8:55 a.m. - 2002-11-20
Banging My Head
Ever since my anti-nuclear power protesting days, I've avoided enviro-political stuff like the plague. It's not that I don't care about the environment (obviously if I'm ranting about people studying in their cars WITH THE ENGINES ON! I care immensely) but it's more of a feeling that....I don't want to bang my head against a brick wall anymore. Which is what I feel like when dealing with large environmental groups working against the government or developers.
The thing about banging your head against brick walls is that it feels so great when you stop.
So I have tried to make it a personal struggle instead - you know, railing against people studying in their cars WITH THE ENGINES RUNNING! and buying this wonderfully ecologically sound house which is twice as big as our last house yet uses far less gas and electricity, and pulling out all the invasive English Ivy in the back yard and putting in a native plant garden instead. The personal is political, right?
It looks, however, like I may go back to banging my head again. Bruce went to Tressville, down by Birmingham, last night for a planning meeting on the Cahaba River watershed development. He was asked to go by Ned M., who is a large figure in the environmentalists scene here. Ned is an environmental lawyer who is most famous for sueing the Fish and Wildlife people to get the Alabama Sturgeon listed as an endangered species. He won, too. He's very concerned about the Cahaba River and is trying to get some scientists involved to counter the developers assertions that the river can be developed into hell and gone.
So I went along for the ride, and to be a warm body on the right side.
It actually wasn't so bad. Yes, the developers were sleazy. My favorite quote: When asked about how water quality would be affected by development one of them said:" Well, it's very hard to improve water quality. I mean, your talking lots of money to see significant improvement. We could improve it a little, but most likely it just won't get worse. Or, um, well, maybe a little worse, or....um...well, I think I'll stop there."
The bastards!
The good thing was that there were many, many people there, and not just the heathen, unwashed enviro-hippies either, who were very concerned about the river and weren't letting the developers do their slimey thing. Every sleezy answer got called on quite stridently, and I think in the end the developers were a bit unnerved. When we talked to Ned afterward he said that he didn't even know a lot of the people there. "Which is a good sign, because I know everybody! If I don't know them then they're new to this, so a lot of people must be getting concerned."
I guess maybe there's hope for the river. Which is good. It's the only river in the world that has the beautiful Cahaba Lily growing in it.
Maybe I'll go back to my old activist life after all. I'm due for some headbanging.
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The drive home was a bit scary. Our oil light went on, fortunately at a gas station, and we had to put two quarts of oil in the car. Two quarts! Have I been on Mars or something? I guess I haven't put any in since summer. There was also a spectacular fog, and at one point we couldn't see more than twenty feet in front of the car.
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I couldn't go to bed when we got home so instead I called cousin John in Australia. I tend to call John when I'm feeling insomniac because when it's late at night here it's the middle of the afternoon there. Very convenient.
John's wife Betty answered the phone. She has the most fabulous voice - deep, husky, and with a beautiful London accent. I can just see her in a black glittery dress drinking a gin and tonic, although actually she's more likely to be found in bowling shoes. Betty loves bowling.
John was all excited to tell me about meeting my other cousins. "We've all got the family toes, love!" he chirped.
"The toes?" I'm floored.
"The family toes! You know, all the family has very, very large big toes! All of us! And they have them, too! Just huge, they are! You know, I never asked you about your toes!"
This is a question that begs to be asked: Who was the first person to notice this, and under what circumstances?!
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