Response to Christine's Questions

Question 2: As I read Hot, Flat, and Crowded I feel a sense of data suffocation: there are literally too many facts, authorities, statistics, anecdotes, and connections for me to process. How does this method of data-dumping and information-overload help and/or hurt Friedman's ethos? Provide an example from the book to support your argument.

Response: Reading this text was much like a rollercoaster ride with climactic rises, dips, turns, dizzying drops and a deep breath of relief at the end. Following the text a read of the acknowledgements gives a strong indication of the means by which Friedman was able to present so much information in such a compact volume. It seems that this is a book meant to be consumed in small doses, the information reflected upon, before the reader goes back for more.

Until I heard Dr. Coffey, I did not share Friedman's final optimism, with the thinking that, in light of the data presented, the future would probably be very dark, if there would be a future at all. I had gravitated toward the pessimism of Mike Davis (Ecology of Fear), whom Friedman cites, and Alan Weisman (The World Without Us). However, Dr. Coffey, while acknowledging the climatological difficulties we face, presented solid evidence that we have the potential for continuation in a sustainable manner, countering the pessimism in favor of mild optimism.


Question 4: Based on Dr. Coffey's talk and Friedman's scary statistics on global warming . . . I am pretty certain that we are doomed. but, I was given some hope by two things: Dr. Coffey's faith in our ability to "leapfrog" with new technology and cleaner alternatives and the suggestion that scientists and the media have "interfaces" that can mediate information and make for a better informed public. . . . .

Response: A letter to Donella Meadows, whose eulogy is printed at the end of the text (411-412):

Dear Dr. Meadows,

For years I read your columns in Catalyst, alternating between hope and despair at what humans, particularly in the developed portions of the world, had accomplished in despoiling the earth, especially in developing nations and some sections of the US, in the name of progress and economic gain.

In the early 1990s, the monthly published "If the World were 100 People," which put the global village in perspective. You indicated that we all are neighbors and must acknowledge that fact and behave accordingly. The village is comprised of a population where some have much and others virtually nothing. We are diverse, and yet have so much in common. If we are to continue the village, we must take care of each other and make sure all have what we need to survive and thrive, including clean, safe water.

You later updated the message in your "State of the Village Report," expanding the village to 1000 people, showing a declining woodland, growing wasteland, increasing pollution from human actions and the perils of nuclear weaponry and waste. The message took on great urgency, but left room for mitigation, if and only if, we of the village would heed the wisdom of the responsiblity of caring sustainably for each other and for the village.

After depending on your wisdom for the years your column ran, I still mourn your passing.

In pacem,
Linda


Reference:

http://catalystmagazine.net/
http://www.100people.org/
http://www.sustainer.org/

Response to Christine's Question #4

4. I want you to position yourself as an interface delivering a message on an environmental “leapfrog” (real or pretend). Here is the scenario: you are a reporter of some type (newspaper, online blog, weather girl/boy, etc) who has a short amount of time to present the leapfrog and provide just a few interesting facts on it. You need to consider who your audience is, what your ultimate message is, and how to make the biggest impact in this short amount of time.

Make a video, write a new brief, or maybe write up a dialogue. The options are endless.

(Based on the technology mentioned in this article: “Sun and sand breed Sahara solar power” at http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn19785-sun-and-sand-breed-sahara-solar-power.html)

Me: Hello, and welcome back to Cathy’s online radio talk show, purveyor of two-minute technology talks since November 2010! Today we have with us Dr. Hideomi Koinuma of the Sahara Solar Breeder Project, a collaboration between universities in Japan and Algeria. This project aims to build a series of self-perpetuating solar plants in the Sahara Desert, with the hope of building enough solar power stations by 2050 to supply 50 percent of the world’s energy. Dr. Koinuma, will you please tell us more about your project?

Dr. Koinuma: Thank you for inviting me to your show! My group is working on the premise of “breeding” clean energy. Our plan is to build a small number of silicon manufacturing plants along the edge of the Sahara Desert, taking advantage of large amounts of silica in the area. These plants will manufacture solar panels out of sand from the desert. These solar panels will then be set up in solar farms inside the Sahara and used to generate electricity. We’ll then sell the electricity in order to finance the construction of additional silicon manufacturing plants. These plants will produce more solar panels, which will help set up more farms, which will produce more electricity, which will in turn generate more money for more manufacturing plants. The cycle will continue until we have enough manufacturing plants and solar farms in the Sahara to supply, hopefully, up to 50 percent of the world’s energy needs!

Me: That sounds great, Dr. Koinuma! If this idea really takes off, there won’t be any need to build dirty coal-fired plants in Africa—all the continent’s burgeoning energy needs can be met using renewable solar energy, without taking up agricultural land or requiring expensive imported equipment. Let’s hope this enables Africa to “leap-frog” into energy plenitude without requiring destructive mining or polluting power plants in order to get there!

