Cry Me a River

Sarah is my thirty-five-year-old daughter. A borderline millennial. I make her listen to all of my climate change stories before I share them with the rest of the world. She is my perfect audience. Climate change just isn’t that interesting to her. She tolerates my obsession but I can almost hear her thinking, “whatever, mom.” […]

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“But I Don’t Know Any Republicans”

“Just curious,” I said to the group of folks gathered to talk about climate change. “How many of you are Democrats?”

A few people clucked their tongues. Others made snide remarks under their breath.

There were no Republicans.

I don’t know why, but suddenly I got really sad. Something cracked. I saw myself from a distance, a person living inside a bubble, surrounded by…

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