wallace stegner

If you have not already been introduced to this poet activist, look him up as soon as you can. He is literary, wise, historical, and political all bound up in poetic passion that makes you read slowly and hesitate to turn too many pages lest you get to the end too quickly.

He was born in early years of the 20th century and carried the yoke of early environmentalism when that was a lonely burden to bear.

He reminds us of the great swath of land that made us, that inspired us just by being there. West was more than a direction for Americans - it was the frontier, the place of opportunity, escape, freedom, chance, choice that we had safe in the bank whether we ever needed it and used it or not. It was a calling. And we all hear it still.

There was a carelessness we thought we could afford here, for there was always an out-there waiting for us, by our right.

And while we still act that way, and that sense of possibilities still fires the American spirit, we have long passed the time when the land can afford all the misuse, disregard and hope that we put on it.

Stegner speaks of all this in ways that do not fail to move us - there are times it is like reading psalms, and the psalmist's paeans to nature, only in the landscape we know as America instead of the sacred land of Israel. But how better to remind us of all the earth's sacredness?

telling time

I did not take my watch to the beach house this winter break. Indeed, I have stopped wearing watches altogether - not because I ignore or disdain or otherwise seek to surmount time. Not at all. But because I could spend my entire discretionary budget on watches - finding them fascinating as I do. I could build an entire wardrobe of watches - with small faces and large faces; simple faces and intricate faces; leather bands, artsy bands, beaded bands. Black bands, red bands, silver bands. I would never know which one to wear when. And then, of course, is the maintenance. They break and cost as much to fix as to purchase. So I leave them, lying there. They stare at me blankly, looking up from my jewelry drawer. Carcasses, bored and stuck. Instruments of movement and eternity frozen in time. How can I not feel slightly guilty?

Anyway, I don't need watches because everywhere I go tells me the time. Everything in the house has a built in LED digital clock display. The cordless phones, the computer I am working on, my cell phone; never mind the decorative clock on my desk. And when I am out of the house, I can read the time on my car radio; my cell phone; office clocks; desk clocks and other people's watches. Truth be told, it is hard not to be aware of the time in most of the places I live my life.

So I did not take a watch to the beach. There used to be two wall clocks at this house, one in the dining room and one in the living room. There was an LED display on the microwave, and several radio clocks in the various bedrooms. As far as moden houses go, this house was clock-poor. Yet, it was sufficient for casual purposes.

But the clock in the dining room stopped working years ago. The Orioles clock in the living room had disappeared. And the LED display on the microwave was broken. I did not have access to the bedrooms that may have had radio clocks; and the one I slept in had none.

I did not have access to my computer. The phones in this house were too old to have time displays (or any displays for that matter). And besides, it was shabbes so I was not going to use the phone.

Bottom line: I had no way to tell time.

Okay, I knew when the sun set, and when it got dark. But after that, all bets were off. Nighttime, especially after sleeping for a while, becomes a jungle of time. How far have I traveled; how far yet to go? Am I rested or still tired? Did I sleep enough or just a little? Is it six hours to sunrise, or one? Am I hungry or do I just want to eat?

We like maps for the same reason we like knowing the time: knowing one's place in the universe is soothing, orienting, offering a semblance of control and knowledge. I was surprised, even so, at how unsettling it was not to know what time it was.

Daybreak offered little respite. It was already light when I woke up in the morning. Was it an hour after sunrise? two? three? It was overcast and raining. I have been coming to this house for over 20 years and I have a good sense of direction - so if I could see the sun, even in the winter months, I could roughly gauge the time of day. No luck here.

At this point, I was getting desperate, a mild case of an addict seeking a fix. Need to know the time. Need to know the time. I felt like tearing apart the house looking for a clock. True, my husband had his watch, but I think he was wearing it. And the room was dark.

And as the anxiety rose, it occurred to me that maybe I should just sit down and take a moment (without knowing which one it was!) and savor this. Perhaps I should sit down, and figure out what this desperation means, and what I can learn from it.

Here I was, on Shabbat, on vacation, in a beach community that was almost deserted. With nothing to do, no obligations, no demands, no work, no nothing. Why couldn't I just sit, or walk, or read or enjoy without knowing what time it was?

Clearly, for better or worse, deliberately and consciously or not, I plan my days according to the time it is now and the time I have left. I measure and weigh: do I do this or that? do I need to rush or take my time? can I allow myself to be distracted or not? Time is less to be experienced than to be filled. Until it runs out.

I cannot say if this is good or bad. I simply offer it as the way it is for me. And either way, it is enlightening for me to know. I think it is instructive for each of us to know how we respond to a timeless day. See if you can set aside a day beginning at evening, not just because that is the way that Jews count time, but because it gives you a whole nighttime to be without clocks (save the passage of the moon, on a clear night).

I plan to try again sometime to go a day without knowing the time. Even if it is in the middle of the night and I don't know if i get up to read whether I will have enough time to go back to sleep or not.

But I am not so certain when that day will be.

shore thing

I went to a beach house over the winter break. Relaxing and pleasant, and very quiet. I (re)learned a lesson of the shore.