Response to (My) Question #1

For the second time since we have lived in our West Mesa neighborhood, someone has destroyed our block’s transformer box and knocked the electricity off the grid for hours. Last time this happened was during the dog days of summer, which meant no lights, no refrigeration, no television, and no air conditioner. This time we are on the brink of winter, with temperatures in the 20s tonight, and again with no lights, no refrigeration, no television, and no heater. And no internet. And no automatic garage door opener. But I digress.

Basically, my family and I are once again without the conveniences of electricity. And this comes, strangely enough, during a time, mostly in the last week or so, where I have been obsessing over electricity. Reading Friedman and Suzuki started my obsession, and then it was furthered by my FLC (the 101 Freshman Learning Community I teach) schooling me on these bombs that, when detonated, somehow completely disable anything electric within a certain amount of miles of the detonation site. If I had the internet I could google what these bombs are called and the basics on how they work, but, alas, I am powerless…powerless without Google.

Anyways, my electricity fascination deepened in San Angelo over Thanskgiving break while I drank a few Keystones with my father on the back porch of his house. He is a small business owner whose business is, to make a long and complicated story short, to broker electricity deals for West Texas residents and businesses. Texas has what is called the “power to choose” electric providers; so, unlike here where PNM is the end all be all of electric company choices, Texas has many different providers, some legitimate and awesome and others not so much, vying for customers. My father associates himself with a few legitimate and awesome companies and helps them build customer bases. At first I thought of it as something similar to a pyramid scheme, but it turns out it is a brilliant niche in the “Power to Choose” initiative.

So, as we sipped and/or chugged our Keystones, I was telling my father about my Environmental Rhetoric class and he was giving me his opinion on the one area of our work that really caught his attention, electricity, and more specifically, blackouts, brownouts, third world countries, and coal versus wind power. It dawned on me as he spoke that he was the small business owner that is mentioned in the opening blurb of Hot, Flat, and Crowded. He is the “Average Joe” of middle-class America with the potential to make some seriously important moves regarding sustainable sources of power.

But, as it typically goes with beer-fueled conversations with my father, he was on the conservative offense and I was on the liberal defense. So, I left him my (one and only) copy of Hot, Flat, and Crowded with a very clear warning that I was not trying to convert him to the dark side of liberalism, but only trying to give him some access to some other conversations on topics that he was already well versed in.

So, as I lay here tonight, typing by the light of my battery powered laptop, I feel my electricity-obsession coming together in some sort of cosmic joke/inconvenient warning. My food is spoiling, my children are going stir crazy without Black Ops and Netflix, and I am mulling over life without electricity. My thoughts thus far? I prefer central heat and air to bundling up in blankets. I prefer lamplight to candlelight. And I think that the windmills of West Texas are an amazingly beautiful sight with some extraordinary potential, which I think is one thing my father and I can definitely agree on. Also, I am scared to death of that electricity-depleting bomb. That is some scary stuff right there. And one last thought, I really hope my father is reading Hot, Flat, and Crowded and letting Friedman’s ideas percolate, clash with, and meld with his ideas and expertise in electricity.

Response to Christine's Question #2

2. As I read Hot, Flat, and Crowded I feel a sense of data suffocation: there is literally too many facts, authorities, statistics, anecdotes, and connections for me to process. How does this method of data-dumping and information-overload help and or hurt Friedman’s ethos? Provide an example from the book to support your argument.

I think that data-dumping hurts Friedman’s ethos by drowning readers with so many examples that no individual story stands out as an emblem or inspiration. By the end of Hot, Flat, and Crowded I felt like I’d read some convincing anecdotes, but when I stopped to think about them I couldn’t remember any single one of them in detail—they all kind of blurred together in my head. For instance, I think I remember Friedman talking about villagers helping protect a nearby forest with orangutans in it—or was it the imam who did that? No, wait, I think the imam was from a different village that had issues with mining pollution coming downstream. Or maybe it was an imam saving orangutans from mining pollution upstream. Or something like that. All Friedman’s cool little stories merge together into an indeterminate saving-the-world stew by the end of the book. I don’t have a clear image to latch onto to really “crystallize” any of his ideas. I can’t go up to someone and recite a convincing anecdote because I don’t remember any of them clearly. Conversely, in a book like Crossing Open Ground, individual events seemed better-defined. I clearly remember the story about the beached whales and would feel confident recounting it to someone else. That story will stick with me longer than any of Friedman’s examples will, no matter how true or useful they are. Maybe it’s like an art gallery: a story elaborated on and displayed in isolation is like a work of art in a gallery surrounded by white space. The very layout makes you stop and stare at the exhibit and remember it. Conversely, examples dumped in rapid succession are like a hundred finger-paintings plastered on a wall at a school. You know they’re there but you never remember any one in particular, and none of them seems super-important or worth lingering over and reflecting on. They’re just decoration.

