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Cardinal chicaneries – flight from eco plight Neglect of the ecosystem, overconcern with greed and the passing of regressive laws have contributed to rendering the US a hardened nation, says Gary Simon. Close contact with nature proves both enjoyable and instructive In the last five years the environment has been the prime target of catastrophic abuse generating out of Washington, although the White House is not the sole culprit. A large share of this responsibility should rest with the public which on the surface, seems to believe that most resources are renewable. Even if this ridiculous statement were true, we have demonstrated a remarkable brilliance in keeping the natural world in a state of chaos and ruin. Moreover, we want more than we are entitled to and put much less thought into what we leave behind. We have a tremendous penchant for greed which is permitted to move about freely in government and then to trickle down and fester in the workplace. The goal of a nation should not be the abandonment of its resources or the passing of regressive laws. Rather, it should be the protection of those limited resources and the preservation of its ecosystem. As we distance ourselves from the environment, a similar change has occurred in us. The result has been a hardened nation often lacking in simple caring and common decency. Too many seem willing to cut back, or even do away with, social programs since these programs are now the equivalent of the “L” word. Some from that same camp also prefer to focus on “real” issues like guns and religion and how best to bring the message of God into the workplace. As a nation we’re definitely a more puritanical people. Our interests lie not so much with what we can do for our country, but how many abortion clinics we can boycott in one day. When a people even considers “adjusting” its Constitution to bring it more in line with the Ten Commandments, when a government spoon-feeds its national networks with its own sense of news, then the notion of something greater or ideal in ourselves is lost. I may be taking an unpopular position, but in wanting more goods for ourselves and a better “Christian” life for others, I believe we’ve put other higher goals out of reach. Washington is making the most of its love affair with religion, and this does not bode well for an enlightened society. Even King George III, from whom we broke away in 1776, once remarked, “Knavery seems to be so much the striking feature of its inhabitants that it may not in the end be an evil that they become aliens of this kingdom.” Incredibly we were once the envy of the world, but not so today. Our arrogance, bullying and callousness have seen to that. Imagine the opposite though, a society where the welfare of everyone was top priority and where education and healthy living were similarly encouraged. It would be a time when day laborers and factory workers would balk before ridiculing others who thought outside the box. They might even start to listen, even begin to borrow from their more articulate peers. The marriage of politics and church would be annulled and secular affairs would stand separate from sacred matters. Ideas would have a more fluid purpose than weapons; colleges would produce more than note-takers and art and technology would work toward the advancement of enlightenment. Moving toward this end would be the mark of a higher commitment. Granted, there are a few on its trail as has been the case for generations. But the numbers are growing smaller and the lines are getting thinner. I know that’s one reason why I began my garden, which was not so much to escape responsibility, as to become more respectful of that responsibility. Every evening when I work my cacti and succulents, perennials and tropicals I feel part of a different time, a distant era. There I find a quietness that cannot be achieved in the workplace. What occurs in my day universe pales to the magnitude of what thrives in my garden. One touch of the soil releases newer thoughts. Here among the echeveria, sempervivum and rosettes there is no hatred or shallowness; only possibilities of what might be. When I bought my Louisiana house, I was under the impression I was only entitled to half an acre with plentiful pine trees, two magnolias and several river oaks. I didn’t anticipate the lagniappe that would eventually accompany the mortgage. What at first I couldn’t see has more value now than the entire property. For what price can anyone put on wildlife especially squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, opossums and the massive variety of birds who share my outdoor living quarters? I also have a snake who dwells in my pond and of whom I can’t say I’m very proud since he prohibits my owning goldfish or any larger, cold blooded dwellers. Red cardinals, humming birds, wrens, woodpeckers and mocking-birds are constant inhabitants in the bordering woods, as are great horned owls, swallow-tailed kites, terns, mocking birds, swallows, yellow-throated vireos, and, of course, bluebirds and flycatchers. If this is paradise, I cast my vote for firma terra against my 23-mile drive into town. Over the years this has become my hideaway, my