Dear Mr. Bezos, bringer of all things possible and impossible, maybe TikTok as well, please do another good thing: Deliver us from the beverage drudgery. Yes, hauling our daily bottled water or soda or juice or beer or Red Bull all by ourselves from the store to the car is hard.
Dear Mr. Bezos, the beverages are heavy! Help us out here, these are modern times. Wouldn’t you want to make a buck or two with ultramodern beverage service vans? Do you remember when milk was delivered in glass bottles all across the US of A? I believe Schwan’s is still carting around frozen foods. And, no lie, in Germany they are doing such a truly beneficial beverage service. They drop your crate of beer or soda right at your doorstep. And they take back and refill the bottles too.
Here Is How to Set Up Your Delivery Service
Dear Mr. Bezos, please realize there is a beverage delivery market gap. You can fix this easily. How?
Step: online ordering like we always do from Amazon. Piece a cake!
Step: fill up your beverage warehouses a little taller than Total Wine and Beer.
Step: I will be the first one to purchase a cooler box with a hinky-dinky digital key and put it by my garage.
Step: just dump my drinks into the box and pick up the empties. Yeah, the bottles have a deposit on them.
Get it? Mr. Bezos, your beverage delivery system will be the best in the world because it creates zero trash. Have you heard that bottles can be washed? Even sometimes the plastic ones. Did you know that aluminum cans are a valuable resource? Aluminum recycles easily.
Spare Us the Garbage
Your beverage delivery system will create a real cycle, not a “recycle”—because why should our municipalities pay for disposing of the trash that vendors make money on in the first place? The garbage mountains are growing, as you know. So, I am hoping that you can fix this situation. I know you can. But I am not sure you are too busy or nice enough.
This is how the rest of it works: you (Amazon) return the empty bottles and containers (perhaps in crates or sixpacks) to the producer (brewery, manufacturer) for refilling. If the bottles are damaged, the producer sends them back to the glass (can) factories. And those either melt the glass/metal or dispose of the materials in a responsible way.
Please give us our daily beverages, Mr. Bezos. I promise, it won’t be much more trouble than your minimalistic cardboard recycling at the moment. You have brought us so much, Papa Amazon. But don’t only bring bring bring! You should also take take take the burden of beverages and trash away.
Oh, Papa Amazon, do a good thing and bless us with a beverage delivery system. And also deliver us from unnecessary garbage. Amen
It’s the best of time in Arizona! Temperatures are languid and mild, bunnies and squirrels frolic on the lush greens of a recent rain, and the colors pop out of the fragrant earth: wildflowers–it’s spring time. I took pictures on my recent hike to Wind Cave. Which of these flowers do you know?
(Ssh! There is a cheat sheet here at Southwest Desert Flora BUT: test your memory before you peek)
We left on election day, having cast our vote by mail, to escape our civic detachment (disillusionment). In Kerala, India, we enjoyed a tour to paradise. We drove from Dharmathupatti to Munnar, from there to Kumily (Periyar National Forest), and on to Mariar Beach, where we stayed in the Abad Turtle Beach resort on the coast.
We didn’t see wild elephants but we took note of this reclaimed plastic artifact in Munnar.
Along the serpentine ways through the Western Ghats we saw lush tea and cardamom plantations; farther down towards the coast, rubber trees, pineapple, mangoes, coconut, and extensive rice fields in the backwater region. We also took one of the famous houseboat trips on the coastal backwater canals.
Kerala is under communist leadership. From driving through the land, catching fleeting impressions with my tourist eyes, I thought that individuals, even the lowliest street hawkers, feel more like a part of society than any of us in the US of A. People in India know their roles, rights, and entitlements. Participation in the community in Kerala appeared to be much stronger than in the US, where half the population doesn’t even vote. We saw a communist rally march, noticed many campaign posters, and spotted numerous calls for recycling and other public service announcements.
A government can certainly make people feel as a part of the whole. Take for example the Periyar National Park and Tiger Reserve. Since its inception in 1982, the Periyar National Park has enrolled its local villagers as guardians of the preserve. That was a smart move, because now the locals have gained not only a source of income as guides and rangers, they have also dropped what one official brochure called “poaching.”
At the Gavi safari headquarters, at least a dozen guides met up with their tourists in small groups; breakfast and lunch provided at the cafeteria. Vijay, our guide who lives in the ecotourism village of Gavi, took us on a small hike from the ranger station to the top of one of the 18 hills in the park. All hikers had to wear gaiters up to the knee to protect us against leeches.
The hike was short but quite scenic. At the peak of the hill, Vijay directed our attention to the Sabarimala temple, nestled in the valley’s jungle. The famous sanctuary can only be reached on foot via a trail and nevertheless the temple attracts 10–15 million pilgrims annually, although it has restrictive opening seasons. A military station has been built next to it to watch over the ever increasing amount of gold in the sanctuary, as well as to monitor the religious fervor. Holy passions have a history of getting out of hand in a land of many faiths. Hinduism, Islam, and Christianity are all running their strong agendas.
At Periyar National Park, you can’t go hiking on your own. First of all, about 800 elephants live in the area. Although we saw plenty manure on the narrow road, we unfortunately didn’t spot an animal as such. Second, the park is home to an estimated 40 tigers and some hundred leopards, who may be looking for an easy meal. Third, there are few trails and, as anywhere in the wild, you could get lost and bitten by one of the 300 species of poisonous snakes. Dead tourists are no good advert. Bottom line: don’t go hiking without a ranger. Last but not least, tribals live in the forest too. And they also want to be left alone.
Vijay rowed us in a boat to the Gavi waterfall, which also provides the water for the ecotourism center. He pointed out various species of birds and spotted an orchid called Dancing Girl. He took us on a walk through the arboretum, where we learned about wild mango, chiku (sapodilla), guava, plantains, and allspice. He lit up the resin from the Boswellia serrata tree (frankincense). He was very knowledgeable and proud to share the natural beauties. His forebears may have been poachers, but Vijay now had become an advocate and protector for his paradise.
And there are lots of animals in it. We saw monkeys of several species, herds of gaur (bison), sambar (deer), mongoose, and birds of all kinds on an afternoon boat trip on Lake Periyar. And Vijay and the other rangers had a proud stake in all of this. They enjoyed protecting and sharing the forest at the same time. Of course, we missed out on the tigers, perhaps good so. And we also didn’t spot an elephant. But their droppings were plenty.
Kerala, like all of India, is densely populated. Nothing goes without collaboration because you depend on it. We eventually arrived at our final destination at Abad resort. Even the beach bum dogs of Marari Beach understand this. The packs of mutts wait patiently every morning for the fisher boats to return. The symbiosis between fishermen, dogs, and restaurant trash has deep roots.