The feeling of blurring is particularly bad when Friedman’s data collides with his detailed descriptions of hypothetical situations. Human memory tends to hold on to chunks of information but not include their sources. For instance, I remember that Friedman made some good points about electric companies, but his actual data are blurred together in my mind with his over-long “20 E.C.E.” story. So I remember stuff about car garages that sell cars’ electricity back into the grid as needed—but is that fact, or fiction? Has that technology actually been developed and put into use, or was Friedman extrapolating likely developments in the future? I now feel like I can’t use any of his examples in my own arguments because I can’t always remember if they came from a dataset, an extrapolation, or from pure speculation. I don’t want to accidentally suggest that someone try out a “Green Friends and Family Plan” if it doesn’t actually exist yet! I think this is unfortunate, because I know Friedman did his homework and I’m pretty sure his data is good—but if I can’t remember what that data is, or separate it from speculation, I can’t use it to convince other people, and it loses its persuasive power.

HW response to Christine's Question #3

NY Times Article: "An Almanac of Weird Weather"

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/28/opinion/28hedin.html?scp=1&sq=hedin&st=cse

I have the utmost respect for the individuals and families who take on the task of farming to provide their own, as well as a portion of our nation’s food supply because of the incredible amount of energy, time, and passion such endeavors require. Jack Hedin is a Minnesota farmer who operates a fair-trade, 100-acre organic farm. His Op-ed piece in Sunday’s New York Times resonated with me, not only because the integrity of his beliefs regarding farming, climate, and his own complicity in contributing a large amount of carbon emissions, but simply for his willingness to share his ideas and experiences and address the issue of climate change from his own individual perspective.

In The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Dillard asked us to “see”: “The pearl of seeing is, then, the pearl of great price” (Ch 2). Lopez, in Crossing Open Ground, reminded us about awe, mystery, and connection: “By broadening our sense of the intrinsic worth of life and by cultivating respect for other ways of moving towards perfection, we may find a sense of resolution we have been looking for, I think, for centuries” (204). Leopold and Carson asked us to consider ethical responses to our use of the land and of our behavior in natural environments and the creatures in them. Friedman provided detailed analysis and offered multiple potentially workable solutions to environmental problems. Suzuki reminded us that there is a basis and connection to nature that we should not ignore, that science is able to operate in context with human needs and desires to help us better connect, or reconnect, with the intrinsic and extrinsic elements that are the essence of life. Stephen Mather’s energy brought business people and congress members into acceptance and appreciation of natural, sacred spaces that belong to everyone in the country.

A writer or any individual, who from the base of her or his own uniquely qualified perspective makes the effort to add to and broaden the discussion of environmental issues and climate change, does important work. More of this work needs to be done. The positions of environmental writers, the findings of climate scientists and biologists, the experiences of citizens who add their voice to the conversation on environment and climate, as well as those who educate and comment on these issues need to continue to find a way to become a part of mainstream dialogue as long as people continue to believe that these are issues that are important. It is the energy of individuals who are aware of the consequences of their privilege and who respond through writing, speech, or action that will ultimately make the difference. The stories need to keep coming.

Two Rants in Response to Deb's Question Three (long.)

At the end of the article on the coyote killings, “Hunters Flock To Small Town for Fundraising Event,” the Albuquerque Journal reports that, “Mackechnie Chapman said she objects to the idea that the kids involved in hunting are being taught to kill. She said they know the difference between hunting to manage predators and wanton killing.”

If I’d been eating anything while reading that, I would have choked on it. Why? Well, because the entire article has been about sport-killing coyotes in order to sponsor a girls’ athletics program—it hasn’t been about managing the coyote population. The references to the coyotes as nuisances that kill livestock and destroy crops come across more as excuses to kill than as reasons for actually having an organized campaign to control the coyote population, which, in case it didn’t seem obvious to you, a killing contest is not. And, the Albuquerque Journal lets this woman get away with the last word on it—she calls it “managing predators” rather than “wanton killing” and the Journal doesn’t even appear to question this! And the Journal posits the only issue with the killings as the possibility that kids are being taught to kill, but doesn’t even go after the fact that this ISN’T wildlife management by any stretch of the imagination. This is the definition of wanton killing. This is sport killing. And the irony that it’s to support a girls’ sports program isn’t funny. It’s chilling. And for one final point that just really got to me—the Journal doesn’t even question the fact that the girls’ sports program relies on this kind of activity for monetary support. Presumably the boys' athletics are already fully supported without the need for the coyote hunt? Presumably there isn’t any other money in public schools to fund either education on conservation or sports? Apparently not. Ugh. I’m disgusted, not only with the practice, but especially with the Journal’s lame reporting on the issue.

This brings me to what I was thinking about when I was reading Deb’s question (3) and the other two articles posted. Let’s see if I can get all of this out in an order that makes sense.

