elder sister Bean, he was excellent at keeping the squirrels away from the bird feeder.

This morning as I sat down at my desk, I watched a squirrel digging seeds out of the fairy tree stump with impunity. Then I read that a UN panel of scientific experts (IPCC) had issued a Code Red for humanity on Climate Change. If we do nothing about our fossil fuel addiction and continuing deforestation, the next decade will see the world becoming too hot, with more than a 3.6 degree Fahrenheit increase in temperature – making the Paris Agreement moot. John Kerry said:

“The impacts of the climate crisis, from extreme heat to wildfires to intense rainfall and flooding, will only continue to intensify unless we choose another course for ourselves and generations to come. What the world requires now is real action. All major economies must commit to aggressive climate action during this critical decade.”

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/leaders-activists-alarmed-not-surprised-by-climate-report/2021/08/09/08f1d632-f8fd-11eb-911c-524bc8b68f17_story.html

I thought about the Grands, coming of age during this critical time. The L’il Pumpkin doesn’t ask what happens when we die, he wants to know if the world will explode. These are the bedtime conversations of a 6 year old today. At least his school is not doing active shooter drills, yet. But wearing masks at school, washing hands, creating pods of safe spaces and people they can hug and hang out with is de rigueur.

Many scientists believe Covid is directly related to climate. As animals lose habitation due to development and deforestation, they come into closer contact with different animals, including people, allowing pathogens to jump the species barrier. https://www.hsph.harvard.edu/c-change/subtopics/coronavirus-and-climate-change/

When the Bride was in middle school, our society was being impacted by a different virus – HIV. I was concerned her generation might equate love and sex with death and dying. How does one navigate adolescence during a climate crisis in the Time of Covid? This Delta variant is devious. It’s turning the southeastern part of the US map a deep fire-engine RED; it’s putting more and more young children who are unable to be vaccinated at risk.

“It’s not just the adult hospital hitting some capacity limits. The Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt is also experiencing “record admissions,” though most of the surge is driven by a rare summer flare up of pediatric viral illnesses like RSV.

COVID cases in the children’s hospital remain in the single digits. But some children’s hospitals in the South have more COVID patients than ever. Louisiana, Arkansas and Alabama are dealing with more pediatric COVID patients in the hospital than at any point in the pandemic.”

https://wpln.org/post/vanderbilt-limiting-surgeries-again-as-covid-cases-fill-hospitals/

Vandy Children’s ER has had to “board” ventilated patients in the hallways because their PICU beds are full. Children.

Cooler Fall temperatures should be beckoning children back to school. It seems we are at a tipping point. Will we take the lead and care for each other, get vaccinated, mask up and limit our personal carbon imprint? Or will petulant adults and crazy legislators continue to scream about personal liberty? To criticize John Kerry for flying to President Obama’s birthday party on the Vineyard in a small plane? It sure beats driving and waiting for the ferry!

I think I’ll make a cup of tea, and try to stay cool and calm.

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Fire and Ice

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , on August 2, 2021| Leave a Comment »

My sister Kay reminded me of a Robert Frost poem, “Fire and Ice,” written in 1920 soon after the end of WWI. Supposedly, the poet was in a conversation with an astronomer about apocalyptic events – would the world end by the extinction of the sun, or by its explosion? Take heart, it’s not all doom and gloom.

I was telling Kay and Dr Jim about our thwarted house hunting plans – houses no sooner hit the market than they’re sold for 20+% over list – when she started to recite the classic poem. We’ve survived a tornado and a pandemic (so far) in Nashville; an earthquake in Charlottesville; and that ‘once every hundred year’ flood in Rumson.

We should be able to survive this real estate market, right?

