You can teach a student a lesson for a day; but if you can teach him to learn by creating curiosity, he will continue the learning process as long as he lives. - Clay P. Bedford

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Waste

Yesterday, I took my children on a road trip to one of the big cities we live in fairly close proximity to.  It was a mixture of fun and git-r-done; the new headboard we ordered to match Reezle's bedroom set, well, didn't.  And since it weighed somewhere in the neighborhood of 956,422 pounds, shipping it back would have cost the rough approximate of a decent down payment on a house; it was easier, albeit not by much, to just load it up and drive it to the store.  And we really needed a day out after the miserable bout of stomach virus that gripped our household for almost three solid weeks.  Hell, let me tell you.

The first thing I noticed about the city was that everyone was in such a big damn hurry to get absolutely nowhere.  I had several people take exceptional risks to pass me (I am not a slow driver, my past speeding tickets can attest to this - but I'm also not a stupid driver), one guy almost causing two massive wrecks to get about four car lengths ahead of me to a red light.  And for what?

I laughed a little to myself, both when I thought this yesterday and as I typed it just now.  I used to be the person in the big damn hurry.  I used to be more than a little impatient as I would sit behind the wheel offering expletive-filled driving instructions and advice to the so-and-sos in front of me.  I guess 12 years in the rural Midwest has changed my perspective on a lot of things.

The other thing I noticed was waste; from the shopping carts that were replaced despite being in near-new condition compared to the ones that work just fine at our local stores to the destruction of acres upon acres of land to put up more concrete structures.  We can't maintain this, whether it's the fossil fuels we're haphazardly wasting, or the buildings that will all lay in ruin once our economy collapses and no one can afford to care for them, we're going to eventually be catapulted rather painfully back to a simpler life.  That in mind, why not scale back now?  Why not take care of what we have and work harder, all of us, on a more sustainable way of life?


On the drive home, I appreciated the simplicity of our little corner of the map.  As houses grew farther apart and farms and fields of corn and grapes became the norm, I thought back a few years to a time when I wanted to live in the city more than just about anything in the world.  I had thoroughly loved Houston, Texas when we visited in 2005 and 2006, and was quite insistent that it was worth dropping everything here and heading down there.  I'm so glad we didn't, for I would now be a part of exactly what I've come to realize must change.

My perspective on many things has changed substantially in the past 7 years.  While the thought of having stores within walking distance and all kinds of fun buildings to go isolate myself from nature and entertain myself within once appealed to me very much, raising children and realizing the state of our world has caused me to re-evaluate how life should be lived.  I've developed a new appreciation for locally-grown, natural, earth-friendly, and non-polluted.  We can enjoy modern conveniences in moderation without destroying the one place we have to call home.  But largely, we don't.  We waste like it's our job, from the overpriced gas-guzzling Hummers to the three serving sizes of beef that supports animal cruelty, Monsanto, Big Pharma, and that new cardiology wing at the hospital all at once.

Sadly, I realized that, while change is coming, it's coming slowly.  It's going to take the skyrocketing price of fuels, getting knocked off-grid by some solar flare, or who knows what kind of mess for people to realize - too late - that we should have done something while we still could.  I fear for a society where modern conveniences have become life-sustaining necessities.  We're devolving.

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