Suzuki argues we need to change our understanding of, and our relationship to, the earth and ourselves, or else we won’t be able (or willing) to make the changes in our own lives that might lead to real change. Suzuki asks a lot, I think, of those who don’t already feel somewhat convinced that something is wrong with our unrelenting capitalist pursuit of more stuff and more stuff and more stuff.

Friedman makes up the gap, slightly, by making an economic and national security argument for dealing with climate change/global warming on a massive scale. His argument seems less “frou frou” somehow, in spite of the fact that Suzuki makes arguments based in hard science—everything from evolutionary biology to psychology to soil chemistry appears in The Sacred Balance to shore up the argument, after all. But Friedman’s argument appears to be based in the American desire to consume, and while he still advocates consuming less, he doesn’t outright say, hey, you have to change your individual orientation to everything around you in order to do this (even though I think that’s what his argument, taken to its logical conclusion, would entail).

Perhaps Doug Fine is the one who really helps to reach out to that segment of the population that is ALWAYS going to refuse to give up creature comforts, and won’t do anything unless it can be sold as EASY and compatible with consumerism and other bad American habits.

But Suzuki, Friedman, and Fine, as persuasive as I can see that they are to particular populations, don’t do anything to sway the John Boehners and the Darrell Issas of the world, who for some reason have an investment (monetary? moral?) in denying climate change (and, apparently, in actually going after scientists). So, who can reach those people? I think that we need the Pope and Billy Graham to issue a joint statement saying that they believe in climate change before those on the religious right or who use religion to deny the reality of climate science will be swayed in any direction. I don’t know that the rest of the potential rhetors in the world could muster the ethos to convince the non-believers to change the way they see the world and the climate. By the same token, if there is a swell of religious leaders who speak up about climate change and who make it the moral obligation of their congregations to be educated about the issue, then perhaps there could be some change. And if that happened and then Boehner and Issa and all other climate change detractors continue ranting against the scientists, their allegiances may be revealed as something other than a particular (odd) moral persuasion.

This is why I feel a real need to resist any attacks on the teaching of evolution or other “controversial” science in schools. We need to make sure that children are educated and capable of thinking critically not just about science, but also about the rhetoric surrounding the science.

Obama's climate agenda shifts as GOP takes over House

http://usat.me/132773

PseudoBlog Post

from my questions, option #4.

here is my rhetorical situation: i am a contributor to an enviromental-issue blog, maybe something like an offshoot of NPR or the Huffington Post. bascially, a blog with an aware, empathetic, and liberal readership. as a contributor, i envisioned myself as a girl who cares about these issues but with no real training, no real authority, and no real agenda. I was simply struck by the potential for One Laptop per Child on the push for education about environmental issues and inspired to write...

It is simple: provide one laptop per child; one rugged, durable, wireless-ready, energy-efficient laptop to kids in some of the world’s poorest places. From Birmingham, Alabama to Ulaanbaatar Mongolia, school-aged children are being provided access to knowledge previously unknown and inaccessible to them. And what may come from this knowledge? This connection to the world?

Well, from an environmentalist perspective, the potential that these children have with the knowledge they are poised to gain from becoming inter-connected with the world could mean the difference between that spark of genius and empathy being ignited in the next Edward Abbey or Rachel Carson or that talent remaining latent or, worse, lost.

The children that OLPC serves are children who still depend on the land to nourish them, physically and in some parts of the world, spiritually. In Ferreñafe, Peru the school children are learning about their sacred Pómac Forest from their village elders as well as the World Wide Web. They are given the opportunity to walk the ancient trails and witness the brilliance of their ancestral Sican irrigation system and then go to class the next day and view these same trails and irrigation lines from space using Goggle Maps. Essentially, these children are applying an epistemology of environmental learning not seen in most modern, developed countries; an epistemology that privileges synthesis of old and new, of concrete and abstract, and of a connectedness to the earth that transcends subsistence.

OLPC has a mission: to educate. Go to their website (http://laptop.org/en/) for more info, to make a donation, or to link with your own blog. We need to start thinking environmentally beyond ourselves to those human beings who will have the power to continue spreading our world-health message. This is one initiative with massive potential.

Field Exercise Log #3 - Bernalillo Farmers Market

<< I just realized I made one long blog entry with photos for all three of our field exercises ... thought I should separate and expand a bit ... here is the last of 3>>

The Bernalillo market is an entirely temporary space, constructed solely by the cooperation of the participants as they follow market rules and established market practices. The rules are not explicit to customers – market rules are generally only ever looked at by new vendors as they complete an application to be allowed to participate in a market.

The physical space - a parking lot – where the market is held would otherwise be devoid of meaning to a visitor on a day when the market is not being held. Though I believe it is a lot designated specifically for the market, I noticed nothing that would prevent its use as a lot for just about anything. Nothing there, about the lot itself, struck me as being uniquely farmer-y. The people and purpose construct the space, and definition and exercise of that space, on market days. Other than the signs put up for the market itself (when it is being held), there is nothing that would identify the location as an actual destination. Meaning is imparted by the social construction of a “farmers market”. Most farmers markets are like this – they are held in spaces that are usually parking lots, or elementary soccer fields, or even empty lots in towns.

