Cooking on Planet Kitchen

A few nights back, I attended a talk on climate change, the extent of it, and how we might yet bail ourselves out from the inevitable disaster that awaits if we don’t change our wasteful ways.

Sponsoring the event was the Union of Concerned Scientists, a group that during any other period in American history would be viewed as non-partisan. That, they still are, except that the federal government is now run by an administration that is openly and aggressively anti-science. That leaves scientists no choice but to contradict the federal agencies that, under any other president, would have depended on them. By default, that allies them with the only nationally viable political party that has not turned itself into a cult of personality.

Granted, the Reagan Administration dismissed solar power and the electric car, favoring an economy that favored Republican donors. However, the debate was always open, and scientists were not publicly demonized as anti-American and “woke.” Moreover, medical and other scientific research funds were not slashed as they were last year. Back then, the label “conservative” and the concept of “conservation” were as compatible as the words themselves. It was the Nixon Administration, after all, that initiated the Environmental Protection Agency following a State of the Union Address that warned:

We have been too tolerant [i.e. careless] of our surroundings and too willing to leave it to others to clean up our environment. It is time for those who make massive demands on society to make some minimal demands on themselves.

Sounds like a call for regulation to me, and the early ’70s were noted by the UCS speaker as a hopeful time for environmentalists. Beaches at lakes across America were reopened for swimming, including Lake Erie that had been declared dead in what may have been network television’s first expose. Ugly orange-brown clouds disappeared from cities from New York to Denver and to the West Coast where Jimmy Buffett “spent four lonely days in a brown LA haze.”

Before us the other night, tracking the advances and set-backs of the environmental movement since the first “Earth Day” in 1970 was Erika Spanger, UCS’s Director of Strategic Climate Analytics. I knew her before she was born, and now there she is with slightly graying hair atop her tall, elegant posture, telling me and an audience more my age than hers about a crisis that her kids and my grandkids will be left to solve.

Amazing how she resembles both of her parents. Both friends of mine back at Salem State, they were likely in the gathering with me when that first Earth Day was observed in the year of her birth, as they were in various anti-war demonstrations. And it was likely the next summer that she was with several of us on a camping trip up by Mount Chocorua, carried along in a picnic basket as we moved between lake and campground. Her dad and I challenged each other to a race up a tree, the same tree, the two of us on opposite sides. Erika’s mom and my girlfriend looked up in horror, while between them the little face in the wicker basket grew smaller and smaller. Chuck and I didn’t stop until we remembered that we were already high.

The talk was as informative as it was sobering. She spoke of a 2030 deadline for a significant reduction in emissions, but that was already established when we still had ten years left to meet it. Little has happened to help the cause. To the contrary, the anti-science government of the USA has taken us out of the Paris Accords and gutted most all regulations of the energy industry. Now, she holds out hope for a strategy ironically called “overshoot,” but she realizes that we are stuck, for at least another year, with a government that will not shoot at all.*

My apologies for the lack of quotes, but the swoon of nostalgia didn’t allow me to take notes. Whitman famously wandered out of a talk on astronomy to behold the night sky’s stars; my mind wandered from a talk on our future to go living in the past. Not just Erika standing before me, but her uncle seated next to me, a ringer for his late-brother, and my cousin’s high school basketball coach at Pentucket High School where he also taught Earth Sciences. Could say that stewardship of the Earth runs in the Spanger family.

But I can offer a good idea of her talk by quoting last July’s entry in her UCS-endorsed blog, “The Equation,” in which she declares:

“If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen” loses its bite when the whole planet is the kitchen, and we’re just starting to cook. 

Yes, she’s one of those writers I’d much rather plagiarize than quote, but science, her long suit, is nowhere in my hand, so here’s the conclusion of her blog which serves as a fair summary of her talk last week, a conclusion titled, “If you can’t take the heat, organize the kitchen”:

What can we do? The list is long and—let’s be clear—needs to be part of a longer-term transformation of our society and economy. But there are things we can do today:

We’ll obviously need to get ourselves some worthy, qualified leaders first chance we get, lean hard into mitigating and building resilience to climate change, and do more, better, faster.

Ah, there’s that attempt at impartiality when it just isn’t possible to be impartial. Those who are undoing all of our climate agreements and regulations for clean air and water are on one side of the Congressional aisle. They call themselves “the Republican Party,” but they are far from anything that ever included Lincoln, Eisenhower, or either George Bush–nor are they a party, but a cult.

