Skepticism
October 4, 2011
One of the greatest catalysts of the environmental movement in Michigan was the rise of the middle class working family as our state industrialized in the early 1900s. Forty-hour-a-week workers with good pay and benefits sought out clean rivers, streams, lakes and parks for recreation and relaxation during their weekends and vacations. Many industries that created the jobs soon realized they had to provide their employees a clean environment as well.
Now as we struggle through a prolonged period of economic malaise in America, economists and politicians focus on what is needed to stimulate growth in the U.S. and world economies. They appear to worship at the altar of economic expansion, few seeming to question if our planet can sustain the growth rates they pursue. What price to our environment does a robust economy extract?
Of course, it is easier for a person with a job, insured benefits and a retirement program to question the obsession with economic growth; but a job without clean air to breathe and water to drink will not be satisfying for long. So a healthy dose of skepticism about economic growth is needed.
As I read the scathing indictment of corruption in college sports in the October issue of The Atlantic Magazine, I kept thinking that a healthier dose of skepticism about ever-increasing hype might have avoided the crass commercialism and exploitation of what once was but may no longer be justifiably connected to institutions of higher learning.
And of course, a healthy dose of skepticism must be maintained by those in charge of school sports as we trend during difficult economic times in directions more commercial than our founding principles may have envisioned.
Swimming Lessons
January 19, 2016
I found a place between Christmas and New Year’s Day that was out of Internet reach. For four days and three nights I spent most of the days in the water looking downward into an ocean of coral canyons surrounded by swarms of colorful fish, and much of the nights on the open deck of a catamaran looking up at a nearly full moon moving between stars and swirling clouds. Here is some of what I learned from experiences, rather than from Google, on those days.
First, flying fish really do fly, on average, about the length of a football field.
Second, sea urchins have an edible element, if the spiny critters are smoked in a fire of coconuts and palm fronds and then soaked in saltwater, and if you are either desperately marooned on some remote island or just trying to be nice to the local residents you just met who believe the urchin's slimy, salty core is a delicacy that hospitality requires be shared and graciousness demands be appreciated.
And, more relevant to the work we share that I tried unsuccessfully to tune out for these four days, I learned ...
What you see in the ocean is distorted until you put on your goggles and get beneath the surface of the water. Getting beneath the surface of things is necessary for clear vision.
What you see first is likely to be the flashy fish, while the greater significance is observed more slowly in what appears to be their inanimate habitats, which turn out to be alive with movement if you wait and watch for it. Patience is necessary for clear vision.
The wavy six-inch line of purple coral was really the lips of a large clam that actually separate a fraction of an inch every minute or so to take in the nourishment of the sea. The brown stump below it was really a sea cucumber that actually moves an inch or two a day to vacuum the ocean floor. I saw none of this until I got beneath the surface, and waited.