Farmers, I guess, tend to be pretty innovative and use whatever comes along – including whichever parking lot seems to work best for their purpose: to provide fresh produce to the less fortunate who are unable to farm and grow themselves. The customers at the market tend to follow the farmers’ lead by parking in a sensible space off the corner, moving in an orderly fashion up and down the aisles of vendors, bringing small change (farmers rarely have large bills for change) and their own bags when possible. Ethos is created collaboratively. Pathos of the experience is, too, create collaboratively and by consensus at the farmers market – farmers and customers alike are there to share information, meet interesting people, sell (farmers), buy healthy produce (customers), and enjoy the laid-back and forward-thinking atmosphere of the farmers market.

And that construction by the participants created the most welcoming atmosphere (to me) of the places we visited. Of course, a lot of that probably had to do with my own personal sense of comfort from many years participating in markets myself.

The Bern market also had the richest diversity of sounds of all the spaces we visited - heavy traffic on the road, voices bartering prices and exchanging info, the crinkle of plastic and paper bags being opened and filled for customers, visitors' tires crunching on the gravel.

Field Exercise Log #2 - Jemez Hot Springs

<< I just realized I made one long blog entry with photos for all three of our field exercises ... thought I should separate and expand a bit ... here is the second of 3>>

The “wild” Jemez hot spring – as contrasted with the municipal bath-house in the town itself – is a spring, an “ojo” in Spanish, located along the road between the Valles Caldera and the town of Jemez springs. It is less consistently and permanently occupied than the Caldera and is used differently by a different public. Visitors to the Jemez hot spring park on the highway or in a (currently under renovation – looks like it had some wash-out from storms) pull-off on the side of the road, hike down a fairly well-developed trail to the river, cross on a very sturdy footbridge (looks to have been installed by a governmental agency, its concrete, metal, and sawn planks), and head up the hill.
The uphill climb on the far side of the river is less accommodating to hikers, with gnarled roots, steep and slick areas, and heavy vegetative growth in most areas. Leading up into the ojo itself (the soaking pools) the trail still looks ancient, with rough-hewn stones, about 8-12" square-ish, built into the side of the hill as stairs. Some of the "stairs" are even living tree roots - it has the feel of climbing to a forest temple, up the stone stairs, to the altar. Very cool. The soaking pool itself is about 7’x12’ in size and maybe 3.5’ deep at its deepest point - and warm (maybe 100 degrees), tho not hot as it was when I was last there 17 years ago. I recall it being quite hot (about 105) and this has been confirmed by other hot-spring-frequenters recently – the pool is definitely cooler now. I recall there was a hotter, smaller pool up the hill farther but we had neither the time nor inclination to hike uphill more.
The space has clearly been used by humans for decades, if not hundreds, of years (maybe longer?) but it is understood to be a public space and seems to be respected as such. I have the impression that the space has been, and indeed IS currently, physically constructed by consensus among visitors to the ojo (spring) - there is no concerted management evident on the far side of the river - the little bit of concrete between some of the rocks at the spring looks to be from different batches, possibly brought up by hand by conscientious visitors caring for the space - the style and workmanship is distinct from the measured and professional workmanship of the government-issue trials and fences and benches on the near side.
I wonder who cares for the springs? Is it a concerted or individual effort? Are the efforts ever made explicit in text or conversation? Or is the maintenance performed by understanding, by individuals noticing what needs done and taking care of it competently?

Field Exercise Log #1 - Valles Caldera Preserve

<< I just realized I made one long blog entry with photos for all three of our field exercises ... thought I should separate and expand a bit ... here is the first of 3>>

