“Oh, don’t you just hate those climate deniers?” The man with no name-tag says with a little jab in his voice. I’m sure he expects me to nod my head in vigorous agreement…”
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.” […]
“I’m the least likely guy you’ll ever see running for US Senate. I’m very shy. Talking to people makes me nervous and talking to groups terrifies me. I’d rather be on an adventure by bike, skiing through fresh powder or hiking one of Utah’s magnificent peaks. But that’s not how it turned out.”
I understood immediately why they wanted to do it. Something happens when give yourself over to unpredictability. Something magical. Your heart opens. There’s this commitment to putting your butt in the saddle day after day after day while you live on an edge with uncertainty as your closest companion.
“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…