Kerala, a true garden state, seems like an ecological paradise. (Duh, close your eyes when there is dust over the tea plantation. Pesticides are are a common practice.) Yes, there is occasional trash, but less so than in other parts of India. Then there are plastic bottle hunters who pile up sacks mile high on their bicycles. Imagine, the cow poop will be dried and serve as fuel for cooking. There are coconuts of which every part can be put to use, even the coir from the husk to make fibers to stuff mattresses. To find out more, visit the Coconut Museum near Marari Beach. There is no part in a coconut that can’t be used.
In the old days, a whole house could be roofed with palm leaves. There is much reuse and recycle going on based on the scarcity of materials but also new inventions such as paper straws have made their way to market. In our resort, Abad Turtle Beach, three miniature bovines were kept on premises, not for milk but for lawn mowing, their manure serving to fertilize the vegetable garden.
Our Kerala trip gave us one of the best flavors of eco-tourism. When the locals are collaborating to preserve their natural treasures, this kind of business is an enrichment for all involved and does (hopefully) the least harm. Tourism will never take off with “no harm” involved. But in the national parks in Kerala the flow of people is strictly controlled. It has to be. With a population of about 1.5 billion plus some tourists, the pristine lands for wildlife are precious and irreplaceable. We don’t want to trample them down.
That’s why I wrote Random Accident in Sector Noah 135/56 or the story of The Last Book on Earth. I can see it coming. Can’t you?
I have been in publishing since Gutenberg invented the printing press. Or rather, I got my hands dirty with linotype and ink. Remember? That’s when the lines of lead type had to be read in reverse? Yes, you can learn to detect typos reading upside down, from right to left, with letters mirrored. And then came the revolution of the photo paste ups. How easy was that! Boy, and now we have the Adobe full page layout programs. It’s magic!
I started daily reporting with linotype in high school (now you can guess how old I am). After college, while working as an editor at a weekly paper, we waxed up the filmsetting paper strips. And eventually, after another master’s degree, I had all the publishing technology at my fingertips with Office and Adobe programs through the Amazon’s “Every man and woman’s press.” It’s called self-publishing. What a revolution!
Books have always been my passion. Since I was ten years old, I had wanted to write a book. Back then I was dreaming of concocting another volume for an Enid Blyton adventure series about twin girls in boarding school. And now I do write books.
With a deluge of social media and self-publishing platforms, everybody is their own printing press and broadcasting station. One question is, how good is that? Another question is, who needs books? I do. Because I still want to write them.
Sandy’s world is shattering–then what?
Are you still with me? It will get easier from here on out: ChatGPT will hammer out my next prompt into a flawless manuscript. This will be put through the Amazon AI machine to publish it in triplicate as paperback, hard bound, and Kindle with a dashing cover. Then all I have to do is sell it. Right!
Yet no matter how much self-publishing keeps Amazon awash, books seem to be doomed. The ones printed on paper for sure. Such was my assumption for my picture book Random Accident.
Now imagine a world without books.
In this ancient (written 20 years ago), far future, retro-story, where everything is under control—except for earthquakes, the weather, and random accidents—a little girl chances upon an old-fashioned book. Sandy has never seen a book in her world of monitors, projections, and mood balancers. She tries to make sense of the pictures and wishes for what’s in it: a garden. Bob, the all-knowing caretaker of this solar system and Sandy’s planet earth, will only go so far to help her.
Sandy has to help herself. And so, she does.
Random Accident, illustrated by my daughter Priyanka Makin, is a humorous, futuristic picture book for all ages. It is built on the exercise of kindness and discovery.
Random accidents never get old because nature always has the magic of surprise.
Once upon a time . . . or let’s say yesterday, Princess Edda, who lives in a faraway land in the remotest castle’s tallest tower . . . no, sorry, in Bandana Land on Bat Cave Road, took repose in her crystal castle. Maybe it wasn’t a crystal castle, maybe it was rather a tea house. Right, she wanted to test out her itty-bitty barn, or tree house—or did she say tea house?—for a sleepover. She was looking for adventure. It was in the air. Heavy clouds were billowing, the wind howling, heavy drops splashing, thunder rolling, and rain drumming on the metal roof. The storm roared like a lion.
And yet Princess Edda left the safety of her Rainy Castle for the tea house, cozied in her covers, pulled the blanket up to her nose, and admired the strength of the swaying trees outside. This was such a noble fortress, with Saltillo tiles and stained-glass windows and a bed. But it rattled like a mousetrap. The pelting rain noise felt like being inside a drum.
Princess Edda rolled her eyes. Why did this thunderstorm have to happen on her first sleepover in the tea house? She wouldn’t get any shut eye here.
So, she said, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Angels watch me through the night, and wake me with the morning light.”
But the morning was still far away and the wind howling with no mercy. She decided to read herself to sleep. It got later and later. It got so late that it was almost early again. Yet the lightning kept flashing through the glass door, and the wind howled even worse. No use trying. So, Princess Edda decided to admire the power of God’s nature instead. This was better than a movie.
Kaboom, caramba, catastrophe! Something crashed outside. The rain still drumming on the roof. Princess Edda pulled the blanket higher. Was there a creek or river running by her side? The tea house was shaking something awful. Dorothy in Kansas? No, only Little Edda in Texas. She didn’t have visions of sugar plums in her head, but saw witches flying by on a broomstick. She thumbed her nose at them. And finally, the dawn, not the window, broke. Sigh, what a relief! Princess Edda stepped out into the sunrise, inhaling the fresh, cleansed air.
And she was still alive. A tree had crashed only a foot from her tea house. Oh, miracle and wonder! Not quite. Prince Helmut had sent his Bandana Gang to the rescue. Who else could have heaved the tree away from its fateful destiny? And so Princess Edda escaped the storm unscathed. The Bandana Guard kept watch all night.
Princess Edda looked around: Sea Shell Covid, Two-Face Janus, Old Man Woodhead, Spanish Moss Guy, Hippie Girlfriend, Hippie Boyfriend, an eclectic bunch. Princess Edda bowed to her protectors. No knight in shining armor on a noble steed could have accomplished this: distract the lightning. He would have been roast inside his armor. But Prince Helmut’s wooden guard withstood the storm and saved the princess.
Helm_TurbanGuy_small
Helm_SpanishMoss_small
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Helm_girldfirend_small
Helm_boyfriend_small
Helm_Covid_sm
Helm_WorkerDude_small
Helm_JanusOther_small
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Helm_KamaSutra_small
See, I told you so, there is still nobility in sacrifice. The Bandana Gang kept watch for Princess Edda.
Do you know what’s a cycle? Not a bi-cycle. Not an orb. Not the menses. I am talking about another natural cycle. The water cycle. I found one of the best examples, which every fourth grader must know, painted on a trash can during a Scottsdale (AZ) festival season. No natural resource is more important for Arizona (and the world) than the water (and air).
Water cycle painted on trash can in Scottsdale, AZ
Isn’t this a fabulous illustration? And it’s painted on a recycling can. So much more meaningful as an invitation for recycling. These images are fairly old, but I fell in love with the educational art and kept the snapshots for a reason.