Or just maybe the universe is telling us to look for that spectacular beach house somewhere in the world. Of course Bob Googled “most deadly natural disasters,” and guess what? Living in a red state wasn’t one of them, but topping the list was “HEAT!” Heat-related illness was the number one killer, wildfires were way down on the list.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44263/fire-and-ice

In 1920, Climate Change wasn’t really a thing. And in 1987, we never thought twice about living on the Shrewsbury River in Rumson. But doomsday scenarios have been recorded since time immemorial. In fact, 11,500 years ago in southern Turkey, humans carved a comet, smashing into the earth, onto pillars in a temple. I prefer not to think about extinction events; though I do love a good disaster movie.

If FIRE is a metaphor for love and desire, then ICE is a metaphor for hate and indifference. This Covid virus will only keep mutating if the world isn’t vaccinated enough to confer herd immunity. Anti-vaxxers and those who are just “waiting” for a sign I guess are pushing our odds of extinction… even those among the vaccinated who refuse to wear a mask again, are showing our indifference to woman/mankind! Because the vaccinated can spread the virus to unvaccinated children. You see where I’m going.

“Major children’s hospitals in Alabama, Arkansas, Louisiana and Florida—states that have been battling a broader increase in hospitalizations—all said this week they have more children in their care than at any other point in the pandemic.“

“Coronavirus-linked hospitalizations are up 50% from their previous peak at the Arkansas Children’s hospitals in Little Rock and Springdale, the hospitals’ chief clinical officer told CNN, deeming the 24 total pediatric patients housed at their facilities as of Wednesday (which includes seven in intensive care and two on ventilators) the “worst we’ve ever seen it for kids.”

https://www.forbes.com/sites/jemimamcevoy/2021/07/29/hospitals-in-southern-us-reporting-record-numbers-of-children-hospitalized-amid-delta-surge-though-deaths-still-extremely-rare/?sh=2b035b4f5f1e

The Bride’s family is vacationing in FL with the Groom’s family, and she tells me there’s barely a sign of mask-wearing at the local Publix supermarket. If you won’t get vaccinated for yourself, do it for your children and grandchildren. We are all ice skating on this river together. Don’t allow misinformation, superstition and conspiracy theories to win over science and reason.

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Meatless Monday

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , on April 12, 2021| Leave a Comment »

Herb plants are potted and vegetables are in the raised bed. I’ve added a new phlox to the garden and even sprinkled some flower pots about just for fun. As much as gardening is hard work, somehow this year I couldn’t wait to dig my hands in the dirt. And I’ll blame it on the Zoom Pilates, my body hardly suffered from all that bending and hoisting.

Which leads me to ask, what do you do just for fun?

I’m currently reading a book about fun by Annie F Downs; “THAT SOUNDS FUN” or The Joys of being an amateur, the power of falling in love, and why you need a hobby! The Grands and I did a quick trip through Parnassus Bookstore and I was drawn to the local author table. I rarely need to buy a book because of Bob’s monthly gift from the store’s signed first edition club, plus my family and friends revolving free library. But I was drawn to the title after this past pandemic year.

Fun can be big or small, it can be planned or spontaneous. For example, the Bride lets us know when she’s working a day shift and the Groom is in the Covid ICU. This is bound to be a wonderfully fun day for me because I get to puppy sit! I mean, who doesn’t love a puppy? Especially one with big pink ears who looks like Winston Churchill! In fact, today our little Frenchie is on the scene.

So gardening can be a chore, and puppy sitting could be an obligation, it just depends on your attitude. Like cooking, for instance.

I can honestly say that I used to adore cooking, especially for loved ones. It’s my “love language” I’ve been told. But EVERY single day, breakfast/lunch/dinner for a year, and usually just for the two of us… has become a bit mundane. And I like prepping and chopping and such solo, it’s meditative for me. But, since Bob has discovered sourdough, we have to work around each other in the kitchen.

If I’m doing Zoom Pilates in the morning, and I’ve figured out in my mind what’s for lunch and dinner – yes, food is often what I’m thinking about on the yoga mat – then I’m a happy camper. Last week I’d roasted a big pork loin and delivered it to the Groom because the Bride had an evening shift. He was happily surprised to have dinner delivered along with the above mentioned puppy. Then the next day the Bride told me the truth.

They are trying to go meatless for the month of April!

