I haven’t lived in Trail all that long, but, in reading your letters page, I’ve come to understand that convincing some writers that humans have a part in climate change is about as likely as convincing others that our current MP is doing a good job, or that our MLA belongs to the right party.
I’ve had the opportunity to hear from people who are actually studying the world’s oceans, and I worked in industry long enough to remember the supporters of asbestos and the naysayers of acid rain quite clearly.
I don’t think I lived in denial myself, just took my paycheque and trusted that someday we’d get things right. And things are getting better. You can hang the clothes out to dry on an overcast day and trust that the rain, if it comes, won’t eat holes in your undies. Not anymore.
Well, except maybe if you’re a shell fish, or a coral reef, or a plankton. Then, according to the folk I’m hearing from, their undies aren’t doing so well. As the uptake of the oceans increases they become more acidic and life as we know it begins to die. If enough life dies in the ocean, we die along with it. Or our kids do.
Now maybe the scientists and biologists and the folk who study the oceans are wrong about the cause of the problem.
Maybe the folk who deny their conclusions are right this time. But what do we lose by cleaning up our emissions, taking the bus or the bike or the train a bit more, or finding other sources of energy?
Call me a gullible dupe if you like, but my memory carries the truth of rotted clothing, fresh from the line. I have sat by too many friends whose exposure to harmless asbestos or silica or cedar has taken away too much.
I’d rather err on the side of caution, do what I can and look foolish to my grandchildren for believing I was protecting their lives, than light up another cigarette, “Because we’re all gonna die anyway.”
But maybe that’s just me. And mine.
Keith Simmonds, Trail