The Caldera Preserve is a 95K acre ancient volcanic crater comprised of coniferous forest and high altitude grassland, located at about 7800’ elevation in north-central NM. Hwy 4 runs through the southern portion of the Caldera, taking travelers from Los Alamos to the village of Jemez Springs through the Bandelier National Forest.
My greatest impression of the day is that the Valles Caldera Nat'l Preserve, which looks the most remote, untouched, and "wild" is, in fact, the most highly managed, occupied space of the three sites visited. I’ve driven through the Caldera at least annually for 18 years and have always judged by its appearance that it is untouched wilderness or, at most, grazing land in the bottom of the valley. There’s far more to it ….
What is now the Preserve was held, and used/abused by private logging and ranching interests for most of the 20th century (it was originally a land grant and was subsequently sold to private owners). It was purchased by the US government about 10 years ago and is now a federal preserve. No one lives on the preserve itself but the multiple layers of management, administration, and use make the land the most highly managed of the three locales. The construction of space, definition of place, at the preserve is definite, explicit (in text and in verbal presentation by tour guide Carmen), and voluminous. History of use and occupation of the property is well-preserved and the current management of and research regarding watershed, geothermal activity, species management, and restoration is extensive.
Preserve management is well-documented in voluminous brochures, maps, and hand-outs for visitors – as is often the case with federally-managed preserves and national parks. The handouts and the tour-guide all extol the beauty of the Preserve and the management skill evident in its current successfully-run state. There are hunting programs, fishing programs, school educational programs and outreach, native plant studies, grazing studies, aquaculture studies, restoration programs, and geothermal investigations going on annually in the caldera. Very little of it is unexplored, unused, or not part of a current project or study. The written materials evoke the authority, ethos, of the federal efforts to restore, use and preserve the land – the resources and expertise of management is reiterated repeatedly and demonstrated by explaining various projects underway at the Preserve. The visitor is inclined to not leave the beaten path and abide by all rules of participation – the impression is that even though the Preserve is very “wild,” big brother is watching what you do while there.
Redondo Peak is the only area of the Preserve off-limits to visitors – it is reserved for use by the local tribes (Jemez and possibly Santa Clara) for their historic cultural and religious practices. This to me was interesting an encouraging – there is clear and practical federal recognition of the primacy of tribal culture in the area and some of the land is still reserved for historic use by the indigenous people who were responsible stewards of the land before capitalist logging and ranching practices damaged so much of it so heavily.

Homework.... In Response to Christine's Discussion Question 1

On Sept. 22, 2009, Obama delivered a speech on global warming and climate change before the United Nations Summit on Climate Change. I think that Christine is right in thinking that it would be impossible to trace Friedman’s influence on Obama’s thinking, but the similarities in their approaches to the issue, at least based on this particular speech of Obama’s, are undeniable. Both appeal to the needs of future generations. Both insist that climate change is a serious issue—perhaps the most serious of our time. Both insist that it is not something any nation can do alone. (Friedman seems much more willing to rally behind the make-America-number-one (again)! cause; he was, after all, writing to galvanize an American public, not necessarily to appeal to world leaders.) Both believe that the climate change era is a new era (although Obama is characterizing this era based on his insistence that we are turning around and making new commitments to renewable energy, whereas Friedman’s energy-climate era isn’t marked so much by human action as it is by the necessity for human action in the face of current inaction). Both insist that there are economic solutions to the crisis. Both Friedman and Obama appeal to the need to change the trajectories of developing countries so that their growth doesn’t overwhelm the positive changes occurring in developed countries. Both see climate change and renewable energy as matters of security. Both are aware that the challenge is not easy, can’t be easy, won’t be simple, will, in fact, be difficult. Both further insist that not only will it be hard, but it will be too late if we don’t act now. Here are some gems from Obama’s speech that illustrate these parallels:

• That so many of us are here today is a recognition that the threat from climate change is serious, it is urgent, and it is growing. Our generation's response to this challenge will be judged by history, for if we fail to meet it -- boldly, swiftly, and together -- we risk consigning future generations to an irreversible catastrophe.
• The security and stability of each nation and all peoples -- our prosperity, our health, our safety -- are in jeopardy. And the time we have to reverse this tide is running out.
• But this is a new day. It is a new era. And I am proud to say that the United States has done more to promote clean energy and reduce carbon pollution in the last eight months than at any other time in our history.
• We've proposed the very first national policy aimed at both increasing fuel economy and reducing greenhouse gas pollution for all new cars and trucks -- a standard that will also save consumers money and our nation oil. We're moving forward with our nation's first offshore wind energy projects. We're investing billions to capture carbon pollution so that we can clean up our coal plants.
• We've worked through the World Bank to promote renewable energy projects and technologies in the developing world. And we have put climate at the top of our diplomatic agenda when it comes to our relationships with countries from China to Brazil; India to Mexico; Africa to Europe.
• It is work that will not be easy. As we head towards Copenhagen, there should be no illusions that the hardest part of our journey is in front of us. We seek sweeping but necessary change in the midst of a global recession, where every nation's most immediate priority is reviving their economy and putting their people back to work. And so all of us will face doubts and difficulties in our own capitals as we try to reach a lasting solution to the climate challenge.
• But difficulty is no excuse for complacency. Unease is no excuse for inaction. And we must not allow the perfect to become the enemy of progress.
• Yes, the developed nations that caused much of the damage to our climate over the last century still have a responsibility to lead.
• What we are seeking, after all, is not simply an agreement to limit greenhouse gas emissions. We seek an agreement that will allow all nations to grow and raise living standards without endangering the planet. By developing and disseminating clean technology and sharing our know-how, we can help developing nations leap-frog dirty energy technologies and reduce dangerous emissions.
• But the journey is long. The journey is hard. And we don't have much time left to make it. It is a journey that will require each of us to persevere through setback, and fight for every inch of progress, even when it comes in fits and starts. So let us begin. For if we are flexible and pragmatic; if we can resolve to work tirelessly in common effort, then we will achieve our common purpose: a world that is safer, cleaner, and healthier than the one we found; and a future that is worthy of our children.