primary world after my day world disappoints me. It’s difficult these days leaving the comfort of my garden when I know what awaits me outside my blooming roses and gardenias. It never bothered me before, regardless of who sat in the Oval Office. But it’s different and stranger now and that’s the problem; too much of what I see is outside my experience and I don’t recognize the players or the fans anymore. Moreover, you know you’re totally outside the loop when you still believe that the billion-year earth has and always will revolve around the billion-year moon and that its thousands of centuries old mountains will forever outlive the skepticism of one national leader caught (shame on him!) reading a grade-school book upside down. It’s taken some inner control to watch my tongue when I stay close to home and have people come visit my botanicals. It’s at these times though that I evidence certain principles from which I’ll never sway. For instance, if you’re one of the believers in the deification of American presidents, the reality of eternal fires, or the inevitability of the earth’s doom, I don’t believe you would much appreciate me, my crassula ovata or my yucca elanpantipes. There is life in all of nature where all matter is organic. All is energy and we’re part of this journey which is not about to end today or a thousand years from today. What will occur a thousand years from now rests with the evolutionary cycle, which is the founding father of life, all life. Of this fact, neither one of us will have much say as to the way the world goes. There is an association I share with my altheas and spider plants. We take in the same oxygen and borrow from similar life forces. Everything is evolving in my Louisiana garden. The pine I cut 15 years ago is now my compost. The dead plants I scattered last year behind the pond are the new soil on which birds feed. Every newly arrived inhabitant shares in the great happening of existence and continuation. It is a movement uninterrupted. But it is also filled with sounds, cries and screeches, birth, death and rejuvenation. It is my city where the organic wheel circles and guards my park. A lost warbler or sparrow may enter unannounced, but they are all part of that ongoing chain of life. What further binds me to the life of my garden is the camaraderie. The minutes shared listening and watching the dancing and chicanery of cardinals and blue jays are irreplaceable memories. The same can be said of the chimney sweep who steals a home with me, filling my broken brick with its straw. That’s another neighbor to keep one more eye on as it raises its family – one more life just like the next litter of raccoons who gather nightly in the backyard to steal food from the dog’s bowl. It’s become habit now for me to feed them several times each night. Their forest behind my house was devastated by a developer who removed their woods and thus diminished their food supply. Besides, I enjoy their meekness and stealthiness and they oftentimes (contrary to rumors I’ve been hearing) make good neighbors. As for my human neighbors, they continue to violate the law and burn leaves in their backyards. They hardly ever recycle and think less of the real harm they’re doing to the environment. More incredible are the excuses they offer for the high doses of mercury that I bring to their attention and its long-term ill effects on all age groups. It doesn’t seem to matter much to many whatever concerns or issues I raise. But I’m persistent and I may press my case for the environment further by pointing out that Louisiana has a record-holding 130 carcinogenic waste dumps with oozing poisons in its possession. More alarming is the fact that no significant action has been taken to clean them up. A new school this fall was built on one such dump. Only a handful of citizens took the time to protest the insane construction. As for my neighbors, they may guffaw or force a smile and beseech me to “lighten up.” Mercury in water, toxins in the air killing thousands of our young and inflicting the rest of us with asthma and heart disease seems to be the way of the American environment. If one accepts the premise that the world is ending tomorrow, then no enlightened argument is possible. If, on the other hand, one believes there is life after 2005, then we should all be shouting from the rooftops. Then again, it’s difficult to expect a culturally enriched society when its newspapers and media suppress real news and replace it with tasteless entertainment. A society that panders to wealthy athletes, romanticizes rock stars and makes much ado over its aristocratic patrons is a society in need of new direction. But first we need to get on some other track outside of the money lane. We need other goals, higher aspirations outside of our self-directedness and greed. My idealized road however, will always lead me back to my garden which is also my home. Inside and outside this fertile garden is the visible and not quite so visible pollution from Baton Rouge. City planners who don’t care much for city planning have decimated large and small lots of pines. In their place are sterile shopping centers, banks, car dealerships and more banks. The ones who profit hugely from