Monthly Archives: March 2015

Earth Hour? What difference can I make?

Who’s heard of something called Earth Hour? Oh yeah, it’s one of those treehugger events that’s in the news once a year, and then everybody goes back to their old habits and forgets about it.

Right?

Well… no. Like this moron person in New Zealand, you completely missed the point. Ever heard of symbolism? (Sorry, I don’t usually disparage people. Officially. But those who put down and rant against a global event due to willful ignorance, and because they think they’re already doing the right thing, well, they kinda deserve it. They deserve a counter-rant.)

Earth Hour

Earth Hour. More than a once-a-year-fad.

It started as an event in Sydney in 2007, where they turned the lights off for an hour, including on the iconic Sydney Harbour Bridge, to raise awareness about climate change and that individual people can do their bit to help save slow down the destruction of our planet. Since then, it has spread and become a global phenomenon.

Will it make any difference in terms of the globe’s energy use, or its climate, if you turn off your lights for 60 minutes (out of over half a million minutes in a year)?

No. Pretty close to zip, zilch, zero, nada, nuffin’.

So what’s the point in joining?

Well, what if just one kid, because of you having your lights out, asks just one question: “Why are we doing this?”

What if, years later, that one kid remembers Earth Hour as a yearly thing, and it doesn’t fade from her memory every year after the event is over?

And that’s really what it’s about. Raising awareness. Getting people to quit yapping for just one hour about all their oh-so-bothersome first-world problems. Get them to remember that, the way we’re going, our planet’s use-by date is fast approaching. Change the world, so that one day, instead of people rolling their eyes at those who speak up and suggest we all do something, the kids of today who’ll be making the decisions by then will roll their eyes at those few (hopefully very few) who are still too lazy to get off their butts to do something about the world we live in and think it’s Someone Else’s Problem.

And if, after this hour, you should end up making no difference to yourself, the earth’s energy problems, the climate, and end up affecting not a single child in any way… how exactly can one hour with some lights off hurt you?

(Yes, you may still watch TV if you want. No, don’t bother switching off your fridge. Pay attention, dammit!)

Read what it’s all about, and what an amazing difference the WWF-sponsored event has made last year, at http://earthhour.org. Donate, if you want, and if you can afford to. Just don’t bury your head in the sand. If you really don’t believe any of this can make any difference (have you watched the video?!?), at least don’t rain on everyone else’s parade.

Okay, okay, I’m getting off my little soapbox now.

Earth Hour Poster

Change Climage Change.

My Earth Hour in Perth, Western Australia, starts in an hour and a half, at 8:30 pm local time. I’ll be turning my lights off. How about you?

Letter to my awesome daughter

My wonderful daughter is now 17 (man, that makes me feel old!) and in her final year of high school. She recently went on her Year 12 retreat, and the school asked every student’s parents to secretly write them a letter, which they would all receive one evening while they were away. They’d be given time to read it in private and to respond with a letter of their own. I cherish every word of what she wrote back to me, but while I wouldn’t dream of publishing her words, I’d like to share what I wrote to her.


My Darling Baby Girl,

If I said that I’ve loved and adored you ever since the moment I helped deliver you out of the safety and warmth of your mother’s womb, and caught you, and placed you in Mum’s arms, and cut the cord, and welcomed you into this world… then that wouldn’t be true. Because, well, I already loved everything I knew about you even before you were born. We had some great conversations while Mum was still pregnant with you (even though I did most of the talking and your contributions consisted mostly of kicking and punching and doing somersaults). I played you my favourite music by holding headphones against Mum’s belly, which of course is the sole reason you have such excellent taste in music even today.

Then, you were finally born, and so… perfect. You were there to comfort me with your bright, curious gaze – never once crying, just studying the strange being whose voice you already knew – when Mum needed an operation right after you were delivered and I was so worried that you might be an only child. It all turned out well, but I was so thankful you were there with me.

You had me wrapped around your tiny finger from the very start.

Every step you made, every breath you tade… er, took, I loved every moment of watching you grow up. You see, it wasn’t just that you were so cute (and, oh my goodness, were you ever cute!), but also that you allowed me to experience the entire world through the eyes of a young child again. All the glorious beauty of God’s creation, and I’d become so accustomed to everything that I didn’t really appreciate it anymore… until you showed it to me again. What a gift! In return, I wanted to share everything that I liked with you. If I saw a movie that was really moving, or funny, or exciting, I thought, “Ooh, I’m going to watch this one with Debbie when she’s <X> years old!” If I read a book that was really good, I thought, “Oh boy, I hope she’ll become an avid reader and devour books by the truckload.” (And lo and behold, it came to be thus.)

Well, all right – I can’t take all the credit for everything. Nearly everything, though. Yeah, of course Mum was always there to spoil you as well, so… almost nearly everything, then. (Now stop being so nitpicky and let me enjoy this!) And spoil you we did, but, right from the start, one of my goals was to help you be the best you you could possibly be. One of the most important traits I taught you was to be critical. I’d tell you things, even before you could properly reply more than yes or no (but, wow, you understood so much already!), and then ask a question that challenged what I’d just told you. Somehow, you just didn’t let me fool you.

So many milestones* along the way. Having a little brother, then another. Experiencing the wonders of having pets, and of having them pass away. Kindy, pre-school, primary school, secondary school, changing school, making new friends. Becoming a teenager, lying to your parents, reconciling. The first boyfriend (whom I somehow didn’t even kill… no guarantees about the next one, though), your first break-up. Braces. Your first job. Becoming a mature young woman (you were always way more mature than most others your age).

(*Disclaimer: Events may not necessarily be in chronological order. Events in rear-view mirror may seem more or less significant than they really were, depending. On stuff.)

And now, and now… you’re still and will always be Daddy’s little girl, but you’re also a wonderful young woman, so full of confidence – and rightly so – in her ability to handle whatever the world throws at her. Seventeen now, #ohmigoshohmigosh #howdidtimeflysofast?!? You’re old enough to watch horror movies with us, old enough to laugh at all my dirty jokes that I had to bottle up for years before you would’ve understood them (even if you cringe at some of them, you love it!), old enough to write your own stories (which are getting better so fast it’s scary), old enough to have your L-plates and later this year your P-plates. Soon you’ll be old enough to vote!

Your journey in your final year in secondary school will end a chapter in your life that will seem smaller and smaller as you move on and open new chapters over time, but you should always be proud of all that you’ve achieved and accomplished and become during this impressionable time. I know I am and will always be proud of you. Your sharp mind is a weapon, use it to beat life into submission. You can be anything you want to be, because you’ve been handed these most important attributes by Mum and me: awesome brains, the heart of an artist and a poet, a killer sense of humour, and a smile that can melt any heart. There shouldn’t be any situation where the things we’ve handed down are not enough, but if there ever is… I’ll be there for you.

Love always and forever,

– Daddy

 

Are you a poet or a dancer
A devil or a clown
Or a strange new combination of
The things we’ve handed down

And these things that we have given you
They are not so easily found
But you can thank us later
For the things we’ve handed down

You may not always be so grateful
For the way that you were made
Some feature of your father’s
That you’d gladly sell or trade

And one day you may look at us
And say that you were cursed
But over time that line has been
Extremely well rehearsed

By our fathers, and their fathers
In some old and distant town
From places no one here remembers
Come the things we’ve handed down

– Mark Cohn, “The Things We’ve Handed Down”