The water cycle goes round and round, no saying where the start is: precipitation, collection, evaporation, condensation, precipitation . . . back to the beginning. The water has an infinite loop. Nothing gets lost.
Not so re-cycling (what’s in the blue trash can, not what’s painted on it). As I am spending time in a recycling-bound country, Germany, an idea popped into my head: as hard as we may try, recycling is not a true cycle. At best, it’s a loop. Why?
Take plastic, for example. First we pump mineral oil out of a well from the earth. This goes to a refinery, to a plastic factory, which makes the plastic bottle. From there, the plastic bottle goes to the beverage manufacturer (maybe as throw-away water bottle), to the distributor, to the store, to the consumer (us), to the blue barrel, to the sorting & recycling company, to the shredder, to the melter . . . and then WHAT?
We can’t put that darn plastic back into the ground, not as a liquid anyway, maybe bury it in a dump. We can’t pump the oil back down there. The Jack is out of the box. And, no way, Mike Wisausky, we can’t “put that thing back where it came from.”
Duh. What’s new. We know that already, you may say.
But the plastic has a re-cycle, right? Let’s take a look. Where does the recycled plastic go? Melted into some other containers. Again and again. How long? Hard to say. Until it floats in the ocean as either bottles or micro beads and enters the unavoidable process of the food chain. It’s been said, how sad, we all eat plastic now. Eat your plastic, kid!
Recycling, is not a true cycle, but it is still the best we can do. We humans are ignoring the Sorcerer’s Apprentice problem all too often. We do things just because we can. And for the money. We say, let’s deal with the consequences (of plastic) later, or not at all? Let the kids deal with it?
Avoid the plastic where you can and recycle the rest. America has much room for improvement recycling-wise. In Germany, most beverage bottles (plastic & glass with a deposit) go straight back to the store. Any other glass (wine bottles, jars, etc.) must be dropped at the glass collection station sorted by color. German beverages, in the first place, come in crates (12 or 20 bottles), also with a deposit on them. These bottles are washed and refilled.
How about that, America? Put that thing back where it came from. At least return all your bottles to the store. The merchants have to take them back! They made money off of them. Ditto! The bottles are their responsibility.
War on Crime, War on Drugs, War on Poverty, Star Wars, Price Wars, – Why not have a War on Plastic—NOW? We need one more good war!
We splurge in unnecessary plastic all the time. Where does the waste go?
Refuse, reduce, recycle that plastic!
I confess, I use plastic still too much. Most of it is totally avoidable.
Regardless how judicious you may be, you will have committed one of these 10 Plastic Cardinal Sins. Aren’t we lazy! (Or is it short-term memory loss?). So, let’s restart.
The 10 Cardinal Plastic Sins
Single-use water bottle: It should have been legally restricted or taxed by now. Some schools and organizations have banned them. Bring your own refillable water bottle. Water in tin bottles available now.
Plastic shopping bags: Yeah, what’s your problem? Bring your own bags, or a basket. Ask for paper bags. Don’t trust the “recycling” of plastic bags in the stores. Or hopefully the store makes you pay for a plastic bag.
Take out containers: In the US, it’s still a world of plastic and Styrofoam. Avoid restaurants that serve you tubs of plastic that could be aluminum or paper. Plastic take-out containers were banned in some European countries.
Online purchases: Hell, no! Get your items from the store, because the shipping material refuse is insane. Peanuts and bubble wrap galore. Leave that stuff to Santa!
Beverage bottles: Get your drinks in a can, glass bottle, or from the faucet, notplastic! This would be my NEW LAW: Stores must recycle plastic bottles, return them to the manufacturer. Let the Coca Cola deal with the plastic!
Liquid detergent: The utmost insanity of all! Haven’t we always used washing powder? It gives you the same results. Listen up, Tide & Co.: Take your jugs off the shelves right now! We can shake up our own soapy sauce.
Body wash & hair shampoo: Just use bar soap. Even hair shampoo and conditioner are available as solid bars these days.
Body lotion: Easy fix. Use fragrant, essential, natural oils—in glass bottles. Oils have fewer ingredients than lotions and may be more beneficial than lotions overall.
Juice & milk jugs: Tropicana switched to plastic carafes. Why?? Other juices still come in cartons. Buy those! One gallon milk jugs can still be recycled in our town. But you may just as well get milk in 1/2 gallon packs.
Egg “cartons” ???: Why should plastic egg “cartons” even exist?
Our municipal authority, the City of Mesa, has basically given up on recycling. Only about 5 item categories will be accepted, forget about washing out yogurt cups. Since China does not take our American trash any more, the dumps on the Salt River Reservation and the other one by the Florence prison are growing at horrid rates.
ONE MORE EXAMPLE OF ILL-FATED PLASTIC LOGIC: In my college days I met a lady who had a big heart for animals. She cut up the plastic rings from the soda six-packs. Why? So that no sea-life should be caught in it. WHY would our plastic end up in the ocean in the first place? This was some 30 years ago, and ongoing.
At any rate, plastic should carry a Surgeon General’s warning, just like cigarettes:
SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Plastic Causes Piles of Trash, Harmful Inertia, Intrusion into the Food Cycle, Death of Sea Life, and various types of Cancer. Plastic Overuse by any Human Has Been Shown to Result in Global Pollution, Toxicity in the Food Chain, and the Increase in Morbidity in Humans on All Continents.
FROM NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC:
Environmental change: California’s new plastics law could force the rest of the nation to cut down on its polluting materials. The legislation mandates, among other things, a reduction in the single-use plastics sold in the state. It also requires 65 percent of plastics to be recycled within a decade—an ambitious goal. Plastics makers will have to foot the bill for recycling. The law could have ripple effects across the nation, but not all recycling proponents are pleased, Laura Parker reports.
Read the full story. (Pictured above, one million plastic beverage bottles are purchased every minute worldwide.)
This can’t wait any longer. The Huntington Beach oil spill on October 4th, 2021, reminded me again. 25,000 gallons of crude oil flowed into the ocean. As the beach cleanup goes on, residents can apply for federal disaster loans. But why should the government (we) pay for the corporate oil exploitation sins? Make the oil barons cough up the money. Besides, no money can make the hazards of offshore drilling or pipelines breaks go away.
Look, at the above sculpture “Water Is Life (Remembering Standing Rock)”, a porcelain piece by Cincinnati artist Lisa Hueil Conner. It was featured in an SOS Art Exhibit and Retrospective last year. Isn’t it beautiful? I just had to have it. I look at it every day. It tells an important story. And it’s also a stark warning about oil spills.
There are oil spills all the time. Remember the Amoco Cadiz in 1978? The Exxon Valdez in 1989? The exploded and burning oil platform in the Gulf at BP’s Deep Water Horizon in 2010? This was the largest oil spill in history, which left 11 workers dead.
And the spills continue. There were at least 8 spills at the North Dakota Access Pipeline in 2017 after it was put in operation again. The Native American DAPL protesters (2014 to November 2016), who held watch over their land, were trying to stop the pipeline transgression, but the protectors of the land were forcibly removed.
