Reflections on the Fifth Week of Spring – Celebrating Earth Day
Thursday,
I settled in my Adirondack chair, watched the breeze toss new leaves
on the River
Willows
below
the blueberry patch,
then googled
“March for Science Pennsylvania
locations.”
One
of the fourteen listed was
Diamond Park
in
Meadville.
I whooped. Perhaps
the idea that had been incubating in the back of my mind since I’d
listened to a Science
Friday podcast last February, would be a new way of celebrating Earth Day.
I
started an email chain
with Spence
and Ellen,
our
daughter, world traveler, and epidemiologist.
JW:
I
found a March for Science in Meadville. The website says 30 are going
and 55 are interested but they don't have a permit yet. I'm
contemplating celebrating Earth Day at the march. Are you going to a
March for Science, Ellen?
Ellen:
You know the march is tomorrow. They have one locally;
I am thinking about going.
Spence:
My
sign will read "Our
daughter is a scientist, but we like her anyway."
JW:
Nope. "My daughter is a scientist. She rocks!"
Ellen:
Not the most effective campaign slogan.
Earth
Day morning dawned cloudy and cold. On
the way to the park, we passed
volunteers planting shade trees on South
Main
Street. A
lone
woman,
holding
a sign with a picture
of Rachel Carson, stood at
the southeast corner of the park.
“Not much of a turn out,”
I murmured.
“We’ll
drive around and see,” Spence said. He cruised toward the court
house, and a line of about
thirty marchers
appeared–Allegheny
college students, families with elementary school aged
children, an infant in a baby carrier, old people like us, and two
dogs. My size crowd.
Spence
parked. Without
homemade signs,
we joined the end of the line.
An
older man and women stooped to pick up litter while
the group
wound around the three
block long and half a block wide
perimeter. A woman in
a red windbreaker and
sunglasses said,
“What will they say with Earth Day people tramping on the grass
instead of the sidewalks?” She
and her friends left the line and took the sidewalk leading to the
gazebo
in the middle
of the park.
Since
we’d joined the demonstration forty-five minutes into the three
hour event, we only circled the park
twice before people
broke
into clusters for conversation among
the leafing out trees.
A
cute kindergärtner
with his hands in his gray hoodie pockets stood idly by his mom and
older
sister.
Recognizing the children from the Learning Center where I volunteer
on Thursday mornings, I approached them.
“Are
you Marching for Science?”
The
boy
frowned. “Not
any more. I’m ready to play.” He dashed across the grass and
climbed a boulder two-thirds his height.
A
young woman wearing a bright pink T-shirt sporting a feminist fist
held the leash of a
brown and black dog she
called her unruly toddler.
While the dog tugged her arm, she talked to an aging hippie with a
boom box before selecting a donut from the organizer’s table. The
dog jumped
up
on her
in
an attempt
to grab the donut.
The
other dog, a seeing-eye dog on duty, ignored the donuts and sat
quietly
by his master.
I
bought
a March
for Science Meadville, PA button
then
walked about taking photos of signs.
I’m
a Voting Citizen 4 Science
Science Rocks
I’m Marching for Her (with
an arrow pointing from “Her” to a picture of the Earth)
Science is Knowledge is Power
Meadville Stands with Science
and Scientists
March for Science
The kindergärtner's sister
held a cardboard sign against her leg and flipped her long, thick
braid over her shoulder. The braid flipping was familiar to me after
many sessions of reading together at the Learning Center. I asked if
she’d let me take a picture of her with the sign.
She put her finger to her
chin, shook her head, and ran to join her brother on the rock he’d
climbed.
Then a tall young man with a
goatee walked up to Spence and me and began talking about his C-corp
endeavors to provide solar cells for people who couldn’t afford the
systems.
Spence nudged my elbow. “Are
you going to tell him?”
The man looked back and forth
between Spence to me.
I said, “We’re in the
midst of negotiating with a company to install solar cells on our
house.”
“That’s great. We
encourage people to install their own cells if they can.” He handed
me a business card. “Pass this along to friends who can donate to
the cause or who need our help.”
His partner, barefoot despite
the forty degree temperatures, jiggled the baby in the carrier
strapped to her front and said, “It’s for his future.”
After
forty-five minutes chilling
and milling,
I turned to Spence. “We can go home now.”
Later,
with
hands
in hot, soapy dish water after dinner, I looked
out
the window at Spence driving
his
red tractor. He
scooped
a bucketful of compost
from
one pile, dumped
it
on
another,
and
exposed rich black earth that
had formed inside.
Though
he wouldn’t consider it a celebration, just another Wells Wood
task, he’d
created fresh earth for
Earth Day.
The
tractor engine
rumbled,
and I ruminated on the discussion from the
afternoon
All Things Considered broadcast
about
the significance of the March
for
Science.
A
nine
year old participant
in
DC sounded
hopeful. “.
. . some people who do not believe in it [science]
.
. . will . . .see how important it really is.”
But
commentators
questioned the
efficacy of the march because, despite organizers’
intentions
for a
nonpartisan event,
signs such
as
the
“I’m
Marching for Her,” a
variation of
Hillary Clinton campaign slogan,
“winked”
at politics.
I
chose to ignore
the politics
and
concentrate on
my
success.
After years of planting trees, picking up litter, and teaching
elementary students the three Rs, reduce, reuse, recycle, I’d found
a different way to celebrate Earth Day. I
also
supported
Ellen, whose research focuses on keeping people safe from heavy
metals in the environment.
This
morning I sent her a text.
JW: Did you go to a March for Science?
JW: Did you go to a March for Science?
Ellen:
No
. . . But I support it! I am not a big fan of crowds.
She wouldn’t have had to
contend with a crowd if she’d lived closer to us.
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