I mean the whole family has decided to tackle Climate Change by changing their diet. I did see it coming; the Love Bug loves pasta with butter, period, and has already delivered a speech to her class about making Mondays meatless in their cafeteria. Still, it was a shock. It was like my daughter telling me she had to stop ballet classes when she turned 10. It was interfering with her schoolwork!

This weekend the Bride made meatless meatballs with chickpeas that were kind of like falafel. And she suggested we join them on a Zoom call with their friends (other doctors and environmental lawyers) about the agricultural impact of Climate Change. We learned that often rain forests are clear cut to make way for cattle grazing – and the more cows and sheep we consume, the more methane these animals produce.

“…global greenhouse gas emissions will need to fall by 40% to 50% in the next decade. Scientists say the only way to achieve that reduction is to significantly increase the amount of land that’s covered in trees and other vegetation and significantly reduce the amount of methane and other greenhouse gases that come from raising livestock such as cows, sheep and goats.”

https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2019/08/08/748416223/to-slow-global-warming-u-n-warns-agriculture-must-change

Bob and I were not only intrigued, we were mortified. At least we are open to learning something new from our children. Ever since Bob turned 40 I’ve been trimming away red meat, making turkey meatballs for health reasons. Now, we can factor in a healthy planet for future generations. I only have two caveats – the production of cheese is considered to have a negative impact on the environment, and so is the farming of shrimp! These are two steps too far.

Tonight we’ll play Super Boggle and I’ll make veggie burgers just for fun.

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What’s Happening in Vegas?

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, Climate Change, Memoir, Public Policy, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on February 22, 2020| Leave a Comment »

A disaster happened when Bob and I first went to Vegas. It was December 10, 1992. I remember thinking I wanted to see the big rodeo that was happening right outside of town. I loved riding horses in summer camp and didn’t really gamble, and Bob doesn’t drink, so what’s to do? Plus, the big shows were mostly still in development. I had tagged along last minute for a 4 day medical conference and we had arranged for Bob’s secretary to mind the kids back home on the Jersey Shore.

When we woke up the next morning to a reporter on TV standing in floodwaters above his knees in Sea Bright, NJ, I started to panic. Our home was in Rumson, right across the drawbridge from that sand spit scattered with beach clubs and bars. The Shore was being pounded by a so-called “No Name Storm” because nobody saw it coming. We got through to the babysitter. She told us the painters had left? We had a group of Irish guys still painting the finished kitchen renovation and family room… we had just moved into the MidCentury Modern house in September.

“…the strong northeast portion of the nor’easter affected New Jersey for several days,[5] producing strong winds and record high tides.[14] Wind gusts reached 80 mph (130 km/h) in Cape May, which were the strongest winds in association with the storm. Sustained winds were around 30 mph (48 km/h) in the region.[2] High winds in Atlantic City destroyed the windows of storefronts.[15] Along the Jersey coast, the nor’easter produced waves of up to 25 ft (7.6 m) in height.[2] About 25 mi (40 km) offshore Long Branch, waves reached heights of 44 ft (13 m).[“

But it wasn’t the waves that worried us, it was the high tide that came right into our house from the Shrewsbury River. This was the 100 year flood our realtor had told us about and luckily we had flood insurance. But I wasn’t worrying about the house, I wanted to get back to my children, the Bride was 13 and the Rocker was 8. All of the NY Metro area airports were closed.

You can see why I have mixed feelings about Vegas. Most of you know the rest of this story – the fireman friend who rescued the kids, the reunion a few days later when flights started up again. We returned to Vegas once, after the kids were grown, and I still felt slightly disoriented. The fake Eiffel Tower. The huge Cirque du Soleil shows. We managed to stay at Mandalay Bay where you could sit on a fake beach. My only respite was booking a Canyon Ranch spa day.