At the time of the no-DAPL protests in 2016, I marched too, in Arizona. At our Native American program in the high school, we held a presentation on the DAPL issue with Native American speakers, Tim Hunts-in-Winter (Lakota, Standing Rock), Stephanie Big Crow (Oglala Lakota), and a key participant by the name of Rance. (The assistant principal wasn’t too happy about it.)
The Dakota (Sioux) knew they had reason to be afraid: The Black Snake prophesy could bring life to an end. In that prophesy, a black snake would slither across the land, poisoning the water before destroying the Earth—the Dakota Access pipeline. It crosses over the Standing Rock Reservation and under the waters of the Missouri.
“There was a prophecy saying that there is a black snake above ground. And what do we see? We see black highways across the nation,” said Dave Archambault, chairman of the Standing Rock reservation, which straddles North and South Dakota. “There’s also a prophecy that when that black snake goes underground, it’s going to be devastating to the Earth.” (CBC News, December 11, 2016)
That’s why hundreds of people had gathered in 2016 to pray in camps along the Missouri River. The incoming Trump administration put a violent end to the encampments.
DAPL continued. The DAPL pipeline expansion is now vying to cross under the Missouri River without a federal permit. Standing Rock fears that their drinking water supply is threatened. They called on President Biden to shut down the pipeline.
Lisa Hueil Conner speaks my mind:
“We still see the disregard for indigenous people’s humanity in the handling of the Standing Rock Pipeline in North Dakota and its ongoing controversy since 2014. Hiking trips to several national and state parks in the Dakotas inspired my work in porcelain called “Water is Life (Remembering Standing Rock)”. This piece is a visual statement of my outrage over the pipeline that was allowed to be built below Lake Oahe and through sacred native lands in North Dakota. The base of the piece depicts a Lakota family (a father, mother, and child) with representative Lakota icons displayed beside each face. The faces are a composite created after viewing many photographs of members of the Lakota tribe. The rim is the pipeline as it leaks toxins into the ground water of the Lakota peoples. Of course, the pipeline has leaked countless times into the lake water.”
What can I say? Protest, protest, protest! Speak up when things are wrong. Art can give you a voice for that. SOS Art Cincinnati has been going strong for 25 years, giving a diverse voice to many political concerns. There is a lot say about humanitarian outrage—rightfully so.
What can we do? We all use oil. We can car pool and use less of it. We can opt for alternative energies. We need to be willing to pay a higher price for clean products.
But what would we be without water? Lake Mead is at its lowest point in history.
Lake Mead has declined about 140 feet since 2000 and now sits at 37% of full capacity.
Luckily we can always drive up to Horton Springs for some untreated well water right from the earth. Inder scooped it straight from the source; spring in the rocks to his right. (Yeah, yeah, wrong kind of bottle, I know!)
I hope this spring will stay clean forever. You all stay clean!
“Paper or plastic?” When have you heard this question lately? I haven’t. It’s “plastic, you must!” That happens to me each time when I forget my reusable bags.
DETOUR to Germany. I just returned from there. Hey, Nutella comes in a glass jar there, isn’t that great? But vitamins are in messy bubble packs, why? Be it as it may, they are ahead of us with managing the mess. They charge deposits on (plastic) bottles and customers will return them to the store (picture below, the fully automated return).
Leergutannahme–Acceptance of Empties: Nice! Let’s bring all our bottles back to where they came from (Fry’s, Albertsons, Safeway, etc.). They made a buck on them, so they must share the recycling responsibility.
All other, non-deposit, glass (wine etc.) bottles must be brought to recycling dumpsters separated by white, brown, or green colors. Papers and cardboards are collected in a separate bin. Compostables go in a brown bin. Next, the packaging refuse (yogurt cups, food containers, cans etc.) are to be cleaned to be recycled. That leaves the “Restmüll” pile much smaller: diapers, hygiene items, & other messy messes to be incinerated.
On packaging: as the consumption of take out food ramped up in Germany during Covid too, there is a new law that all carry-out containers must be paper/cardboard. My mom has a wood-burning stove and can dispose of these in the hearth. For community festivals, china plates, real silver ware, or edible bowls must be used. I went shopping at the grocery store with a basket. Nonetheless, that dang plastic showed a horrible presence in the Edeka cooler section: sliced meats and cheeses strutting more plastic per weight than food. And lots of extra plastic wrapping on fruits and vegetables too (see Aldi).
In the US: Do what you might, you can’t apparently refuse the plastic. Store clerks look at you with disbelief: What? No bag? One for the apples, one for the meat, one for the shampoo, one for the tortillas, one for the toothpaste, one for the birthday card . . . Come on, what are you doing? Save them! These bags are precious!
I have fought to keep those bags at bay. I confess, sometimes I forget to bring my own reusable shopping bags. Then I tell the clerk, “Just put all that crap from the motor belt back in the cart!” What? The packer won’t believe my callousness against his expert wrapping science. Little does he know that I have a (plastic) basket in the trunk. That’s where I throw all my purchases (without crushing my lettuce like they do).
That fight against the bags never ends. The only place that is perhaps a little different is Boulder, Colorado. There they make you buy a bag. Definitely, bags are precious. So, we should pay for them, reuse them, or refuse them. Let needier people have them.
Fight the plastic bags! If we can’t stop this trash, we will drown in it eventually.
Plastic bags should have become extinct by now. The next things to scratch on this long list are the one-way water bottles. Bring your own bottle to the game or school event, fill it at the faucet. Don’t be lazy. Or buy something in a can or glass bottle. Look, San Francisco Airport banned them already in August of 2019. Schools—oh my God, how much trash piles up there—should do the same! Train them school kids to bring their own bottles!
There are signs of hope against that plastic tsunami we live in. Here in Phoenix, the Phoenix Suns Arena was recently renamed the FOOTPRINT Center Arena for its partnership with a material science company that works hard to replace single-use plastics with biodegradable plant fibers. Imagine, all the hot dog boats and burger boxes will compose in the fill after three months!
Footprint Center
So here are my three points:
Let’s skip the plastic bag,
Bring your own refillable drink bottle, and
Boycott liquid detergent.
Why the detergents? Is there any proof that liquid detergent works better than powder? And if, is the result noticeable? I doubt it. BUT: It creates a lot of plastic trash. And plastic is precious, as we know, as our lives are precious. So save that plastic and spare us from it! Because the plastic comes around in the food chain from the plankton in the ocean and up to us. Therefore, if plastic is “dear” to us, we must use it most sparingly, even that micro-plastic.
If we fail on these easy things, we are failing ourselves on many levels. Let’s muster up some strength. Maybe St. Kateri Tekakwitha (Feast Day: July 14th), Patron Saint of the Environment and Ecology could help.
Oh, Holy Saint Kateri! May you protect us from all superfluous plastic and our own negligent recalcitrance! Or can you clean up Midway Island, please? (Sorry, you are right. We better do it ourselves.)