To most of us, the beach and ocean are seasonal commodities, like lemonade and warm sunshine. We "use" them in the summer months and pack them away when the weather gets cold. The place was empty, almost deserted. Hotels were boarded up, saying things like: thanks for a great summer. reopening mid-April. Many were shuttered tight, with their No Vacancy light on. Of course, that was not true. There were lots of vacancies, but no one was around to let you in. The town shut down; hibernated from November through April. Half a year, all this real estate, built-up environment, infrastructure, lies fallow.

True, not all beach communities fold up by Thanksgiving; and more and more of them try to create a year-round atmosphere of dining, entertainment and relax-zzzzation. And reasonably so. They want to make the most of their investment.

And I can't blame those towns that happily wave goodbye to the seasonal invaders, heaving a sigh of relief. After all the fuss and bother of the summer months, the town deserves a good rest, and even more, needs a facelift. Maintenance, painting, fixing all get done in the off-season.

So, I am not complaining about the way the towns handle their cyclical lifestyles. But I am saddened that we, the visitors, hardly give the seas and beaches, and the towns that are built mostly for our use, a second thought once the days get short.

Is it wise, especially as built space becomes tighter and land more precious, to let such resources lay fallow, wasted, half the year? Can we creatively imagine how to use these places to the benefit of all? What if we moved the increasing homeless population whom we are struggling unsuccessfully to house (not the families with children who need to go to school but the adults who otherwise have no family or obligations to tie them to a community) during these bitter months to these places, house them at reasonable prices and put them to work cleaning and tending and mending these seaside communities? This may redeem both structures and souls, and help transition many of these folk back into lifestyles that can support jobs and homes.

Are there schools? retreats? other seasonal uses we can imagine utilizing these places so that we needn't build more places elsewhere, and so that we can reintroduce people to the wonders of nature "out of season?"

Appreciating the wilds all year round. Utilizing wisely, all year round, what we create. Perhaps these two goals can be blended to yield something greater than we can now imagine. Surely clever entrepreneurs and social activists can come up with something.

two for one

Sharing a home is good for the environment. So say the researchers at Michigan State University. In a study that could be nominated for the Oh Really Awards, we learn that two people living together (in this case, also married), use far fewer resources than two people living apart. Chalk one more up to the benefits of living together. How good it is to have someone to come home, to warm up your bed, to share home-made soup with, to finish off the portion that is too big for you, to vent your frustrations to. People in our homes (as long as they are not threatening or hostile) extend our lives, care for us when we are sick, give us someone besides ourselves to worry and fuss over.

Living together is good for the soul, good for the pocketbook, good for the environment, good to banish loneliness, good for a laugh. Then why, since 2005, are half of American households made up of one person? In the 1950's, according to an editorial in today's Sun paper, 3/4 of all households were headed by married couples. Okay, even I - old-fashioned though I be - am less interested in arguing for the married part than I am rooting for the couple or shared living space part. Being alone is hard for most of us. And even though it has it pleasures of solitude and quiet and freedom in the short term, these can grow heavy in their abundance and relentlessness of living alone.

So why are we such private, alone people? Why do we so cherish or protect our privacy and yet yearn for the hubbub of third places and seek comfort in the company of the vast hordes of cyberspace? Do we not trust each other enough? Are we too self-indulgent? Too demanding? Too unsure?

I, for one, do not know. But I do hope that those who are planning our future pay attention. I hope that future architects and builders and city planners and community activists explore ways to build housing that can both bring people together, and give them their privacy; in ways that enrich their personal lives, and limit their footprint on this grand world of ours. Surely that is not too much to ask.

LEDs

While exploring the Terrapass carbon offset site, I discovered that they had LEDs to sell. Not inexpensive: $30 for a light with the equivalent of a 40 watt bulb. But it is supposed to use about 1000th of the energy of incandescents and will most likely outlast me.

Curious, I bought two - one to put over my kitchen sink, which is our most-used indoor light. I figured I would feel less unhappy if that light that stayed on every night til the wee hours of the morning due to some late-owl meanderings if it was energy efficient. The second one is still in its box. Not sure where to put it.

One thing I noticed right away when I screwed in the LED - it does not play nicely with the incandescents in the other kitchen fixtures. (we are a hybrid house - the kitchen now has an LED, 9 CFLS, and three incandescents. don't ask.) It goes better with the CFLs, but it is a different breed of light.

It is strong, but not diffuse. It is white but not harsh. Soft - like a shower of bright fullmoon light. To stand in its orb is to feel oneself outdoors, mid-month, on a cloudless night - and to wash dishes in its light is to imagine that the water is a tangible rush of its light cool on your skin.

Still and all, not all members of my family like it. And it does not give off enough light for aging eyes to feel sated in brightness. There are times I would like to slide up the dimmer switch - but there is none to be had. The bulb is as high as it can go. It was the highest strength I could find.

So the industry must continue to work both on the quality and power of the light, and on the price.

But to know that not only is my house powered by 100% wind energy; but that our consumption of even that energy is low (the lower our per household consumption, the further wind energy will go and the more quickly we can be weaned from fossil fuels) feels good.