I was thinking about the Mandalay Bay during the disastrous Democratic debate this week in Vegas. It sits at the far end of the Strip, and was the epicenter of one of the worst mass shootings in our country’s history; 58 people killed and 850 injured at a country music festival. In September of 2017, JUST 3 YEARS AGO, a 64 year old maniac checked into that hotel with a garrison of weapons (23 guns and thousands of rounds of ammunition) and because he was such a good customer, the hotel gave him his room for free. https://www.businessinsider.com/timeline-shows-exactly-how-the-las-vegas-massacre-unfolded-2018-9

One of the candidates mentioned, in an aside, that Bernie had been protecting gun manufacturers, but it was immediately glossed over. Was it Biden? Why didn’t the moderators manage to bring up this public health epidemic that kills 100 people a day in this country…how can you talk about healthcare and NOT go there?

Soon we will know what Nevada thinks about the front-runners. Did Elizabeth resurrect her campaign by going after the Trump stand-in (Bloomberg)? Is Mayor Pete actually relatable and not an automaton? Do you think Bernie, an angry, old man, can beat Trump? And did Amy seal her fate by trying to speak in Spanish? I don’t have to have a beer with somebody to know if they’re authentic, smart and competent.

When flood waters rush in, I only have to know if you’ll be there with sand bags, and hot chocolate.  IMG_7182

 

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#2019inFiveWords

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, tagged , , , , , , on December 28, 2019| Leave a Comment »

This morning, I awoke to a Tweet from Greta Thurnberg, the teenage Climate Activist from Sweden. This was her answer to #2019inFiveWords:

“Our house is on fire.”

You’ve got to admit, this young lady is consistent. She didn’t say the “Climate” is on fire, or the “Planet,” she said, “OUR HOUSE!” If I found my actual house was on fire, I’d pick up that little red fire extinguisher we keep in the kitchen and have at it. I’d dial 911. I’d clear all the people and pets out, maybe I’d take some family pictures. But come to think of it, most have been digitized, so I’d pick up my laptop. If I had the time that is…

Greta is trying to tell us this is personal. We shouldn’t get distracted with Impeachment Hearings when a true existensial crisis is looming. HA, I looked up how to spell the word cause I’d obviously misspelled it, and it just so happens that “EXISTENTIAL” is the 2019 “Word of the Year” at Dictionary.com:

adjective

of or relating to existence:Does climate change pose an existential threat to humanity?

 

I believe it does pose a threat; it keeps great minds awake at night. It creates actual floods since our seas are rising, polar ice is melting, and human floods of refugees seeking peace and a sustainable livelihood. Fires are killing koalas in Australia and decimating forest canopies in the Amazon. Our literal house, our whole world is suffering, and we have a President who mocks science, scoffs at facts, and jokes about windmills.

Our country has become a joke on the world stage.

And speaking of the world, our children have flown off to tropical locales for the New Year. And I know about the carbon imprint of air travel, but honestly, how else can we get anywhere? Sailing across the ocean like Greta would have used up literally ALL of their vacation time. So we must fight for the Climate while also doing what we can to take care of ourselves; putting the oxygen mask on the adults first so to speak. Which leads me to my five words:

Family almost always comes first. 

I’ve added a quantifier to my usual motto about family, “almost.” Women are more likely to be the caregivers in a family, to be the 3 am on-duty nurse, the round-the-clock scheduler, the chauffeur and chief cook. Yes, some things have changed since we raised our girls without limits and with great expectations. But some things have remained the same.

This past year I’ve learned to say “No” more often. I’ve figured out that self-care isn’t a sin, it’s a necessity. Our generation isn’t just in the middle of a sandwich – anthropologists like to call us “The Sandwich Generation” – I’ve felt like I’m in a “Club Sandwich.” Pile on the meat and cheese please, we are drowning in obligatory exercises of futility. And of course, this time of year doesn’t help.

