Thursday, September 14, 2017

From Above

Not too surprisingly, television images that were mesmerizing before Irma hit land, and shocking during the storm, became overwhelming by about Monday. I don't remember whether we had the capacity for such extensive aerial coverage even ten years ago; these kinds of images from above are relatively new to the human psyche, and this storm's swath was so enormous that I don't think anyone can fully take it in. Picture after picture of destruction across the Caribbean into Florida and Georgia has seared its way into our collective consciousness. 

I am glad that overall, relatively few lives were lost. I resonate with people left adrift, although I cannot begin to imagine the suddenness and irreversibility of their experience; my heart goes out to all whose lives have changed. And first responders and workers restoring power and water are doing a heroic job. But here's the thing that haunts me in this video feed from above. Where (literally on earth!) is all the manmade trash, much of it toxic, going to go? I mean, this detritus represents untold tons of aluminum siding, acrylic paint, sheetrock, old asbestos, carpeting, roofing, and plastic lawn furniture. Countless cars, refrigerators, air conditioners, mattresses, rubber tires, and electronics have either made their way into the ocean or will have to be landfilled. Households lost invaluable personal belongings, as well as plastic items small and large, from toothbrushes to kitchen storage boxes to pet toys and table- and drop-cloths. Cleaning supplies. Toiletries. Batteries. And then there are the fiberglass boats. Little old north country me has mostly sailed in wooden boats on lakes which may host only a few dozen sailboats on a beautiful summer day; from that perspective, it is shocking to see enormous marinas filled with ruined boats, maybe tens of thousands of motorboats, sailboats, and yachts, either swamped by the storm or washed up on land blocks from their berths. Each boat represents a significant weight of fiberglass (polyester), not to mention sails, motors, gasoline, life vests...the list goes on. 

More than anything, it's the plastic. Somehow, not having a home of my own and being in a town where virtually all packaging plastics are recycled, I have been able to at least stomach my own plastic "footprint." I don't particularly like synthetic anything, fabrics, plates, cutlery or furniture, but my consciousness about it hadn't been fully raised. Since Monday, the thought of all our trashed plastic debris has made me feel sick.

The move to rebuild is starting. I understand the urgent need. But most of our modern building materials just simply cannot be fully absorbed into the earth this time or the next time. Nature cannot break them down as compost for future use. 

I stand in awe of the extraordinary power we just witnessed. In fact, as I said the other day, I embrace nature's wide range of expression, its own heroic effort to stay in balance. But gosh, now the ball is in our court. I really hope that all of us look at the bigger picture of what this storm was trying to teach us. I hope we all look at it from above, and from the perspective of the future. My hunch is that we are being asked to stop and think before rebuilding. Unfortunately, when you stop and think, other people interpret it as "doing nothing"...