Someone needs to do something about it! How about YOU?
Makin’ Art, Priyanka’s label, is catching on. My multi-talented daughter has produced artworks since early childhood. She has always had a creative knack and amazing patience for precision. That suited her well for her Computer and Electrical Engineering degree at UC Boulder. Now she tinkers with coding and microcontrollers, making new circuits for Sparkfun, an open source electronic components company, also in Boulder.
Art keeps growing on Priyanka and has taken on a technical form: she designs and builds electronic gadgets for art installations, such as Trey Duvall’s mobile constructs and Jaime Carrejo’s “Waiting” exhibit at the Denver Contemporary Art Museum.
All right, let this proud mom brag for a minute or two. Tenacity is one of my daughter’s trademarks. She does art in spite of a full engineering load and turns out a lot of good stuff. Who would have thought that in the digital age she would learn black and white print processing on her own initiative? (Didn’t ask me. You must know that her mom has a degree in photography.) She also paints beautifully in watercolor. Lately, Priyanka has developed the Shrinky-dinks into whimsical earrings and charms. And since she knows what makes a clock tick, other artist keep calling her about musical cuckoo doors, blinking neurons, or floating plants. That is the technical part of her art. How lucky she is to be an engineer.
Now here comes the joint project: Last Christmas Priyanka surprised me with the illustrations for my Random Accident story. That scenario, about 20 years in the making, is somewhat between Brave New World and Shrek. Her images are right on: a fantastical, hopeful, post-apocalyptical environment, in which salvation is steered by a little girl. Whimsical, humorous, and yet right down to earth in their floral splendor. What a multi-talented daughter!
You can find out more about Priyanka’s activities and projects at www.priyankamakin.com
All grocery stores must recycle their store-brand plastic water bottles.
OR ELSE: We won’t buy them, drink tap water, refill our own.
All grocery stores must collaborate with beverage manufacturers to create a deposit/recycle system for any which plastic bottles.
OR ELSE: We only buy drinks in glass bottles or cans.
All beverage vendors must institute refillable(plastic) bottles/jugs.
OR ELSE: We only buy glass, cans, or cartons, especially milk.
Door Dash Company must establish a beverage delivery service that also returns our empties.
OR ELSE: What else? Duh! It’s a BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY!
All detergent companies must stop liquid detergents, as the plastic canisters generate unnecessary plastic waste.
OR ELSE: BOYCOTT liquid detergents!!!
All soap/shampoo/body wash and other hygiene articles producers must provide “infusion bag” style dispensers with reusable nozzle to reduce plastic waste.
OR ELSE: We only use bar soap and make our own beauty supplies.
All condiments such as mayo, mustard, ketchup, salad dressings, etc. must be available in glass bottles or squeeze tubes or infusion bags.
OR ELSE: We mix those up ourselves.
All plastic container/bag/bottle manufacturers must find next-to-zero waste packaging solutions, materials that can be disposed of with minimum damage to the environment.
OR ELSE: See all the above.
All food/beverage/restaurant franchises must use paper straws, paper cups, paper containers or other biodegradable packaging/serving ware.
OR ELSE: We don’t buy and cook our own dinner for a change.
All organizations/schools/communities putting on events must prohibit plastic bottles, plastic dinnerware, and plastic cups. Use water cooler, paper cups, wood utensils, porcelain, or edible containers.
OR ELSE: Organizer(s) must personally separate out the plastic refuse and either reuse or take the plastic to the recycling station.
All consumers (WE) must responsibly and conscientiously participate in plastic recycling, which means taking OUR empties back to the store or recycling station. (REMEMBER THE ALAMO . . . , I mean, PLASTIC BAGS?)
OR ELSE: We don’t deserve what was in the plastic bottle in the first place.
CONSUME LESS!
The heat is on in Mesa. It’s the new construction fever. Whole subdivisions are sprouting up over night. The most awful, megalomaniac, commercial buildings just shot up two blocks down by Falcon Field. Not that they have been sold yet, it’s just so that the investments may be attracted.
Californians are coming to Arizona in droves. Can’t blame them. Arizona is still a little cheaper and has not totally burnt down yet. Let’s just see how long the water is going to last. The Tempe Town Lake—now with flashy glass-and-steel towers and beehive-like apartment complexes—is not real water, it’s just for show. But since we got more business, we need more roads to support the growth. Thank God, we have a lot of rock in Arizona. We are blessed with it, unless this rock is being mined right next to your house.
Do you get the picture? Unfortunately, the Mesa monster holes, as large as meteorite craters, look a little flat from Google Earth. And you can’t see them when driving by, as they are hugely bermed up. You could bury a whole town in some of them. Here are some of these holes along the 202:
German romanticist writers had grand words when describing the multitude of colors and sentiments during autumn season. They might have gone for a leisure stroll in the forested hills behind their house and discovered “Cathedrals of Light” up in the autumn leaves. Indeed, when you look up from way below, as small as you are, into the multi-colored canopy above, you might think you are glancing into a kaleidoscope of stained glass bits.
Bunt sind schon die Wälder, gelb die Stoppelfelder und der Herbst beginnt. Rote Blätter fallen, graue Nebel wallen, kühler weht der Wind.
Colored are the forests, yellow are the stubble fields, and the fall begins. Red leaves are falling, gray fogs are wafting, cooler blows the wind.
Johann Gaudenz von Salis-Seewis
I picked the right time to experience the painted forest this year. October in Germany was one of the mildest and prettiest ever recorded. Indian summer is called “old wife’s summer” in Germany, and it really stretched far into what could be the muddy-moody that I am so familiar with. The muddy-moody can be alleviated with reading, sipping herb tea and eating the famous Lebkuchen.
Luckily, I had no muddy-moody experience. To the contrary, the skies were brilliant most of the days. I sat in a café in the remote Jachenau mountain village, drinking excellent coffee and enjoying homemade rhubarb cake with streusel. People—quite a few bikers—were basking in the sun around the Walchensee. The warming rays of the sun felt curative.
No matter where I walked, up the back slope of the Blomberg from the Waldherrn Alm, around the rural neighborhood around the Loisach or a brisk round trip through the hills, meadows, and forests of my home village, I saw decorative foliage everywhere. Many times the “Föhn” cleared the air in front of the impressive formation of the Alps so that the Zugspitze seemed to have moved closer to my village. Idyllic. The cows were still out this late in the year, and the grass was greener than ever. The regular clanking from the bells on the grazing animals lent this picture an almost Buddhist serenity. Would I soon encounter prayer flags in the trees at the top?
Of course not. Yet this part of Bavaria is full of roadside shrines or crosses for the victims of the road. Somehow many paths led me to interesting cemeteries. All gravesites were beautifully decorated, like little flower gardens. And some of the resting places had fabulous views of the mountain ranges in the distance. The vistas were nature’s creation for the relatives to enjoy in front of the departed. A comforting concept.