What does help is JOMO (Joy of Missing Out), which is the opposite of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out):

Kristen Fuller said “JOMO” is essentially the “emotionally intelligent antidote to FOMO” and it is “about being present and being content with where you are at in life.” Some people are born with it, others learn to embrace it.” https://www.insider.com/what-is-jomo-2018-7

So my #2019inFiveWords is not just about setting boundaries and caring for myself, something btw the nuns wouldn’t approve of, but it’s also about saying I’m Enough! For a number 9 Enneagram that’s a tough road to walk. Right here, right now I can be happy! I was strolling with Bob and Ms Bean yesterday, who has fully recovered from her near fatal illness, listening to the birds and feeling the warm winter sun on my face, when Bob said, “Where should we go in 2020?”

And I may have been a teensy bit short with him. Virginia Woolf once said, “You cannot find peace by avoiding life.” But maybe in 2020, we’ll not only impeach, but convict and remove Mr T from office. Maybe we’ll stop chasing windmills and avoiding Climate Change. And I just may continue to embrace this ever-changing town I’m calling home. Even if it doesn’t have a Chinese restaurant open on Christmas day.

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A Rough Patch

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, Climate Change, tagged , , , , , , , on December 5, 2019| Leave a Comment »

This morning I came across an article about the old Mid-Life Crisis, for our kids’ generation. It’s not what Boomers would consider a crisis – you don’t leave your wife and children, lose 20 pounds and buy a Porsche. It’s a more nuanced place, when today’s 40-50 year old couple hits the pinnacle of their careers, they have two kids and two dogs and maybe a Peloton in the family room. But they wake up one morning wondering if they could have had more, or done something differently.

Taffy Brodesser-Akner writes eloquently about today’s rough patch in her book Fleishman is in Trouble.  https://forge.medium.com/welcome-to-the-new-midlife-crisis-6ad07840a503

“First, the people who reported having an age-related crisis in their forties or fifties were also highly likely to have reported dissatisfaction or anxiety in their younger years as well. If you are besieged with self-doubt at midlife, in other words, it is most likely not your first existential rodeo.

And second, the stereotypical midlife crisis is a luxury. No more than 10% to 20% of middle-aged people go through one,… It takes privilege to chuck everything and start anew.”

I always told Bob he’s not allowed to have a Mid-Life Crisis because he went to Woodstock, and really, enough is enough. We’ve weathered lots of storms, moves to different states, rebellious teens, Bob’s back, shoulder and neck surgeries, and even my bout with West Nile. Talk about an existential crisis.

I had to smile the other night when John Meacham asked a group of scholars “What keeps you up at night?”

“Viruses,” Carl Zimmer said!

Zimmer was the most entertaining panelist, a journalist who writes about science and even has a tapeworm named after him! He has written many books and currently writes the column, “MATTER” for the New York Times.

Bob reminded me, in that Vanderbilt auditorium surrounded by really old people and really, really young students (presumably because mid-lifers were home putting their kids to bed), that Zimmer was the son of a former Representative from our old district in NJ. “Carl Zimmer’s father is Dick Zimmer, a Republican politician from New Jersey, who was a member of the U.S. House of Representatives from 1991 to 1997.”

I thought about our home in Rumson, NJ, about living on a tributary with a tide ebbing and flowing into our backyard, and mosquitoes. Lots and lots of mosquitoes.

I was writing for The Two River Times then, I was Forty-Something. And if you’ve been following me for awhile you know where this is going.  I like to think my tiny column for the paper helped to unseat the elder Zimmer after he voted to allow the Assault Weapon Ban to expire. I asked my readers how he could look at himself in the mirror every morning.

The Vanderbilt Chancellor’s Lecture Series was addressing, “2020 and Beyond: Tackling Global Issues in the Decades to Come.”  Most of the conversation onstage was about Climate Change. Meacham began with, “Are facts out of fashion?” The other two academics pointed out that OUR very own EPA Climate Change web page has been erased! If you search for it you’ll find a notice that says, “The information you are looking for is not here” and you are directed to the archives!!

How can we address Climate Change or viruses when we have a Climate Denier in the White House? How can we possibly reduce global greenhouse gases by 50% in 15 years?

