Climate
Strike,
Friday Sept
20, 2019
We have just
lived through a remarkable event that is likely the first and only world-wide
undertaking inspired by a child. The event was organized and attended by
millions of activists around the world. I know because I was one of them. Just
in case you missed news of the event, here is my report.
The event
was a one-day Friday Strike and demonstration, organized to promote and provoke
action on behalf of our planet that is in dire peril. Climate experts around
the world agree that our planet and all life thereupon are in great danger as a
consequence of man-made air pollution. The first and most recent Climate Strike
occurred on Friday, September 20 to reflect the rising tide of public opinion
that our climate is changing and temperatures are warming as a result of the
huge increase in carbon dioxide that is poisoning our atmosphere from burning
fossil fuels.
The Friday
event was inspired by Greta Thunberg, a sixteen-year-old child from Sweden who left
her school to sit alone on the doorstep of the Swedish Parliament with a hand
lettered sign concerning climate change. Her message and determination were so
compelling that she was invited inside to address the parliamentarians. The resulting
publicity from her speech created a ripple across her nation that ultimately
became a tidal wave of public opinion around the world. Her initial single-person
demonstration became known as The Climate Strike, sending citizens to the
streets of most major cities in the United States and around the world. The US
hosted 1000 Climate Strike events. Similar events were held in 137 nations in
all seven continents. The events attracted huge crowds everywhere. The New York
City event drew 220,000 marchers and photos from the Dublin, Ireland event hint
at a crowd as least as large. The Sierra Club estimated that as many as 4
million people attended events around the world.
The event in
Montreal was as large as any, hosting an estimated ½ million demonstrators.
Events in South America, Europe and other nations were equally impressive with
movies of the events showing parading masses of humans striking for change.
Montreal Climate Change Demonstration
I
attended the Sept. 20 Climate Strike held in Traverse City Michigan. Our event
was not so large as those in any of the large cities, but it seemed to have
just as much enthusiasm among the 200 plus citizens who attended, including a
number of school-age youngsters scattered among those of us from the senior
set. Ours was a demonstration with marchers congregating next to a busy street,
hoisting hand-made signs for passing motorists to see. Most motorists signaled
their sympathy with our efforts by honking their horns, waving, and shouting
their agreement as they passed by.
Marching
with others of a similar persuasion was a heady experience. I appreciated the
sentiments offered by the hand-lettered signs and the solidarity of marching
with a wide swath of local citizenry; mothers with children and grandparents
with canes, youngsters absent from school (as was Gretta who remained in New
York) a host of ‘ordinary Joe’s and Josettes.’ Here are a few of them who
showed that they care passionately about convincing our political leaders of
the need for change to improve our atmosphere.
Public
opinion polls now show that most people are supporters of the need to implement
laws that will protect our atmosphere. Depending upon the nation polled and the
survey questions, supporters’ number in the realm of 80% and higher. Among climate
scientists, the number of supporters is a whopping 97%. These trends are world-wide.
In fact, the United States stands alone as the only major industrialized nation
with a leader who refuses to recognize climate change and a political party that
follows his lead. Fortunately, that is of little consequence since the support
for climate change action in the US is strong and cities and state governments
are proceeding to implement climate changes steps despite the ignorance of our
President.
(I almost
titled this piece The Case of the Wayward Phone instead of the missing phone,
but that would be prejudging the case and I want to give you the facts so you
can decide for yourself.)
The saga
began nearly a week ago when I returned home from a camping trip and sat on the
porch with my phone and a glass of wine, giving each equal attention. I remember
looking at the phone because it wasn’t responding to my commands. After a
moment, I realized the phone was misbehaving because I had been away from home
and my goldhorse WiFi system. My cell phone had been mostly--reliable but the
friendly little machine wasn’t used to being absent from its favorite signal. After
I realized the cause of the problem, I finished my wine and promptly forgot
about my friend Sammy the Samsung smartphone.
My normal morning
practice upon awakening is checking the weather forecast. I reached for Sammy
on my nightstand, its usual resting place, only to feel the smooth mahogany texture
sans telephone. “Strange,” I mumbled. Then I remembered. I had a job to do that
demanded immediate attention.
I had agreed
to assist with the county Hazardous Waste Program. I began hurrying; I was
supposed to arrive at 8:00 AM at a location some thirty minutes distant, not
counting the road closure that stood in the way of my journey. I climbed out of
bed and made myself a cup of coffee, found my thermos, and finished the shaving
ritual before running out the door. I was one of 30 volunteers and we gathered at
the County Road Commission where we would ultimately collect, sort, and empty
refuse from the trunks, trailers, and pick-up boxes of citizens who began
lining up along the road anxiously awaiting their chance to deposit their
unwanted waste. We volunteers were assigned to one of the various collection stations.
My assignment was electronics – televisions, computers, keyboards, printers and
other electronic devices including cell phones.
I spent the
next five hours smiling and chatting up the citizenry as I helped unload and
toss the unwanted detritus from our modern life into waiting gondolas and onto
rapidly filling pallets. I must have handled several dozen old TV’s, scores of keyboards,
and dozens of printers and copiers not to mention a host of cell phones all of
which I ceremonially tossed into a large gondola. Helping me were two trustees
from our local jail who seemed to enjoy the act of tossing formerly expensive
hardware into the trash containers for recycling while secretly sharing an
occasional forbidden smoke.
I arrived
home tired. I spent the next few hours resting before I assumed my normal
routine that included checking e-mails on my phone. It suddenly struck me that
I didn’t have my cell phone in my pocket, its normal place. I began searching
for the missing gadget that I knew would turn up in one of the usual locations
where I used it regularly. I looked high and low. It didn’t turn up.
My paternal
instincts were aroused – where could the little fellow with all the buttons be
hiding? With a mixture of regret and fear for my former friendly assistant, I
went to the second level of investigation; I asked the wife if she had seen my
phone. She began actively searching as well. We looked in the closet, the
garden and all my normal hiding places but the phone was nowhere to be found.
The search
went on the rest of the afternoon and evening to no avail. We took turns
dialing the home phone and listening for the ring of the cell. It was deathly
quiet. I went to bed disappointed. I had a restless night as I mentally calculated
the odds that the phone might have fallen from my pocket and was then whisked away
by a pal with travel connections. By morning I had determined the most likely
sequence of events: my phone must have run away from home sometime after the
frustration of not getting its normal WiFi signal. There was the answer, plain
as day. I could just imagine my phone sitting some strange place with a bunch
of other wayward phones, drinking, smoking and laughing uproariously at those
of us who were suddenly phoneless, bereft of our calendars, appointments, and
telephone messages.
I should
have guessed the answer earlier from the signals I had received from the little
devil – his habit of occasionally moving from my nightstand to the floor should
have hinted at his deviant behavior. Just the week before last he managed to
jump from my pocket to the floor of the truck for an afternoon of freedom doing
God knows what.
So, there
you have it. Don’t ever trust cell phones. Especially smart phones. They can
turn against you in a moment. An old Indiana proverb from my mother comes to
mind –'its too smart for its own good.’ And now you’ll understand if I haven’t
returned your phone call or missed some important date as I ponder the wisdom
of seeking another smartphone, hopefully one that remains in my pocket.