The splendor of colors was remarkable. I had not experienced the fall season in Germany for a long time. Many years of absence had made the leaves appear more colorful, the air more clear and the harvest moon more intense. One night I saw the blood moon, quite orange, dominating the evening sky, reminding me of the painter Caspar David Friedrich. Another night, the Milky Way sparkled as crisp as a polished Mercedes star down on me. What a “Herbst-Traum” this Germany can be.
“Kirta-Rutsche” in Hofberger’s carpentry workshop
A favorite tradition in Bavaria is the “Kirta-Rutsche.” This traditional swing, a suspended heavy board in the barn, is a hoot with the youngsters. For the Kirchweih (Patron’s Day), a special type of fry noodles are baked. During this harvest celebration, the mood is very happy.
On a whole different note, I was surprisingly “arrested” by TV actor policemen from a popular Krimi series, Hubert (Christian Tramitz) und Staller (Helmfried Von Lüttichau). Quite a unique experience.
Lately I have been fascinated with sharks. Who wouldn’t be? I remember recently playing “shark” with a four-year-old boy, clapping my hands flat together as if jaws were gaping widely open to take a huge bite out of each other. I wasn’t very good at the shark game. So Samuel won every time, ate me alive. He had shark books, shark movies, and shark pajamas. How about shark bait and cage? Those were on his list too.
Sharks make our imagination go wild. We attribute them with a devilish insidious intention to shred every catch to pieces. Aren’t sharks bloodthirsty and intriguing, as depicted in the Spielberg movie Jaws? Aren’t they killing machines? How else can it be, since their razor sharp rows of teeth can regrow within 24 hours. Anyhow, that’s what I read. According to a pioneering Austrian ocean explorer, Hans Hass, whose books I devoured in my teenage years, sharks like to follow their acute sense of taste for blood in water and the sonic wrestling of a fish in distress. Often sharks like to hang out around fishing boats, similar to seagulls, in hopes to catch a bite. Or sometimes they may just be curious about what’s floating in their territory.
I read in a book titled In unberührte Tiefen that the diver (Hans Hass) was able to shoo away sharks by screaming under water or gesticulating wildly. However, that trick did not work any more where sharks had become “hard of hearing” because of dynamite fishing practices. Nowadays, shark tourism may be almost as common as swimming with the dolphins. Yeah, better go down in an iron cage, because fifty years later these sharks must be really deaf—and careless of (or annoyed with) gawking tourists.
For movies, sharks are always good. They are strong characters, and we think we have figured them out. Moby Dick wasn’t a shark but at least as sinister and cunning. But I keep thinking, wasn’t it Captain Ahab’s obsession that killed him rather than the whale? Of course Disney’s Nemo also featured sharks, by the names of Bruce, Anchor, and Chum. Now, the interesting part was that these sharks were trying to be good by becoming vegetarians. Yet they still could not resist the flavor of blood. Move on to Dreamwork’s Shark Tale. A little fish is mistakenly celebrated as a shark killer and draws the head honcho shark’s revenge on him. Yet in the course of events, a few sharks get reformed. One wayward shark did not like meat anyway. So, the truth remains, only a dead shark is a good shark?
Sharks were the topic in a recent PBS documentary. More and more sharks show up on the Australian coast and put swimmers at jeopardy. Why? Maybe this shark behavior is due to climate change, maybe the sharks were looking for new hunting grounds because they had run out of food (overfishing) in the deep ocean. The conclusion of the documentary was, sharks may be an endangered species. Those ferocious rulers of the ocean have to fear us humans more than we should fear them.
Why do we fear sharks? It’s basic instinct. Sharks can eat us. So before that happens, we try to eat all of them, just in case, if only for shark fin soup. I don’t know what this soup tastes like, but it seems like such a waste to just use only the fins (and why?), and not put the rest of shark protein at least into dog food or fertilizer. Sharks, the buffaloes of the ocean? The sad truth is: In a year sharks eat about ten humans, BUT we humans destroy some 70 millions (maybe 100 million) of these scavengers of the sea in just 365 days. 10 (ten) versus 70 million. What kind of uneven combat is that?
Still, I don’t want any human to fall prey to a hungry shark. When it comes to being eaten, I would rather choose being gulped up by a tiger, not a muscular projectile from the deep with triple rows of meat grinder teeth. What do you think? Because tigers are more like us. These furry mammals breathe the same air as we do. And aren’t kittens cute? Not so little sharks. Tiger or shark, I don’t want to be eaten by either one. Luckily, my chances for such an encounter are slim, unless I fall into a tiger cage or a really big aquarium. But I don’t go to the zoo so often any more. People who have been injured and mutilated by sharks carry that trauma as nightmares forward for the rest of their lives. Close your eyes, imagine you are swimming in the ocean, a torpedo takes aim at your silhouette from the depths below towards the middle of your gut. Keep on paddling. Easy catch.
Sharks have almost surround vision, a real wide-angle horizon view, especially towards what floats above them. Duh, they are really good swimmers too. Now imagine you are professional surfer Bethany Hamilton. She survived such a shark attack in Hawaii. The shark devoured her arm and half of her surfboard. Miraculously she survived the life-threatening injury and took up surf-boarding again. She wrote a book called Soul Surfer about her experience. Later, a movie was made. I heard it is quite heart and gut wrenching. Good for the girl, she got on the surfboard again. Would she want to see 10 million sharks dead in exchange for her gruesome experience? The “real criminal” man-eater shark that attacked her apparently was caught the next day.
Now back to beginning. Why Sharks Attack was the title of a NOVA PBS documentary I watched in May. Naturally, the NOVA programs are always well done and informative. However, I had two especially defining moments. One was the fact that Peter Benchley’s (the author of Jaws) widow had become a driving activist for shark preservation. She seemed to resent and atone for the vilification of the ocean “tigers” in her husband’s famous thriller. Sharks are important for the natural balance in the oceans. The other moment was the shock of numbers. Somewhere between 70 million and 100 million sharks are killed every year. I can’t even imagine that this many sharks are out there. Despite a lot of shark tourism lately, I heard somewhere that sharks don’t make such good pets. So I would say, we leave most of them where they are and don’t swim too close to them. Or do we want to accomplish another extinction along such greats as the buffalo? Hasta la vista, Baby!
Ich hätte es mir gleich denken können: der Sommer kommt ja wieder. Zu spät für die Flucht nach drüben. Obwohl—bei uns in Arizona geht der Sommer eigentlich nie ganz weg, auch nicht im Winter. Deswegen kommen dann die Snow Birds aus Iowa, Minnesota und Nebraska. Aber leider ist ihr alter Schnee dann unterwegs schon geschmolzen. Von Rodeln keine Spur, denn in Arizona brodelt der Asphalt.
