Graduation

I could smell the mothballs from the carport.  I stepped out of the car and went directly into the backyard, where the neighbors had placed a line of 1,4-Dichlorobenzene along the fence line.

My voice shook as I telephoned their house.  I let Cindy know that I had recently been treated for a high grade aggressive cancer, and that mothballs were very toxic.

"I'm SORRY that you have cancer, but I don't like snakes."  I repeated my message about the toxicity of the mothballs, so Cindy asked if I had gone "bitchin' and moanin'" to the other neighbors when they painted their houses or put gas in their cars.

Cindy's tirade continued another minute or two.  I grew tired of holding the telephone and hung up.  We left for New York City the next day, where the glass and concrete were an odd comfort.

This past weekend, I was invited to an awards ceremony at the Nicholas School for the Environment at Duke University.  A long line of graduating students walked by, each committed to improving the world by cultivating clean energy, managing coastlines, or developing government policy to protect the environment. 

Around the time of my own graduation, the Cuyahoga River caught fire. Children were poisoned by buried chemicals in Love Canal.  And Three Mile Island nearly experienced a nuclear meltdown.  At work, no company had a program for corporate responsibility and at home, no one had a recycling bin. 

At the graduation event at the Nicholas School, the long line of strong committed faces raised hopes for the future.  We have come some distance, but there is still much to be done.

Good luck, little sparrow.  Best wishes for much success in wherever life takes you.