March arrived with sunshine and warm southerly breezes but then had second thoughts. Within a week the peepers and turtles crawled back in the mud and the daffodil buds were white with frost. We were dealt a string of days with drizzling rain and snow squalls as the sun stayed buried in clouds and temperatures hovered near freezing. They were days not conducive to tending the flower garden or washing the car or getting enthused about much of anything.
Lee and I were knocked down by Covid a month ago. The coughing, congestion, and lack of energy are hanging on, and we’re shivering in a seventy degree house trying to satisfy appetites that have suddenly grown ravenous. Cushy chairs, bowls of munchies, stocking caps and blankets, aren the main attraction. It’s a challenge to get ourselves out the door for a walk along the river.
I read a piece in The Guardian how Patagonia, the outdoor clothing company, is forging ahead with its commitment to be an earth friendly and sustainable company. It is now making grants available to support activist organizations that work on the root causes of environmental problems. Founder Yvon Chouinard is a visionary, and leads Patagonia with the mantra: Profits Can’t Be Made on a Dead Plant. Imagine the likes of ExxonMobil, Monsanto, or JPMorgan Chase adopting such a creed. Imagine consumers and investors demanding nothing less.
My friend Jack retired to Sanibel Florida a few years ago. He and his wife had been vacationing on the barrier island and were smitten by its shell-littered beaches, its warm gulf waters, its lush vegetation. Almost seventy percent of the island is permanently protected against development, set aside as a National Wildlife Refuge or private conservation foundation. Building regulations limit height to two stories, landscaping favors native plants, billboards and gaudy, flashing lights are prohibited. The result is a carefully developed island paradise that has not lost its essence, a subtropical destination with an abundance of undisturbed land and more than enough natural beauty.
Hurricane Ian ravaged the island last September. The average elevation of Sanibel is three feet above sea level. Ian’s surge was ten feet. The causeway connecting the island to the mainland was breached and sections of the road washed away.
Water swept through Jack’s kitchen, living room, and lower level bedrooms. I spoke with him after the event and he made it clear they would rebuild. “It’s too perfect here,” he said. “We were due for a hurricane. This is Florida. It happens.”
A growing number of forward thinkers believe Sanibel is prime for a “managed retreat”, a planned community relocation that comes with government support. It’s a challenging and time consuming process that’s not popular with the folks of Sanibel, most of whom, like Jack, plan to stay. The reality of sea level rise and the threat of more intense and frequent hurricanes do not compete with the appeal of living on a lush subtropical island.
I’m reminded of a novel, The Light Pirate, where a coastal Florida town is hit hard by a hurricane, and before the town is rebuilt, it gets hit again. In the years that follow, storms and rising seas become the norm. The local government goes bankrupt. Services and jobs disappear, businesses close, residents flee. Only those that planned for this inevitability stay, and they watch their beloved community grow unrecognizable with collapsed buildings, flooded roadways, and windrows of trash and debris. The grid is down permanently. Cell phone and internet towers are nothing more than surveillance perches for raptors. Midday temperatures exceed human tolerance. Excursions to gather food, collect fresh water, glean soap and matches and anything of value from the moldy shelves of flooded big box stores are carried out at dusk or during total darkness to avoid the intense heat.
It’s a novel that describes in tangible detail a Florida that scientists predict if climate change is not abruptly addressed. Already, in a growing number of coastal neighborhoods, flooding has become routine. Raising roadways and adding lift stations to failed stormwater sewers are underway. Some city councils are considering moratoriums on new building construction.
This morning we pushed ourselves out the door into a moderate snow driven by a steady west wind. The first mile required determination, then the sky partially cleared, our cores warmed, our strides lengthened, and we felt more alive than we had in weeks.
Our family physician tells us everyone will eventually get Covid. Just as surely, everyone is experiencing a world being changed by rising global temperatures and failing ecological systems. The virus caused world wide disruptions in employment, supply chains, and economies. A planet that’s losing the ability to sustain human life will experience havoc of far greater magnitude. Remedies will likely take generations, not just because the challenges are extremely difficult, but because they lack political will and broad corporate and public support. A new UN report says there are many feasible and effective options to avoid worst case scenarios and they are available now, but urgent action is needed.
ExxonMobil is showing record profits while being fattened with subsidies from taxpayers and bankrolled by JPMorgan Chase et al.. Monsanto, with its endless stream of herbicides, fungicides, and insecticides, is contributing mightily to a long list of environmental woes while convincing its customers that poisons are in their best interest. Patagonia is producing high quality clothing while becoming ever more sustainable and using its success to keep our planet from dying.
Not often does a corporation continue to build value not just from quality products and service but from the thoughtful and purposeful way it shares profits. Patagonia is getting it done.
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