2020 will be a “Rough Patch” for our country. But I believe in good journalism and our Constitution. Facts are funny things that will take down Republicans seen lying on TV, lying and obfuscating all week at the Impeachment Hearings – “Clouding real facts with a miasma of falsity,” the Vandy Writer-in-Residence said.

George Washington helped us forge this great nation, and Abraham Lincoln helped heal our still seeping wound of slavery. A Leader will appear to guide us through this collective Mid-Life Crisis. I have to believe as Brodesser-Akner said about mid-life:

“To mature is to accept one’s role as both a person with pain and one with strength to endure it. It is the ability to say to oneself or to those we love: I see you. I hear you. I will sit here with you until it passes, as all things must.

The view out my kitchen window of our hawk in the city.

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226 Days of GOLF

Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country, Public Policy, science, tagged , , , , , , on September 6, 2019| Leave a Comment »

I married a man, a doctor no less, who HATES golf. I’ve tried sweet talking him out, into the open air of a country club, to hit a “birdie” or a “bogey” or anything, just to give it a try, but nope, not happening, never, ever. He would always say he sees no reason to follow a tiny ball around a vast, grass wasteland, even if driving a golf cart might be fun.

On the other hand, we now have a President who cancelled a trip to Poland, then ventured out to his branded and manicured golf course – all while Hurricane Dorian raged – to “chip” away at his “links.” On the last day of his third August in the White House, this was Mr T’s 226th day of GOLF!

What happens when an ace journalist, Susan Glasser, collects the mega data of 3 years of AUGUST Tweets from our Golfer-in-Chief? You get a compelling picture of the escalating and devolving speech process (and therefore thought process) of a presidency that resembles a hurricane, even without an enhanced Sharpie diagram!

Mr T has gone from a Category 1 to a 5 faster than a toddler can disintegrate into tears because… well, pick a reason.

Trump not only makes us believe it now but, as we approach the three-year mark of his upset victory, in 2016, his project has succeeded in such a confounding way that it seems as though Americans will now believe anything—and nothing at all. Today there are few things too extreme not to have plausibly come out of the mouth, or the Twitter feed, of the forty-fifth President. In August, Trump called himself the “Chosen One” for his confrontation with China, grinned and flashed a thumbs-up during a photo op with the family of mass-shooting victims, accused Jews who voted for Democrats of “great disloyalty,” and called the chairman of the Federal Reserve an “enemy” of the United States. He cheered the robbery of a Democratic congressman’s home and labelled various critics “nasty and wrong,” “pathetic,” “highly unstable,” “wacko,” “psycho,” and “lunatic,” among other insults. The daily stream of invective was dizzying to keep track of, and so voluminous as to almost insure that no one could, in fact, do so.

https://www.newyorker.com/news/letter-from-trumps-washington/trumps-wacky-angry-and-extreme-august-twitter

And is that the point, if he has a point? To create so much havoc, to take funds away from building schools for military personnel in order to build his border wall, to propose the next G7 happen at his Doral property? To reframe the American Dream in a thought bubble of nonsense? His helicopter summits elicit hyperbole rather than any real “Breaking News.” The number of times he has insulted a perceived adversary has multiplied threefold in the past three Augusts!

No wait, the number of direct insults from Mr T’s Twitter fingers went from 14 his first August to 52 last month! His list of humiliating monikers reads like a middle school diary: “Lunatic; “Crazy;” “Psycho;” “Pathetic;” and “Sleepy.”

The irony of listening to Democrats speak out about Climate Change while Trump, our Climate-Denier-in-Chief, played golf (as Dorian destroyed the Bahamas) was not lost on me. And the one thing the GOP picked out of CNN’s excellent environmental summit was that Bernie Sanders linked population control to Global Warming and therefore he wants less brown babies?!!

This is a real existential crisis, it is not a joke and it is NOT about straws, or plastic bags, or birth control. Our leadership must first accept science and enlist the rest of the world in its multifaceted solution if we actually want to save our planet, let alone our species.

We need a “Mulligan” I’m afraid. Or we could take a cake decorating class with our American Girl Doll?

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