One great pleasure that’s emerged since the election has been that Donald Trump has not been on my mind or dominating my Facebook feed. That’s probably what’s making him most crazy now. He didn’t care if it was agony or ecstasy as long as we were focused totally on him. I look back at my Facebook feed with pleasure at the limited number of anger emoji’s still there, and it feels very good for my emotional health. Hope it’s working for you too.
Having survived that, nineteen days from the inauguration is high time to start planning for a different world. It’s not something we want to leave up to the politicians… we know how that comes out. We need a vision to guide us as we fight it out over the direction this country will take.
It’s important that the vision be grounded in the firm demand that the world must work for everybody. Rights and well-being for people, planet and community. If we start out agreeing on that we know we’re moving in a good direction.
So what form… what daily life… what sounds and sweet odors waft through this vision?
I think today I want to whip up a lil one — a vision — to test out this idea. I think I’ll imagine the world of my precious and now-2-year-old great grandson. His name is Kingston. He’s lively and smart and adorable. And what will his world be like in 20 years? This is my fantasy, not his. I’m sure he’s started working on his own already.
Kingston grew up after the pandemics had started. So most of his schooling and socialization happened online. He got used to friends on screens and in worlds like multi-player games, and only during virus-safe times did they meet in person.
I’m so glad that he has a happy and stable family, because so many kids didn’t have that, and as things got more unsettled it was extremely hard for them. Kingston’s whole life has been dominated by western fire seasons, intense storms, droughts, and people forced to flee from one place to another for safety.
He graduated from high school in 2035 during the most intense storm season ever recorded. Even in the mid-west that used to be calm, the danger was so intense that houses were now built to seal up during storms. “Storm window” meant an encasement that sealed securely into frameworks designed to withstand winds up to 200 miles per hour. Since 2025 homes were built with this in mind, and could be subterranean, or aerodynamically oriented to the prevailing winds. The high-end homes were smart homes that included weather and fire sensing technology that warned home owners to prepare when needed and even performed some functions automatically. Lower and mid-range homes were more hands-on, but the technology was available to everyone through government readiness programs.
Kingston thought about becoming a builder when he grew up. It was a good field that paid really well. But his junior year of high school something happened that changed all that.
The Youth Environmental Corps had started up a few years earlier. It had in-person groups in most high schools, including his, and all the really cool kids belonged. It also had apps so that members were connected no matter where they were, and whatever the pandemic of the day might be doing. His generation was already adept at jumping from personal to virtual reality in a snap. When it was safe, Kingston and his friends did lots of things through YEC, like stream clean-ups, hikes, repair trails, mountain biking and the most fun stuff.
That year was bad. Just bad. The western fires were bad. Droughts in Mexico and Texas were bad. Gulf storms were the worst ever. The YEC sites were all flashing news of the destruction, with pictures of wasted communities and dead animals.
On July 10th the third bad storm of the season hit. The images coming out now were of Lafayette, LA. That’s where Kingston’s family visited his dad’s friend when he was a kid. He had vivid memories of huge trees growing out of swamp, the air full of strange bird song, and an alligator in the yard of the cabin. It was a magical memory of a place reeking of beautiful strangeness.
Now the images were of those giant trees ripped down and bird bodies strewn among trash over roadways. One picture was of a brilliant blue crane or something, its long elegant neck stretched lifelessly across a green automobile hood on its side pushed up against a storefront. Some god had pitched it there as it strode angrily over the parrish wreaking its revenge for human foolishness. It was elegant even in death.
Suddenly the storms became real for him and he knew what he had to do. He’d already texted his YEC leader when he went to his mom and dad sitting in the living room.
They knew something was up. When he said “I’m joining a cleanup team in Louisiana with YEC,” he wasn’t asking permission. They looked at each other in surprise. Mom said matter-of-factly. “You can’t do that. The storm season just started. It’s dangerous, and you’re only 15.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished she hadn’t said it. There was that look on his face that said he was now more determined than ever to do whatever it was. She recognized it instantly because he inherited it from her. At the same instant she realized that this kid standing in her living room was ready to be a man. It was terrifying. He was still such a clutz!
In the tense silence Kingston’s dad said “maybe I should go along. They always need adult sponsors.”
Mom breathed a deep breath and said…. “maybe you’re ready to take on a big challenge?”
The gratifying thing was watching him react. He clearly thought she’d never say anything like that. That either one would say anything like that. Maybe without a battle he’d change his mind.
But that was not to be. By the time Kingston graduated from high school the following year he’d become a skilled team member in YEC’s new project to rebuild coastal mangroves and bayou forests. It was one of few effective things to protect the hard-hit coasts from storms and surges.
Over the years the clutzy teen became an expert in swamp forestry and wildlife. He was at home in the remaining deep cypress forests and propagating saplings that were planted all up and down the gulf coasts.
It was hard work. Over his 50 year career in the YEC and Forest Service the storms never abated. Replanted forests were wiped out repeatedly and replanted by generations of devoted Youth Corps members who saw coastal restoration as their calling.
All over the country, and other youth teams across the globe, young people set up community camps within the environmental areas they were rebuilding. They studied the area with devout attention, learning the native plants, the water and weather patterns, the issues of pollution, erosion, degradation their area faced. They got to know natives of the area to learn more, and spent lifetimes replanting, reweaving, and protecting the sliver of Earth they were present to love. In some ways they were becoming the new indigenous people of the Earth as she healed.
Like all those young folks, Kingston loved the plants, birds and wild things in his swamp home. His service to care for the earth never ended.
One evening in early spring his family were all there to visit. His cabin was in a cluster of other Corps members houses, with stores, coffee shops, a clinic, and a school his kids attended. The Corps members worked together on continuing restoration and lived here year-round. They’d been forced to rebuild their village a couple of times after storms, but they never gave up believing that what they were doing was helping to protect the Earth and the coasts and was worth their energy to keep it growing.
The family all sat together on Kingston’s cabin porch, laughing, talking and listened to bird calls from the Atchafalaya Refuge. It was still vibrantly alive because Kingston and many others were pouring their lives and hearts into making something whole that had once been damaged beyond belief.
May it be so, or even better.
Welcome 2021 and a future that works for people, planet and communities of life everywhere.
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