this are developers and politicians who only care about developers and politicians. If there is any forethought to aesthetics it is not readily apparent. What is visible, though, is the disruption to thrush, starlings and blue-winged warblers–all for the construction of more apartments and condos. Louisiana has lost more than a third of its wetlands within one decade and its eyes are still shut. So are Ohio’s where outsourcing continues to displace American ingenuity. So are Florida’s where democracy and the single vote can’t seem to find common ground. Regrettably, we are still a republic although no longer run by nineteenth century landowners. Instead we have huge, powerful corporations who just happen to have a partisan “friend” in the White House. Around him are the men and women whose rise in Corporate America couldn’t have been more perfectly crafted. They are also the recipients of rich entitlements and perks that go towards keeping equality at the top. The other 99 percent of us get to live what the other one percent will never see–the true red, white and blue form of “non-democracy.” In their court is also a crusty shortsightedness that freely steers the law and the environment to their advantage. As for the rest of us, it’s our job to keep those guys at the top through our approval and consent. For the most part, we in the middle have handed over the reigns to officials who have yet to tire from exploiting our oil, gas and timber resources. Just as foolishly, we’ve put into high office leaders who refuse to read and who have trouble structuring and verbalizing their thoughts. In that same camp are the irresponsible who continue to impair the economy and watch the deficit grow even more dramatic. They’ve reversed the majority of environmental gains made these past 30 years and will continue to erode more of those laws that protect the health and welfare of its people. Now if one believes that Armageddon is right around the corner, as some from the far right have noted as being only 50 years away, then there probably is little reason to worry over congestion, pollution and disease. But, if one is of the opinion that the earth is not going to disappear by 2055, then maybe it’s time to take a more reasonable approach to preserve what we have and look to regain what we’ve lost. In the meantime I’ll stay close to my garden. One part of me will always be looking for that quixotic state where people act upon their innate goodness and work to develop all that is best in them. My other half is of a tougher texture. That side still perceives a public, not an entire public, but a large enough portion that is as settled with the world as it wishes to be. These are the gentle folks enamored with bumper stickers like “Ya maw maw was pro-life, darlin’” or “Your parents never thought you were a mistake.” While their lives may be blessed with the spirit, it’s the writing on their trucks, campers and RVs that make me want to drive my front end through their back ends. It’s only through my fear of jail that I’m stopped in time. Yet if I did follow through, it would afford me the chance to remind the “other camp” that it is they who have created conditions where states’ and individual rights have been squelched and hammered. These folks bearing the divine message that “God is pro-life” are the very crowd that will force me to embrace my Darwin and battle for common sense. Yet if those with whom I disagree refuse to remove their “Sportsmen for Bush” or “Charlton Heston for President” paraphernalia from the vehicles, then it’s back to my garden where it’s green and harmonious that I’ll retreat. In my 20 x 60 paradise I’ll not just ruminate or avoid contact. No, this will be a time to gather my thoughts and plan for responsible action. It will be a moment to listen to the heart and not necessarily the intellect. Yet, when I do, I know the opposition will again force my hand. They’ll force my hand because I'll see once more the backwardness of their logic. And then I’ll realize how imperative action is and how necessary it is to be outspoken, particularly when dirty water continues to determine our new drinking standards; when clean air continues to fall from our list of our top five priorities; when vibrant mountains can no longer be visited and when hills with dioxins devastating their vegetation continue to go unchecked. But lastly and most importantly, I would like to ask everyone with their SUVs and flashy stickers reminding me how God was in the delivery room when I was born to pause now and then and to think differently this one time. I would like to ask them to put aside their selfishness for a single moment and to re-consider what really matters. And if the trees and clean sky and cleaner air don’t make it to the top of their list, at least give some pause to the guy in his garden who saw a lesson in preserving one fertile corner of his universe and in making small talk with his raccoons and opossums each night. Note:
This article was first published by JUST Response on March 7 2005. Gary
Simon did doctoral work at Wayne State University in
the early 1970s and owns
an advertising agency in New Orleans. Much of his time
is spent
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