During my 3rd and 4th grade years, I was living in southern New Jersey and a distinct memory I have during that time period is quite poignant for today. Driving around, I would look out the window from my usual seat in the back and stare at huge smoke stacks with endless columns of smoke pouring into the air I was breathing. I couldn't help but notice thick black clouds of exhaust coming out of buses and trucks. As a 9 year old I thought: this can't be right, how can adults let this happen and be OK with destroying the air I'm breathing?
The only answers I can come up with are ignorance and greed.
A great and wise man once said:
The Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. Yet we do not own the freshness of the air or the sparkle of the water; how can you buy them from us? Every part of this earth is sacred to my people....
There is no quiet place in the white man's cities; no place to hear the leaves of spring or the rustle of insect wings. But perhaps because I am a savage and do not understand. The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lovely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frog around the pond at night?
The Whites too shall pass - perhaps sooner than other tribes. Continue to contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste. When the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses all tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with the scent of many men, and the view to the ripe hills blotted by talking wires. Where is the eagle? Gone. Where is the buffalo? Gone. And what is it to say goodbye to the swift and the hunt, the end of living and the beginning of survival?
Chief Seattle to President Franklin Pierce, 1855
Thursday, September 13, 2007
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