Iggy,
It’s been quite a few months since I’ve seen or spoken to you. I hope you haven’t taken it personally. We needed a little time apart, I think. Thanks again for going across the country with me. I won’t admit this to anyone else, but the trip would have been impossible without you.
By the way, I found out where H. Nelson Jackson lived. In that Victorian on the corner of Main and Willard streets downtown in Burlington. I’d been driving by it almost every day for the past seven years and didn’t even realize it. I bet when the wind is blowing off the lake just right, the people inside get a nice whiff of my deep-fried exhaust through their windows. There’s something ironic about that. Jackson’s drive east led our country into the automobile age, while our recent ride west was a tiny attempt to alter that course.
So what did I learn, besides too much about your personal habits and music tastes? Well, for starters, I know I can drive across the country in a car without needing fossil fuels. From coast to coast (though, if you and I ever do it again—which is highly doubtful—I’ll make sure the BioFuel Oasis is open when we get there). If I want to push the sustainability envelope further, I know we can build a completely green house. I can do both of these things today, if I really want.
The errands also taught me a couple of lessons that stretch beyond my everyday life. The first is that when the government musters the rare courage to act decisively on sustainability, the economy benefits as much as the environment does. Take Fort Knox, where the mandate to reduce energy consumption saved the taxpayers millions of dollars, created jobs in Kentucky, and slashed the army’s carbon footprint. Why aren’t corporations also ordered by law to do the same? In essence, we’d be forcing them to become more profitable. Look at the benefits Google and Wal-Mart are discovering from following a sustainable approach. In Minnesota the renewable-energy standard set by the legislature is a financial boon for farmers and has created a whole new wind-powered industry. Why aren’t all states requiring a similar standard for utilities? And speaking of renewable energy, why doesn’t Congress allocate more to research on solar, geothermal, and wind power than the price tag for a single missile? The sad answer to all of these questions is that for too long, our country has tried to stop government interference in big business but ignored big business’s interference in government. By nature, corporations don’t care about the public interest—and this lack of regard is too easily being transferred to our leaders.
The second lesson I’ve learned is that to succeed in fighting the looming environmental crisis, we’ll need to make some small sacrifices. Researching Al Gore’s mansion taught me this, and the professor at Dartmouth spoke about it, as did others along the way. You and I have driven our wagon in the tracks of the pioneers who risked everything to create a better future for their kids; we’ve stood in the footprint of the North Platte Canteen, an example of an entire community, mobilizing for the greater American good; we’ve stumbled into places like Waterloo, New York, where the townsfolk immortalize the selfless local heroes who played some small role in making our country great. Self-sacrifice was once a hallmark American virtue. Now those who practice it are ridiculed or even scorned. Somehow we’ve become a people who expect solutions to be handed us without any effort in return. We think now in terms of incremental change and limited possibilities.
So what can we do? More important than driving a veggie car or screwing in a few compact fluorescent bulbs is to kick the country’s collective butt in the right direction, much in the way Ann Marie kicked mine. Change toward a sustainable, secure future will only come through a nationwide effort — and the resources are already at our disposal, through wind, solar, geothermal, and biofuel and through our own ingenuity. We need to inspire, educate, proselytize, and most important, mobilize so the country is equipped to face the inevitable challenges ahead. I hope I’m up to the task—and that you are, too.
Now, to more pressing matters: I’d like my fifty dollars paid in cash.