If by “worthy” and “qualified” she means those willing to consider the Green New Deal in whole or even in part, and if the verb “need to get” means candidates who have a chance to win elections, then that leaves the one remaining, viable, national party.

Am I not “impartial” enough to forecast what we need after we get through what will likely be yet another record-breaking hot summer? We’ll see. As Erika Spanger writes:

In the meantime, try to stay cool.

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*A Primer on “overshoot”:

A USA Today report from 2019 of school walkouts around the globe. This photo was taken in Vienna.
https://www.usatoday.com/picture-gallery/news/world/2019/03/15/friday-future-students-protest-global-warming-inaction/3178535002/

A Lot We Do Know

In a supermarket in Fort Myers, two women trade notes about news from family back in the North of Canadian wildfires, poor air quality, difficulty breathing. One uses the term “climate change,” and the other agrees that the severity of the fires and the unprecedented smoke is a consequence.

A man overhears and rushes toward them, speaking loudly with the emphasis of a jabbing index finger aside his face: “No! People light fires! Not climate change! People! People light fires!”

No matter how loud his voice, with it we hear the echo of “Guns don’t kill people! People kill people!” And so a canned excuse to deny the need for gun control–even modest regulations that would still allow any sane adult to obtain one or more–is adapted to deny climate change.

For the record, the fires in Ontario are the result of a prolonged, record-annihilating drought rendering forests vulnerable to bolts of lightning. Unlike the firing of a bullet, there’s “no human required.”

Put it that way, and denialists such as the fellow in Fort Myers may simply reverse objection. If people are innocent, then nothing can be done. Contradiction? Maybe, but the aim is the same: Inaction.

Guns’ rights advocates also have an alternate objection to any attempt at regulation. They’d never call it an “objection,” but it serves as one, and they sure as hell know it. Works like an anesthetic. We hear it all the time, some of us repeat it:

Thoughts and Prayers.


On a local television station in Des Moines, a meteorologist begins linking changes in Iowa weather patterns to human-driven changes in Mother Earth’s climate. Days later, citing mounting harassment and death threats, he resigns.

Another adaptation? Yes or no, this has been happening at polling venues all across the country where long-time poll workers have been harrassed and threatened for not excluding certain batches of votes–usually those delivered from precincts with large minority populations. Many have quit their jobs; some have moved to other towns.

An elderly woman and her daughter in Georgia went into hiding after Donald Trump accused them of counting cases full of what he called fabricated Biden votes, showing a surveillance video of them handing a case. Never mind that the case later proved to be legit, Fox News played the insinuating video on a loop and the MAGA crowd fell for it.

Did I mention that the two women were African-American? Do you think that might have mattered to the MAGA crowd? How so?

But those questions take us off subject. Question to get back is this: Will other meteorologists ever start telling their viewers of the connections of extreme droughts, severe storms, and increasing erosion to climate change? Or will the threat of violence in America’s heartland keep them presenting daily weather–from 115-degree days in the Pacific Northwest to a deep freeze in Texas, from ruined apple and pear crops in New England to floods along the Mississippi–with smiles and jokes and soothing laughter?

I’d ask why every woman meteorologist I ever see is always dressed in clothes so tight, she’d be far more comfortable and her smiles more convincing if the desired colors were just painted on, but that question might be off-limits for an unpreferred pronoun.


From all over the country we can add similar stories, both from local news and from friends and relatives who witness it first hand.

Over the years, my friend in Santa Rosa has described encounters much like that in Fort Myers regarding a full range of environmental disasters from flooding and mudslides to wildfires.  This week my friends in Vermont are posting pictures of raging rivers flooding places where floods have never before been seen, only to gain comments that deny the obvious cause.

Our attempts to penetrate this wall of denialism has been difficult enough, but I’m afraid we are making it worse by accepting, agreeing with, and even parroting the ultimate denial that is now gaining traction. First noticed it last month in the statements of congressional Republicans looking to cut American aid to Ukraine–and last week, aimed at me for publically taking a side in a local controversy:

There’s a lot we don’t know.

Well, of course! We know little of the history between Russia and Ukraine, but we do know who invaded whom. We know little of the inner workings of a public institution, but when a conflict becomes public, we know who makes it public.*

Such controversies raise questions that must be asked, not buried under the rug of “There’s a lot we don’t know.” The line is insidious. Because it can be applied to anything, it describes nothing. But it does serve as an all-purpose rationale for inaction.

