Changing The Subject, Drastically

AT WORK in the kitchen at the senior center, reminding me that I was once, not so long ago, retired, my forty one year old supervisor will not retire for a long time, because she has seven children, six of whom are still under her roof, though a few are approaching independence, such as it is these days. These days, parental dependency can linger long into adulthood, due to pervasive economic circumstances. She has a flurry of grand children on their way, and the number of great grand children is incalculable. The other worker is an older lady with three adolescents of her own, so the two of them talk about their families at length on a daily basis. I'm sixty three, childless and wifeless, and retired, or I used to be, so, I don't care. Let them drone on; they have much in common. Its all about what this child said, what that child did, and what this or that child should or should not have said and done. And of course, its all well and good, let them drone on. Well and good, except for a vaguely disquieting thought lurking in the back of my troubled, albeit child free mind. It must be surpassingly fulfilling to be a mother, and to share the experience with someone who really understands, to share all experiences of raising a flock of children, as each child moves through the various stages of growth, and to compare notes and anecdotes, large, small, profound and trivial. But still and all, there is something missing in what I catch of the conversations as I move around the kitchen, collecting dirty dishes and turning them into clean ones, taking out garbage, frying a few potatoes, boxing up meals for Meals On Wheels. A disconcerting sense of something missing. Where is the concern for the future? Not about money for college, or career choices, or even next year's grades. That'll all come; these are working class folk, and the presumption is for working class careers for the kids. No, something more dire, but less immediate, and yet...more immediate. Where I live, its eighty five degrees in October, all October, every October now, and twenty years ago this was not the case, because I can remember well, and I have paid attention. The climate is changing, fast. By my reckoning, and more importantly by the reckoning of nearly all of the world's scientists, unless drastic action is taken very soon, the planet's climate will not only be unrecognizable within a few decades, it may well be unlivable. Already the process is very much with us. Where I live, spring begins in early February, rather than late March. Summers are long and hot, and extend through the month of October. The tress, which not so long ago were changing color by the first of October, now wait until Halloween, or after, most years. And in winter, it rarely snows anymore. I live well inland, but in coastal areas, the ocean is starting to encroach upon the land, dramatically and daily. So what about my coworker's grandchildren, and great grandchildren? Even their children will be alive sixty years from now, and by that time, the change in climate will already be extreme, assuming the climate change deniers and corporations continue to have their way, and we ween off of fossil fuels too slowly, as seems to be the prevailing plan. The mega fossil fuel companies now openly admit the truth, and their role in it, but they do not hide the fact that they want to take their money with them when they get out of the business, and they seem not to be in any urgent hurry to divest and change. And my friends in the kitchen? What would I have them do different? Oh, not much, really. Maybe a neatly written letter or two to a fuel company exec or two, maybe a phone call or email to someone in congress, telling the business executives about their children and oncoming grand children, and their hopes and dreams. And maybe even a word or two in the kitchen about the irresponsible leaders we seem stuck with. And maybe just a quick pic or two, a selfie of the entire family, sent out to our representatives, smiling faces full of hopes and dreams for a healthy, fruitful future.