Tubing
As to last week's blog, the lie was tubing. I don't tube. Several summers ago my husband whipped me around the lake on a tube, with me hanging onto the grips much like we hang onto life. The next moment, a rather liquor polluted young woman in a boat decided to run straight at us. To save me and the boat, my husband did a 180 in the lake. The next thing I knew I was airborn. I could hear my family yelling, "Let go of the rope!" But I couldn't. I hung on til the dang thing was ripped from my hands. The next thing I knew I hit the water and like a skipping stone, rolled 5 times until I came to a stop, face down in the water.
I don't remember much of what happened after that. Someone helped me into the boat, but I felt like my brains were on fire. For the next week, I hurt like the dickens and it took weeks for the pain to completely diminish.
Consequently, I don't tube anymore. However, the incident is still talked and laughed about to this day. By my family of course, certainly not by me.
On the Gulf Oil Spill
The Gulf oil disaster has made me, like many others, think about what we are doing drilling in deep water. The deaths of sea creatures has made me cry, the dolphin, the pelican, the myriad other creatures that live in the sea now searching for oxygen much like we gasp for air when we are terminally ill.
On a beautiful Saturday morning, I looked around my living room and counted all things plastic from my place on the floor. They included my VCR/DVD box, that new flat screen 42 inch television I just HAD to have, my carpet, the synthetic material that makes up our recliner, couch, and love seat. Then there's the resin that makes my coffee and end tables shine, the paint on my walls, the paint on our artwork.
I glanced outside my window and thought of the tar that makes up my street, at my car and saw the tires, the gasoline, imagined the insulation cables, wiring and I could go on and on. I spoke with my daughter about ways to conserve and we came to the realization that to give up plastic and oil based products would greatly affect our lives both financially and emotionally. I don't have the answer for our dependence on foreign oil, but I do know that I will make a more concerted effort to recycle.
However, even if everyone recycled it still won't bring back our great gulf states. The one promise I can make, is that I will never, ever buy water in plastic bottles again. One water bottle and a purifier works just as well.
It is important to remember this: Each life snuffed out takes a piece of ourselves with it. One less bird, one less dolphin, one less piece of our planet goes on. I don't normally wax poetic, but for some reason, this spill, leak, underwater volcano, has really hit home.
One morning as I miserably sat and watched oil gush from beneath the sea my son asked me, "What are you going to do about it?
I said, "Huh?"
He said, "What can you do? I mean really Mom, what CAN you do?"
I answered, "I don't know, give money?"
"You can do that, but maybe, the next time you see a homeless person you might buy him lunch. Or you can pass on a little kindness with a gesture of flowers. Get involved in your local community, step up in church."
Suddenly, I felt better. "I can do all those things."
"There you go," he said. "If you CAN'T clean up the oil, you CAN make a difference in other people's lives."
I wondered, after watching my son head off to fish, where did I get such a smart kid?
As to last week's blog, the lie was tubing. I don't tube. Several summers ago my husband whipped me around the lake on a tube, with me hanging onto the grips much like we hang onto life. The next moment, a rather liquor polluted young woman in a boat decided to run straight at us. To save me and the boat, my husband did a 180 in the lake. The next thing I knew I was airborn. I could hear my family yelling, "Let go of the rope!" But I couldn't. I hung on til the dang thing was ripped from my hands. The next thing I knew I hit the water and like a skipping stone, rolled 5 times until I came to a stop, face down in the water.
I don't remember much of what happened after that. Someone helped me into the boat, but I felt like my brains were on fire. For the next week, I hurt like the dickens and it took weeks for the pain to completely diminish.
Consequently, I don't tube anymore. However, the incident is still talked and laughed about to this day. By my family of course, certainly not by me.
On the Gulf Oil Spill
The Gulf oil disaster has made me, like many others, think about what we are doing drilling in deep water. The deaths of sea creatures has made me cry, the dolphin, the pelican, the myriad other creatures that live in the sea now searching for oxygen much like we gasp for air when we are terminally ill.
On a beautiful Saturday morning, I looked around my living room and counted all things plastic from my place on the floor. They included my VCR/DVD box, that new flat screen 42 inch television I just HAD to have, my carpet, the synthetic material that makes up our recliner, couch, and love seat. Then there's the resin that makes my coffee and end tables shine, the paint on my walls, the paint on our artwork.
I glanced outside my window and thought of the tar that makes up my street, at my car and saw the tires, the gasoline, imagined the insulation cables, wiring and I could go on and on. I spoke with my daughter about ways to conserve and we came to the realization that to give up plastic and oil based products would greatly affect our lives both financially and emotionally. I don't have the answer for our dependence on foreign oil, but I do know that I will make a more concerted effort to recycle.
However, even if everyone recycled it still won't bring back our great gulf states. The one promise I can make, is that I will never, ever buy water in plastic bottles again. One water bottle and a purifier works just as well.
It is important to remember this: Each life snuffed out takes a piece of ourselves with it. One less bird, one less dolphin, one less piece of our planet goes on. I don't normally wax poetic, but for some reason, this spill, leak, underwater volcano, has really hit home.
One morning as I miserably sat and watched oil gush from beneath the sea my son asked me, "What are you going to do about it?
I said, "Huh?"
He said, "What can you do? I mean really Mom, what CAN you do?"
I answered, "I don't know, give money?"
"You can do that, but maybe, the next time you see a homeless person you might buy him lunch. Or you can pass on a little kindness with a gesture of flowers. Get involved in your local community, step up in church."
Suddenly, I felt better. "I can do all those things."
"There you go," he said. "If you CAN'T clean up the oil, you CAN make a difference in other people's lives."
I wondered, after watching my son head off to fish, where did I get such a smart kid?
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