I wish I could say I was environmentally correct all the time, but that’s simply not the case. I’m not totally green by a long shot…actually I’m more teal…or celadon…mint perhaps.
I try to recycle everything…opt for glass rather than plastic…wrap every magazine and manila envelope in twine, but like Lucy at the candy factory, sometimes things just get away from me.
It can’t seem to be helped.
There’s a woman I know who, whenever she sees me drinking plastic bottled water, gives me dirty looks. Then on cue, to prove her point, pulls out a metal thermos filled with filtered water from her very own tap and takes a swig.
How I want to slam her for that politically correct self-righteousness.
I’ve learned, it’s what you do, not what you don’t do. When I wash out a milk carton, or give my little cardboard sleeve back at Starbucks before I leave, I’m attempting to do good. Am I perfect? Absolutely not, nor want to be…I’m human after all, and perfection produces too much pressure.
I send money on behalf of the polar bears that are in trouble in the Arctic. Thinking of them clutching ice cubes for dear life has made an impression. It haunts me actually. I even have a T-shirt that says: GLOBAL WARMING IS UNBEARABLE, with two bears perched on a melting glacier.
Sometimes I worry about the birds, and how confused they must be not knowing when to head south anymore, so I give money to an organization that pays attention to their plight, or flight if you will.
Separating my trash is something I usually do, but once in a while fatigue takes over and I forget.
I think lecturing someone over global warming doesn’t really do much. Teaching by demonstration is the better way to go.
That’s why Al Gore’s film, The Inconvenient Truth, hit it right out of the park. He didn’t go on the lecture circuit shaking his finger at anyone. He educated instead. That’s the way we learn…gently, without being told how God awful we are.
I personally loath those who litter. If I see someone drop a candy wrapper or a still lit cigarette, though infuriating, I don’t yell at them. I go pick it up and make sure they see me.
Is that effective? I don’t know, but it brings to mind a little girl I knew long ago whose mom taught her…that anytime someone littered, the earth would hurt.
Imagine a five-year old gallantly going over to someone saying in the sweetest of tones…”excuse me…but mother earth just said ouch.”
I tell myself, teal is better than beige and doing ones best is the best we can hope for from our human, imperfect selves…
or anyone else for that matter.