Jetzt im Juli ist es grad so schön warm, dass du dir auf der Kühlerhaube (welch eine Fehlbenennung) ein Spiegelei braten könntest. Hundert Grad (37 C) sind da nichts, das haben wir mehr als fünf Monate lang. „It’s a dry heat“, eine trockene Hitze, scherzen wir Arizonier dann mit unseren Touristen. Obwohl, wenn das Thermometer auf knusprige 115 (46 C) klettert, dann sind wir gespannt, ob es keinen Knacks kriegt.
Mir bleibt die Luft weg, wenn ich aus dem gekühlten Haus in die kochende Garage geh. Die Spucke ist mir schon längst vertrocknet. Wenigstens habe ich Ofenhandschuhe für die Autotürgriffe dabei, weil die auch schon glühen. So, erst lass ich mal 10 Minuten den Motor und die Kühlung laufen, damit ich das Steuer anfassen kann. Es ist kein Scherz, schon viele Babys und Haustiere sind in solchen Folteröfen gestorben. Und nur Vollidioten bestellen sich in Arizona eine schwarze Innenausstattung fürs Auto. So meschugge bin ich noch nicht. Bloß nichts drin liegen lassen, was schmelzen oder explodieren könnte.
Aber was kannst’ machen? Bei so einem Sauwetter jagt man keinen Hund mehr auf die Straße. Hab ich Fieber? Da lebt man wie im Dämmerzustand und Unfähigkeit zu irgendwas so vor sich hin, wie unter eine Glasglocke. Klimakühlung im Haus, im Auto, im Mall, von der Natur keine Spur, lieber nicht, die ist grausam heiß.
Sculpture by Heloise Crista at Taliesin West
Mein Garten ist schon arg vertrocknet trotz Sprinkleranlage. Die Tomaten sind Dörrobst. Sogar den Kakteen wird es zu heiß. Erst als ich die Schattensegel über den Kaktusfeldern im Botanischen Garten wahrnehme, verstehe ich, warum meine Aloepflanze so traurig aussieht. Da brennt es direkt runter auf den Steingarten, gegrillte Aloe also.
Sogar zum Baden ist es zu warm. Im öffentlichen Pool schwimmt man herum wie ein Wienerwürstel in der Erbsensuppe—und das Wasser sieht auch so aus. Nein, danke. Auf dem Salt River kann man sich in einem Autoreifen treiben lassen, nicht schlecht. Aber am besten mit T-Shirt und Trainingshose bedeckt, sonst gibt’s rote Garnelen zum Abendbrot. Solardach haben wir zwar, aber die Zellen kommen mit dem Strom für die Kühlung nicht mehr nach. Kann man nur hoffen, dass das bisschen extra Schatten unter den Platten die Sonne etwas bremst. Auch dem „Sonnendach“ wird die Hitze zu viel.
Barracks at Goldfield Town
Kurz gesagt, Arizona ist ein Winterparadies. Im Sommer gibt es genau drei verschiedene Temperaturen: „hot“, „hotter“, und „bloody hot.“ Arizona ist der einzige Staat, der keine Sommerzeit hat. Wieso? Weil wir ignorieren den Sommer ganz einfach. Deswegen kriegt er auch keine besondere Zeit. Ganz im Gegenteil sind wir froh, wenn die Sonne abends schnellstens wieder abhaut. Wir haben angeblich auch einen „Monsoon“, aber alles was dabei herauskommt sind Blitze und Staubstürme. Trotzdem hat Arizona ganz herrliche Regenbögen—einmalig auf der Welt, weil ganz ohne Regen. Ich glaube wir machen die mit Panavision, oder so ähnlich wie ein Feuerwerk.
Na gut, am Wetter kann ich nichts ändern—aber meine Einstellung schon. Jetzt habe ich folgendes probiert: ich habe mein chinesisches Schneesturmposter anmeditiert und mir vorgestellt, es ist Winter. Und es hat funktioniert. Es war wie Weihnachten. So habe ich nichtsdestotrotz gleich Schmalznudeln und Plätzchen gebacken. Ignorieren ist das Beste, was man tun kann, wenn an der Lage nichts zu ändern ist. Aber manchmal wird’s mir trotzdem ganz “Chihuly.”
I love the rainy days, but I would be singing night and day if I were to eulogize this heavenly moisture in Germany. Rain had come down too much on the land of BMW and Nivea cream.
Perhaps Germany’s May and June 2013 had altogether five clearly sunny days. And some of these presented a tropical steam kitchen with 35 degrees Celsius (100 F) and almost 100 percent humidity.
Beach baskets at Travemünde
On one of those rare brilliant days, we sat dazed and mesmerized at a Travemünde beach café. It was too hot to move about. Even the famous beach baskets hunkered down, mouth wide open, gasping for air.
Ya-ha, that was a pretty exceptional day. Otherwise, the heavens poured down water as if pushing us to rebuild Noah’s Arc. On TV, we watched people being washed out of their homes along the Danube River. Many residents tried to sandbag their storefronts in Passau, but to no avail. Scores of farm animals drowned. More dikes could have broken, but people labored ceaselessly to contain the damage.
Rickmers historic ship
Damage it was, however. Gasoline tanks broke, stank up the properties; furniture and merchandise spoiled; water poured from electric outlets. Everything needed to be fixed real bad or be torn down. Ms. Merkel promised emergency help, about $2000 per victim immediately. That aid was for people with nothing else but their clothes on their backs. Damages amounted to hundreds of millions Euros. Diehards along these smitten areas declared they would not only survive the flooding but also recover.
Such courage was admirable. To me, this exceptional flood seemed like New Orleans all over again. However, the Germans were better organized and much less destitute. It might seem, at times, that the clean sweep of New Orleans was intentional.
Really funny, right? The New Orleans disaster “Katrina” was talked about, predicted, so to say, but still nobody was prepared for it. Why is that? Skip, skip, skip across the pond to the rest of the story . . .
Natural reflections
If we can think it, if we can say it, these things will happen. So we must do something about it, right? We know that earthquakes will come in California. But not in our time, we hope. We know that glacial surfaces are melting. But they are so far away. We know that we will run out of mineral oils. But gasoline is still affordable. And on it goes. We like to take a “calculated” risk. Calculate all you will. Some people thought they were smart enough to follow the receding waters into the ocean before the tsunami. Imagine the rest. Let’s not be a doomsday prophet or a conspiracy theorist. In my own lifetime, I have observed Germany’s climate change, especially because I live so far away from it. In the last 20 years, I have hardly experienced one of those warm-crisp “Russian summer” days I used to know in my childhood.
Compared to that, everything seems moist and clammy to me, even the laundry never dries up completely. I see a lot of moss growing. And sometimes the exertion from mountain hiking feels like being “water-boarded” by the secret service. The air is heavy with water, so it’s hard for the lungs to separate the oxygen out of it.
I still love the greenery and rainy landscape. But increasingly I am experiencing more aquarium-like days than I am able to remember. So the climate might have changed already. What now? Look at the pictures from the Tegernsee Mountains. Some impressions reminded me of the rainforest in Ecuador. Naturally, in northern Germany because of the Elbe, Alster and Baltic Sea, there was a lot of water anyway. And another load fell from the sky.
