Sometimes I think I must be the oldest person on earth. I’m speaking from northwest Vermont, about 40 miles from the Canadian border. For the last ten days or so, we’ve had hot, sunny weather. People walk up and down Church Street wearing shorts and sunburns. Down at the lake, 50 sailboats bob at their moorings while another 20 have unfurled their sails beyond the breakwater, their owners unable to resist the urge to play hooky in the middle of the week.
So why do I feel like the oldest person on earth? Because I remember that spring is not supposed to feel like this. Spring in the north country is supposed to be a slow greening, a gentle reawakening of the earth. Instead, we have instant, endless summer. The lilacs bloomed early this year and as quickly as they appeared, the blossoms were burned off the bush. Now, at a date when they should be arriving, they’re already gone. As I walk through the neighborhoods, I see the remains of tulips, keeled over and desiccated.
Our average daily high temperature is in the mid-80s. According to the local newspaper, that’s about 20 degrees above normal. The paper also says we’re about four inches behind on rainfall for the year, El Nino notwithstanding. Among the statistics listed in the weather information column is the Ray-Ban UV index. That’s right, the Bausch and Lomb Company, makers of Ray-Ban sunglasses, is the official sponsor of the daily newspaper index of ultra-violet light. Our environmental revolution will not only be televised, it will have corporate sponsorship. Only I’m not sure which environmental disaster Ray-Ban is sponsoring. Is it climate change, because we have so many more sunny days than we used to, or is it ozone depletion because more ultraviolet radiation is striking the earth?
As I said, I must be the oldest person on earth, because I remember the days when we could get by with a seven dollar pair of Foster Grant sunglasses instead of shelling out 150 bucks for Ray-Bans or Oakleys. In those days, it was just smoked plastic, not thermonuclear protection. If the price of sunglasses is any indication, environmental catastrophe is good for the Gross National Product.
I’m sure you’ve noticed I keep using words like disaster, catastrophe when in fact, everyone in Vermont is wearing shorts and thinks this is a real treat. Well, in the short-term it is a treat, but what about the long run?
Once again, remember, I seem to be the oldest person on earth. Adrienne came home Saturday morning with a 12-ounce bottle of something called “Native Tan” with a picture of what might be an Aztec sun god on the front. The label describes the product as “sun protection lotion,” a rather mild one, with a rating of SPF 15. I suppose “SPF” stands for “sun protection factor,” but there’s nothing on the bottle that actually explains what “SPF” stands for. The label does tell me “Native Tan” blocks the rays of both ultraviolet “A” and ultraviolet “B” sunlight, in case the $150 sunglasses aren’t enough.
I remember when we put oil on our skin to increase the power of sunlight. Now if we want a tan, we just back off a bit on the products we use to block the sun.
In the summer of 1995, 700 people in Chicago died in a heat wave. In every season of the year, we are now seeing the effects of human intervention in the environment.
When I was a boy, I used to wish that summer would never end. Since then, I’ve learned to be careful what to wish for.
Instant, Endless Summer
Sometimes I think I must be the oldest person on earth. I’m speaking from northwest Vermont, about 40 miles from the Canadian border. For the last ten days or so, we’ve had hot, sunny weather. People walk up and down Church Street wearing shorts and sunburns. Down at the lake, 50 sailboats bob at their moorings while another 20 have unfurled their sails beyond the breakwater, their owners unable to resist the urge to play hooky in the middle of the week.
So why do I feel like the oldest person on earth? Because I remember that spring is not supposed to feel like this. Spring in the north country is supposed to be a slow greening, a gentle reawakening of the earth. Instead, we have instant, endless summer. The lilacs bloomed early this year and as quickly as they appeared, the blossoms were burned off the bush. Now, at a date when they should be arriving, they’re already gone. As I walk through the neighborhoods, I see the remains of tulips, keeled over and desiccated.
Our average daily high temperature is in the mid-80s. According to the local newspaper, that’s about 20 degrees above normal. The paper also says we’re about four inches behind on rainfall for the year, El Nino notwithstanding. Among the statistics listed in the weather information column is the Ray-Ban UV index. That’s right, the Bausch and Lomb Company, makers of Ray-Ban sunglasses, is the official sponsor of the daily newspaper index of ultra-violet light. Our environmental revolution will not only be televised, it will have corporate sponsorship. Only I’m not sure which environmental disaster Ray-Ban is sponsoring. Is it climate change, because we have so many more sunny days than we used to, or is it ozone depletion because more ultraviolet radiation is striking the earth?
As I said, I must be the oldest person on earth, because I remember the days when we could get by with a seven dollar pair of Foster Grant sunglasses instead of shelling out 150 bucks for Ray-Bans or Oakleys. In those days, it was just smoked plastic, not thermonuclear protection. If the price of sunglasses is any indication, environmental catastrophe is good for the Gross National Product.
I’m sure you’ve noticed I keep using words like disaster, catastrophe when in fact, everyone in Vermont is wearing shorts and thinks this is a real treat. Well, in the short-term it is a treat, but what about the long run?
Once again, remember, I seem to be the oldest person on earth. Adrienne came home Saturday morning with a 12-ounce bottle of something called “Native Tan” with a picture of what might be an Aztec sun god on the front. The label describes the product as “sun protection lotion,” a rather mild one, with a rating of SPF 15. I suppose “SPF” stands for “sun protection factor,” but there’s nothing on the bottle that actually explains what “SPF” stands for. The label does tell me “Native Tan” blocks the rays of both ultraviolet “A” and ultraviolet “B” sunlight, in case the $150 sunglasses aren’t enough.
I remember when we put oil on our skin to increase the power of sunlight. Now if we want a tan, we just back off a bit on the products we use to block the sun.
In the summer of 1995, 700 people in Chicago died in a heat wave. In every season of the year, we are now seeing the effects of human intervention in the environment.
When I was a boy, I used to wish that summer would never end. Since then, I’ve learned to be careful what to wish for.