The full text is available at the Huffington Post: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/09/22/obama-un-climate-change-s_n_294628.html

"Cool It"

Last Tuesday, I went to watch the movie "Cool It" by Ondi Timoner. It is a documentary based on the book of the same name written by the Danish Bjorn Lomborg. Lomborg is a very controversial author in the scientific community. Many accuse him of not understanding what he talks about. Through his book skeptikal Environmentalist, Lomborg shows that our era is the safest in the history of humanity. For him, many environmentalists have based their opinions and their success on fear, terror of the people. For Lomborg, the fearful tone or “catastrophizing language” used by some such as Al Gore is a strategy that works, unfortunately. Lomborg believes that there are more reasons today to be optimistic than pessimistic. For the Danish, we must establish a scale of priority. He thinks it would better to focus on issues such as education, the fight against inequalities, diseases (malaria, HIV / AIDS), and work to provide access to clean drinking water for all, improve living conditions of populations.
He made a small survey in at school in a slum of Nairobi, Kenya. Students expressed their priorities through drawings. Several wanted a nice and comfortable house. Lomborg concludes after the survey that global warming is not a priority for people in developing countries. I do not think that he is absolutely right.

There are many things to say about this movie, but I will limit myself to a few points. The film opens with the words of a child who predicted a disaster scenario for the planet. The word of the child is exploited by environmentalists, knowing that the child is the symbol of truth. It is also interesting to note that the film closes with a song of Kenyan children who say, "It takes a village to raise a child". The film's director takes advantage of both the African proverb, and the theme of the child to get the message. Not only are the children singing, they also speak of raising a child, that is to say future generations. The message is clear: The fight must be collective if we are to save the lives of our children. However, this message is still largely ignored, even in industrialized countries like the United States where people do not care enough about the climate problems. I found myself alone in the cinema, fortunately two men entered a few minutes later. We were three at the end to watch "Cool It". The gentleman behind me used the film as a lullaby, as from time to time, I heard him snoring. I spoke at the end of the film with the second gentleman, very interested in the subject and he made me understand that he works for a company working on solar panels. One wonders if environmental issues are an elitist topic. Everyone is free to draw his/her conclusion.

Edward Abbey's Cadillac For Sale

An interesting e-bay item:

http://cgi.ebay.com/ebaymotors/Cadillac-Eldorado-Edward-Abbeys-Cadillac-Convertible-NO-MIN-NO-RESERVE-_W0QQcmdZViewItemQQhashZitem3362a2dc4cQQitemZ220698172492QQptZUSQ5fCarsQ5fTrucks#ht_623wt_1167

Last chance to own one of America's environmental leader's favorite toy.

Own Edward Abbey's 1975 Cadillac!

Ed purchased this car on March 8, 1984 just after his 61st birthday and owned it through the end of his life. After sitting for a while, Ernie Bulow, a book collector and author purchased the car from Abbey's widow and put on the New Mexico vanity plates "Hayduke". In 1995, another book dealer, Tony Delcavo purchased the caddie and began to restore it including the present day vanity plates "E. Abbey" from the state of Colorado. Since 2008 the car has resided in Moab, UT and is being sold by Andy Nettell, book dealer and owner of Back of Beyond Books, a store dedicated to Ed's memory.

Purchaser will also receive numerous original signed documents (including the original signed application for title from the state of Arizona) relating to this car. Included is also the 8-track tape player that Ed purchased for the car, but alas it no longer works and has been replaced with a slightly newer radio.

Proceeds from this sale will go to Confluence: A Celebration of Reading and Writing in Moab, now in its third year. See moabconfluence.org for more information on this festival whose first year was dedicated to Edward Abbey. We think Ed would appreciate his car funding a writers festival.

Edward Abbey's 1975 Red Cadillac Eldorado Convertible can be yours! This 8 cylinder beast runs well and is sold as is. It has a new paint job and the previous owner replaced the ragtop and reupholstered the interior. New hood hinges are needed and various smaller items need some love, i.e. glove box knob has fallen off, interior aluminum strip is loose and back window is sticky. An issue in the electrical system sometimes drains the battery. The odomotor no longer works and the sun visors need attention. The top raises and lowers splendidly and I've had a hoot driving around Arches National Park with the top down. I'm sure Ed threw a few beer cans out while cruising.

The car is featured on the cover of the paperback edition of Postcards from Ed. Writer Luis Alberto Urrea even wrote an essay starring the cadillac.

The car will be delivered (if desired) as long as the recipient lives near an airport in which United Airlines services. $500.00 deposit due via paypal within 48 hours of winning bid. Balance due with 5 days via cash or cashier's check.

Dr Michael Coffey--excellent baklava chef (and atmospheric scientist)

Field Entry 3: Dan and I went on a river walk...