Kerala is under communist leadership. From driving through the land, catching fleeting impressions with my tourist eyes, I thought that individuals, even the lowliest street hawkers, feel more like a part of society than any of us in the US of A. People in India know their roles, rights, and entitlements. Participation in the community in Kerala appeared to be much stronger than in the US, where half the population doesn’t even vote. We saw a communist rally march, noticed many campaign posters, and spotted numerous calls for recycling and other public service announcements.
A government can certainly make people feel as a part of the whole. Take for example the Periyar National Park and Tiger Reserve. Since its inception in 1982, the Periyar National Park has enrolled its local villagers as guardians of the preserve. That was a smart move, because now the locals have gained not only a source of income as guides and rangers, they have also dropped what one official brochure called “poaching.”
At the Gavi safari headquarters, at least a dozen guides met up with their tourists in small groups; breakfast and lunch provided at the cafeteria. Vijay, our guide who lives in the ecotourism village of Gavi, took us on a small hike from the ranger station to the top of one of the 18 hills in the park. All hikers had to wear gaiters up to the knee to protect us against leeches.
The hike was short but quite scenic. At the peak of the hill, Vijay directed our attention to the Sabarimala temple, nestled in the valley’s jungle. The famous sanctuary can only be reached on foot via a trail and nevertheless the temple attracts 10–15 million pilgrims annually, although it has restrictive opening seasons. A military station has been built next to it to watch over the ever increasing amount of gold in the sanctuary, as well as to monitor the religious fervor. Holy passions have a history of getting out of hand in a land of many faiths. Hinduism, Islam, and Christianity are all running their strong agendas.
At Periyar National Park, you can’t go hiking on your own. First of all, about 800 elephants live in the area. Although we saw plenty manure on the narrow road, we unfortunately didn’t spot an animal as such. Second, the park is home to an estimated 40 tigers and some hundred leopards, who may be looking for an easy meal. Third, there are few trails and, as anywhere in the wild, you could get lost and bitten by one of the 300 species of poisonous snakes. Dead tourists are no good advert. Bottom line: don’t go hiking without a ranger. Last but not least, tribals live in the forest too. And they also want to be left alone.
Vijay rowed us in a boat to the Gavi waterfall, which also provides the water for the ecotourism center. He pointed out various species of birds and spotted an orchid called Dancing Girl. 
He took us on a walk through the arboretum, where we learned about wild mango, chiku (sapodilla), guava, plantains, and allspice. He lit up 
the resin from the Boswellia serrata tree (frankincense). He was very knowledgeable and proud to share the natural beauties. His forebears may have been poachers, but Vijay now had become an advocate and protector for his paradise.
And there are lots of animals in it. We saw monkeys of several species, herds of gaur (bison), sambar (deer), mongoose, and birds of all kinds on an afternoon boat trip on Lake Periyar. And Vijay and the other rangers had a proud stake in all of this. They enjoyed protecting and sharing the forest at the same time. Of course, we missed out on the tigers, perhaps good so. And we also didn’t spot an elephant. But their droppings were plenty.
Kerala, like all of India, is densely populated. Nothing goes without collaboration because you depend on it. We eventually arrived at our final destination at Abad resort. Even the beach bum dogs of Marari Beach understand this. The packs of mutts wait patiently every morning for the fisher boats to return. The symbiosis between fishermen, dogs, and restaurant trash has deep roots.
In the old days, a whole house could be roofed with palm leaves. There is much reuse and recycle going on based on the scarcity of materials but also new inventions such as paper straws have made their way to market. In our resort, Abad Turtle Beach, three miniature bovines were kept on premises, not for milk but for lawn mowing, their manure serving to fertilize the vegetable garden.
That’s why I wrote Random Accident in Sector Noah 135/56 or the story of The Last Book on Earth. I can see it coming. Can’t you?
I have been in publishing since Gutenberg invented the printing press. Or rather, I got my hands dirty with linotype and ink. Remember? That’s when the lines of lead type had to be read in reverse? Yes, you can learn to detect typos reading upside down, from right to left, with letters mirrored. And then came the revolution of the photo paste ups. How easy was that! Boy, and now we have the Adobe full page layout programs. It’s magic!
Books have always been my passion. Since I was ten years old, I had wanted to write a book. Back then I was dreaming of concocting another volume for an Enid Blyton adventure series about twin girls in boarding school. And now I do write books.
Random Accident, illustrated by my daughter Priyanka Makin, is a humorous, futuristic picture book for all ages. It is built on the exercise of kindness and discovery.
Now available on 
And yet Princess Edda left the safety of her Rainy Castle for the tea house, cozied in her covers, pulled the blanket up to her nose, and admired the strength of the swaying trees outside. This was such a noble fortress, with Saltillo tiles and stained-glass windows and a bed. But it rattled like a mousetrap. The pelting rain noise felt like being inside a drum.
But the morning was still far away and the wind howling with no mercy. She decided to read herself to sleep. It got later and later. It got so late that it was almost early again. Yet the lightning kept flashing through the glass door, and the wind howled even worse. No use trying. So, Princess Edda decided to admire the power of God’s nature instead. This was better than a movie.
And she was still alive. A tree had crashed only a foot from her tea house. Oh, miracle and wonder! Not quite. Prince Helmut had sent his Bandana Gang to the rescue. Who else could have heaved the tree away from its fateful destiny? And so Princess Edda escaped the storm unscathed. The Bandana Guard kept watch all night.
Take plastic, for example. First we pump mineral oil out of a well from the earth. This goes to a refinery, to a plastic factory, which makes the plastic bottle. From there, the plastic bottle goes to the beverage manufacturer (maybe as throw-away water bottle), to the distributor, to the store, to the consumer (us), to the blue barrel, to the sorting & recycling company, to the shredder, to the melter . . . and then WHAT?
Recycling, is not a true cycle, but it is still the best we can do. We humans are ignoring the Sorcerer’s Apprentice problem all too often. We do things just because we can. And for the money. We say, let’s deal with the consequences (of plastic) later, or not at all? Let the kids deal with it?
Liquid detergent: The utmost insanity of all! Haven’t we always used washing powder? It gives you the same results. Listen up, Tide & Co.: Take your jugs off the shelves right now! We can shake up our own soapy sauce.
Environmental change: California’s new plastics law could force the rest of the nation to cut down on its polluting materials. The legislation mandates, among other things, a reduction in the single-use plastics sold in the state. It also requires 65 percent of plastics to be recycled within a decade—an ambitious goal. Plastics makers will have to foot the bill for recycling. The law could have ripple effects across the nation, but not all recycling proponents are pleased, Laura Parker reports.
Let’s not be a doomsday prophet or a conspiracy theorist. In my own lifetime, I have observed Germany’s climate change, especially because I live so far away from it. In the last 20 years, I have hardly experienced one of those warm-crisp “Russian summer” days I used to know in my childhood.