And to glance into the kitchen with all the other lights off and see this glow of cool, calming moonlight transforms the space into the place of fairytales.

humble pie

Sooner or later, in a just world, the bullied wake up, and realize that if they stick together, their oppressor can be contained. that is what happened in Bali. The Bush Administration, which had been standing obstinate, blocking all progress at the Bali conference, was booed at, pushed aside, and otherwise humiliated, with its own words being flung back at them. Ultimately, and suddenly, they backed down. And now we have something of an agreement that promises to do something good for the world. Of course, the White House quickly stepped back from even this iota of cooperation with the rest of the world and re-asserted its obstinacy a few hours later. But thank goodness most delegates had gone home by then.

here is the Grist reports it.

'Tis the Season to Be Bali
High drama leads to compromise at international climate meeting

After days of bitter fighting and an overtime stretch filled with twists, turns, and tears, world leaders on Saturday agreed on a broad plan for developing a new global climate treaty by 2009. The "Bali roadmap" calls for measurable and verifiable steps by developing nations as well as industrialized ones, and calls for developing nations to get credit for protecting their tropical forests. The European Union had pushed for industrialized countries to commit to cuts in greenhouse-gas emissions of 25 to 40 percent below 1990 levels by 2020, but the U.S., Canada, and Japan balked, so the final text just says that "deep cuts" in emissions are needed. The U.S. also announced that it could not support language committing rich nations to provide technological help to poorer ones; that move elicited boos, hisses, and an impassioned plea from a Papua New Guinea representative to the U.S.: "If you're not willing to lead, then get out of the way." Believe it or not, the U.S. then did get out of the way, changing its position and saying it would support the agreement. Still, just hours after the deal was finalized, the White House expressed "serious concerns" about it, just like it does whenever democracy gets in its way.


Let's keep the pressure on and see if we can truly make progress to save this planet.

change of heart and bamboo dishes

Inexplicably, but happily, the US withdrew its obstinacy at the 11th hour of the Bali conference, so now there is an agreement. While the reports are still coming in, and details are few, here is one report of America's change of heart:


"The United States initially did not agree to proposals to strongly require that rich nations help poorer nations access green technology to limit their emissions.

The U.S. stance caused delegates to boo the American delegation at the conference, and at one point a tired-looking Yvo de Boer, the UN's climate chief who hadn't slept in two days, broke down in tears over the deadlock.

Finally, U.S. negotiator Paula Dobriansky capitulated and declared she would accept the deal.

"We've listened very closely to many of our colleagues. We will go forward and join consensus," she said, as the room erupted in cheers."

How refreshing - a team player emanating from the Bush camp. Thank goodness this gathering was in Bali and not Washington.

now, the trick is not just to create solid benchmarks but assure that we meet them. That is where we, the people, come in.

On a different matter, for synagogues and homes who don't want to use disposables and can't afford to use fancy dishes, bamboo plates and utensils come to the rescue. They are lightweight, easy to clean and stack, won't break, and affordable, especially now.

Crate and Barrel is having a hefty sale - buy them for your synagogue's shabbat kiddush and your informal family gatherings.

The gift to give the person who has everything. And a way for your shul or institution to be green. And they don't weaken or leak!

Nobel Gore

Al Gore used the bully pulpit of the Nobel Peace Prize to remind the world we are running out of time. "Today," he said, "we dumped another 70 million tons of global-warming pollution into the thin shell of atmosphere surrounding our planet. And tomorrow, we will dump a slightly larger amount, with the cumulative concentrations now trapping more and more heat from the sun."


It is a stark reminder that this is a problem that grows with every passing moment. It does not stand still. Neither can we. While we work to change our laws, our technologies, our culture, we must work to change our personal behaviors as well. Conservation, while not the sole answer, is a beginning. Light bulbs can't save the world, but they can contribute mightily to reducing your waste. In addition to changing my most used lightbulbs to CFLs, I decided to try an LED in the light over my kitchen sink, without a doubt the light that stays on the most in the house.

True, it is expensive. $30 for a 40 watt bulb. But the bulb is attractive, the light is as radiant as the full moon, as soothing, peaceful and blue as a moonshadow. And it lasts up to 1000 times longer while drawing a fraction of the energy (I think I was told it drew .07 percent of the energy of an incandescent bulb of comparable size). My son assures me it will outlast me.

If I go somewhere within a mile's distance and the weather and my schedule permit, I often walk these days. I try to build in the time (15 minutes to walk vs 5 to drive). Not so hard after all. But assuredly not easy either.

Bottom line, there are some things we can do to save the earth that take almost no extra effort: recycling, turning off lights, changing light bulbs (which we need to do anyway, only with CFLs or LEDs a lot less often). But there are some things that will take more effort - organizing our lives so we drive less, consume less, forgo items with wasteful packaging, spend more for items that are not made in China. But our investment today will save us lives, comfort and even money in the not too distant future.

One more thing: Gore got the Nobel PEACE prize, not the science prize. Environmental health will avoid major conflicts based on growing scarcity, disappearing land masses, refugees, sickness, need.

What more do we need to motivate us to act?