We had come to the river by way of Tingley Beach, which you know, if you've been there, is no way at all to get to the river. The last time I'd been there was an easy walk from the concrete beach at Tingley with its demanding honking ducks to the sand beach of the rio with its more tranquil inhabitants. This time, there was a fence between the river walk/trail and the Albuquerque Biopark railroad, on which the train from the Aquarium/Botanic Garden runs to and from the Zoo, several times daily. (The train runs often, but slowly. Very slowly. I know this because while walking head down staring at my feet kicking dirt along the miniature ties of the miniature rail line, I looked up at an oncoming toy train, and had at least 6 seconds to make up my mind not to stare it down.)

The river, it would seem, is not part of the Biopark. Nevertheless, we managed to hop the fence (all 3 feet of it) and get on the other side of managed nature into "wild nature" (ha!). And in that wilderness, it was nice to see the Rio Grande flowing with a little bit of vigor. Of course, we had to walk up a ways north of the Central bridge in order to get north of the sand bars that were dividing the flow, threatening to leave some of the water, sooner rather than later, in puddles.

I didn't bring my camera. I'm trying to come to terms with why it is I don't like to bring my camera with me--pictures are always so nice later, but the weight of the camera, the burden of documentation has always been uncomfortable to me, and so I happily let Dan snap pictures of the graffiti we encountered under the bridge (beautiful pieces, really), as I looked around and breathed in clear blue sky.

The cottonwood leaves were a pale yellow turning to grey, like they always do this time of year, but the full ground cover of leaves hadn't yet jumped from the trees, so there were plenty of other things to look at near our feet. Browning and yellowing grasses, the paving rock that delineates the walking paths through the Bosque, not to mention the light sand, and the million or so different kinds of sticking things that reach out and grab your pants, socks, shoelaces as you walk past. Just hitchin' a ride. Spreadin' the gospel of stickers far and wide.

It was the stickers that caught our attention most, I think. We each picked up an oblong (about an inch by a half inch) round burr that had tiny hooks on the ends (like Velcro) and tried sticking them to ourselves. It's kind of fun to play in nature, you know?

We saw a family with a couple of kids getting their hands in the mud of the riverbank. Splashing. Laughing. The mother pointed out to her children the things that were different since the last time they'd been there. I heard in my head a Joni Mitchell song my mom used to sing, "oh the seasons, they go round and round and the painted ponies go up and down. We're captive on a carousel of time..." Indeed, the seasons do change, so predictably, acting as bookmarks in our memories, causing us to look forward to the time when they change again, and then dread again the shortening of days. But what would life be without seasons?

....

On the way back from the river, past the picnic tables, the oddly placed wooden railings, the signs that warn you of falling limbs, the Central bridge, the short, odd chain link fence that doesn't invite you jump it, but certainly doesn't warn you not to, we saw the train moping back from the Aquarium to the Zoo. This time, at least, I saw it before I stepped on the tracks.

Third Field Expedition

I feel incredibly lucky to have been pared with Christine for our field expedition groups not just because Christine is one cool cat but also because she brings her kids along on our expeditions.

Christine, Christine’s little girl who she sweetly calls “Mama,” Christine’s fourth grader named Brandon, and I visited the Petroglyph National Monument this last Saturday.

Walking up the Boca Negra Canyon, this was the first petroglyph we encountered:

Brandon announced to us, "That's a lizard holding a lollipop." I thought to myself I don't think the Puebloan people had lollipops but then again I wasn't around so what do I know. I rather like the idea of a lazy lizard languidly licking a lemon lollipop. It's charming.

Continuing up the canyon, we found this etching:

"This is a large man with a very long tail with all of his children and the pack of dogs he owns," Brandon deciphered for Christine and me.

Whenever I look at a photograph or an illustration with a child I am always surprised by the amount of detail they notice. They notice the little pink nose sticking out from under the chair where the mouse is hiding or the cake crumbs dropped on the rug that I miss. I believe this has something to do with how children are often overlooked for being small themselves; hence they're especially sensitive to small details and happenings. Observing the petroglyphs with Brandon was no exception. He didn't miss a thing.

He pointed out "a face with a puckered mouth next to a string of beads," "a drum besides two fish swimming in the same direction," "a bird with another bird on its back," and "a sideways snake face." We saw three of these sideways snake faces so they must have been important.

I was fascinated by our varied ways of reading the basic animal, people, brand, and cross designs. Our petroglyph viewing started to seem like cross-generational inkblot experiment. I started to wonder whether there was a right and wrong way to view the petroglyphs. The carvers, unfortunately, did not leave behind any kind of artistic statement for us to authenticate our interpretations against. Historians, anthropologist, archeologists, and other experts of the American Southwest would undoubtedly assert the accuracy of their explications. But I'm just a fiction writer who (along with Dillard and Lopez) could learn a lot from a child's intuitive and simple interpretations.

So here's a test of sorts... What do you see in the picture below? What would Brandon see?