Sundays, during my childhood, meant making the arduous trek over hill and hollow to my maternal grandparents’ house for dinner. The scenic journey along state Route 11 bordered patchwork-quilt farms, wound between walls of sheer rock, and skirted pitch black openings in the hillside that ignited my childish imagination, all the while roughly paralleling the south fork of the Kentucky River. Oftentimes I spent the duration with my nose in a book, singing with my sisters, or listening to my mother tell stories of growing up and rarely traveling beyond those hills. So familiar was this trip that I can still close my eyes and retrace its meandering course.
On one such Sunday excursion, when I was about eight-years-old, my father suddenly proclaimed, “Look out the window girls. Take a good look around. The world will never again look exactly the same as it does today.” I begged to differ, pointing out that it looked just like it did the last time we drove this way. He explained that while it may appear to be the same, it wasn’t. The leaves on the trees had changed color, even if only slightly. Leaves had fallen. Different clouds were in the sky. Different water was flowing down the river. Prior to this conversation, I had considered the Earth as merely a backdrop against which my life was meant to unfold. But in that moment, the Earth became a living entity, with a life of its own, and the seeds of my environmental conscience had been sown.
Having been allowed to revel in nature as a youngster – climbing trees, catching all manner of creatures, exploring the woods in search of fairies and wildflowers – the transition from casual observer to student and steward came about quite naturally with the guidance my father provided. He taught me to identify trees by their leaves, birds by their song and plumage, and the constellations by their pattern of stars. He explained the life cycle, the water cycle, and rainbows. While I may not have completely comprehended the words, the wonderment with which he conveyed this information was contagious. He made it clear that the ability to explain a phenomenon renders it no less miraculous.
These vivid recollections were stirred up recently by an email exchange with my son. He suggested I write an article exploring the role of parents in influencing environmental awareness in their children. When asked what the goal of the article would be, he replied, “to encourage parents to raise strong advocates for the Earth who adhere to environmentally responsible practices”. Inspired by his passion, I began to explore the origins of my own. In doing so, I discovered what my father had given me, by sharing his appreciation, knowledge, and respect for nature, was a connection to the Earth. This connection is the basis for my actions and decision making regarding the environment. The legacy of creating such a connection to the Earth is one I endeavor to pass on to my sons.
Lately, I have noticed people, of all ages, who fail to have any contact with nature in the course of their entire day. From the time they rise in the morning until they retire at night, they have not stepped foot on actual ground or grass, they have not encountered a living, wild creature, they have not experienced the weather as anything other than something they seek to avoid while getting from one place to another. I cannot help but wonder what the implications of this disconnection from nature might be.
My fear is that this lack of relationship with the natural world contributes to indifference. Those who are ignorant of, or even worse, refuse to acknowledge the delicate balance between complex systems and the devastating effects of shifting or destroying that balance, are easily persuaded to adopt and support practices that potentially cause irreparable damage to our planet, especially if they mean to benefit financially. They are operating on the misguided notion that they will be immune to the consequeces.
Suggesting that human activity does not impact the environment is like saying what we put in our bodies does not affect our health. Earth is an approximation of a closed system, which means, what is here is all there is. Clean air and water cannot be pumped in from outer space. Nature’s ability to recover from the abuse and damage we inflict is not infinite. The environment is the one thing that cannot be corrected after the next election cycle.
Nature is apolitical. In nature, political affiliation, socioeconomic status, age, race, or religion are irrelevant. The forces of nature are completely and utterly unbiased. The devastating effects of human activity on the environment will continue to occur whether we believe in them or not. The choice of whether or not to do anything about it is ours. But it is our children and grandchildren who will inherit the consequences of our choices. Imagine what might happen if we all chose to leave the Earth a little better than we found it.