There’s a lot we don’t know about climate change, but there’s more than enough that we do know. If we don’t use it to confront the finger-jabbers that cross our paths and rally behind scientists willing to tell us what is real rather than what is comfortable, ha-ha-ha, the forecast is obvious.

Not to mention as hopeless as “thoughts and prayers.”

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*This refers to the Newburyport Public Library, a conflict described in my recent blogs, “No City for Volunteers” and “American Zeitgeist.”

Penguins on My Phone

Many joyous phone calls this weekend, including a few from the West Coast, the Gulf Coast, and the North Coast, as folks in northern Ohio fancy the shores of Lake Erie.

My Gulf Coast friend was quick to name America’s re-entry into the Paris Climate Accords as cause for celebration. I should have paid more attention when she mentioned penguins. When she added how cute they are, I was unable to resist telling her what Herman Melville had to say.

Fresh on my mind because I read it just months ago, one hot, humid Sunday on the beach. Suffice to say that people sitting double social-distance on both sides turned toward me, wondering at my loudest LOL since watching Tombstone over 30 years ago.

When my West Coast friend mentioned penguins the next day, the context was already sobering. While Americans on or well-within all four coasts are understandably consumed by our Lower-48’s problems–drought, mudslides, erosion, hurricanes, floods, tornadoes, and, in her Northern Californian case, fires–few of us have noticed the rate at which Antarctica is breaking up and floating as much as melting away.

To the point that, just as hurricanes have names, icebergs now have numbers by which oceanographers trace them and issue warnings to Pacific islands and to towns on the shores of New Zealand, Australia, Chile. Penguins are at their mercy. Dire warnings of their extinction began appearing three years ago, coming from Audubon, the National Science Foundation, the World Wildlife Fund, National Geographic, PBS, and the list stretches like the very threatened coasts they hope to save.

For so long we have seen so many photos of polar bears in the Arctic, that climate-change deniers make a joke of them. After listening to West Coast, I regretted having told Gulf Coast of Melville’s 160-year-old anti-penguin rant.

Until North Coast called the next day. When I told her of my faux pas, she reminded me of what happened in her own stomping grounds 50 years ago. When Randy Newman wrote a satirical song about the Cuyahoga River catching fire, he raised awareness for the environmental push to clean Lake Erie.

She reminded me of a quote that I used in a manuscript that she edited five years ago. She couldn’t recall it verbatim, nor can I, but it was from Salman Rushdie’s defense of religious satire when England considered a ban following the Charlie Hebdo shootings in Paris in 2015. In paraphrase:

Jokes are thoughts; laughter is thinking.

Made me feel better, so much so that I no sooner thanked her than started razzing her as I often do about the name, North Coast. “Erie is a Great Lake. But not that great.”

So, in that spirit, here’s Melville’s paragraph–which a group called Secret Base Media Club turned into a blog headlined “Herman Melville Hates Penguins.” May the environmentalists among you use it to call attention to the plight of the penguin and climate change, perhaps by turning it into something like Randy Newman’s “Burn On” with the help of a clever song-writer:


From “Sketch Third” of Herman Melville’s Las Encantadas (aka The Galapagos)

(describing the lowest level of Rodondo, “the aviary of the Ocean,” an island on which one ascends “from shelf to shelf”)

What outlandish beings are these?  Erect as men, but hardly as symmetrical, they stand all around the rock like sculpted caryatides,* supporting the next range of eaves above.  Their bodies are grotesquely misshapen; their bills short; their feet seemingly legless; while the members at their sides are neither fin, wing, nor arm.  And truly, neither fish, flesh, nor fowl is the penguin; as an edible, pertaining to neither Carnival nor Lent; without exception the most ambiguous and least lovely creature yet discovered by man.  Though dabbling in all three elements, and indeed possessing some rudimental claim to all, the penguin is at home in none.  On land it stumps; afloat it sculls; in the air it flops.  As if ashamed of her failure, Nature keeps this ungainly child hidden away at the ends of the earth, in the Straits of Magellan, and on the abased sea-story of Rodondo.

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*Caryatid:  a stone carving of a draped female figure, used as a pillar to support the entablature of a Greek or Greek-style building: