{"id":504,"date":"2022-09-21T15:41:48","date_gmt":"2022-09-21T19:41:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pensivejournal.com\/?p=504"},"modified":"2022-09-21T15:41:48","modified_gmt":"2022-09-21T19:41:48","slug":"climate-change","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pensivejournal.com\/prose\/climate-change\/","title":{"rendered":"Climate Change"},"content":{"rendered":"

My husband Frank and I were on the Jersey Turnpike heading north to visit my mother.\u00a0 <\/span>We had passed two exits when he said \u201cYou\u2019re awfully quiet.\u00a0 <\/span>Did I do something wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry.\u00a0 <\/span>Of course not.\u00a0 <\/span>I\u2019m a bit distracted.\u00a0 <\/span>Ann called. Mom\u2019s on one of her rants.\u00a0 <\/span>She\u2019s obsessing about death\u2014specifically what to do with her body after <\/i>she dies.\u00a0 <\/span>Says she\u2019s worried about the environmental mess her generation\u2019s leaving behind, cemeteries taking too much land, we should find better ways to dispose of bodies.\u00a0 <\/span>Ann said Mom\u2019s exploring some bizarre idea called \u2018above ground decomposition\u2019. \u00a0 <\/span>It\u2019s like composting, except for people.\u00a0 <\/span>Can you believe it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs this another one of her crusades,\u201d he said, \u201cor is something else going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know, but Ann\u2019s wangled me into talking with Mom about it.\u00a0 <\/span>She says if she does they\u2019ll end up arguing.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBlessed are the peacemakers,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t the first time my sister had tried that line.\u00a0 <\/span>I didn\u2019t always bite, but on this occasion she probably was right. \u00a0 <\/span>Two years older than I, Ann lived within ten minutes of our mother in a Boston suburb, whereas Frank and I were three hundred and twenty-five miles away in Philadelphia.\u00a0 <\/span>Mom and Ann were close, but proximity didn\u2019t guarantee harmony. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Our mother was like a modern-day prophet–let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.\u00a0 <\/span>It may have been admirable from a distance, but at close range it was unsettling.\u00a0 <\/span>I remembered the time Ann called me in hysterics at midnight.\u00a0 <\/span>Mom had been arrested after she and her friends had written \u201cremember Chernobyl\u201d in red paint on the edifice of a company entrusted with designing safer, cheaper nuclear power plants.\u00a0 <\/span>Mom said it was a contradiction in terms. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Fresh troops were called for, although Mom would bristle at that analogy. Most of the time I avoided tough subjects, especially where she was concerned.\u00a0 <\/span>No matter how reasonable my arguments, she could mow them down with the efficiency of a John Deere harvester.<\/p>\n

Frank was the opposite.\u00a0 <\/span>An experienced sailor, he delighted in bracing seas, but on the home front he appreciated calm, and that is what we had given each other for thirty-five years. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnn was the gutsy one,\u201d I said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cShe stayed close to home. My way of coping was to marry you and move away.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI assume escaping your mother wasn\u2019t the only reason you married me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I twisted around to look at him, my seat belt straining, pulling against my shoulder. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know that\u2019s not true.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

His wispy ginger red hair had receded to the center of his head, while soft gray ones sprouted on the side of his neck.\u00a0 <\/span>His ears and nose were large, but somehow they fit his big-boned body and his dear face. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not her causes that are exasperating,\u201d I said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s her tactics.\u00a0 <\/span>Now she\u2019s turned into an eco-zealot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs she all right?\u00a0 <\/span>After all, she is eighty-five.\u00a0 <\/span>It tends to focus the mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMom\u2019s as solid as the granite boulder in her back yard.\u201d<\/p>\n

Even as I said it, I wondered. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I stared out the window.\u00a0 <\/span>A sprawling cemetery stretched along the Garden State Parkway near Newark. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRemember when Harry died?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

One of Frank\u2019s golfing buddies, Harry had prostate cancer which he\u2019d ignored until it was too late.\u00a0 <\/span>I made sure Frank went for an annual checkup, kept track of his PSA levels on a chart on my computer, researched dietary recommendations, served him lots of tomatoes, pink grapefruit, and watermelon. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe never talked about what Carol did with his body,\u201d I said.\u00a0 <\/span>Harry\u2019s wife had scattered his ashes off Martha\u2019s Vineyard. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy talk about it?\u00a0 <\/span>Better to remember old Harry making that hole-in-one during The\u00a0 <\/span>Club championship.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf there\u2019s no place where the body rests,\u201d I said, \u201cwhere do you go to mourn?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe could look out over The Lagoon and take comfort knowing he was there.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Where\u2019s there<\/i>?\u00a0 <\/span>If you\u2019re everywhere, are you anywhere?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t go all theological on me.\u00a0 <\/span>If you want to explore the big questions, ask Reverend Morton.\u201d<\/p>\n

It started to spit rain.\u00a0 <\/span>Drops sliced across the car windows.\u00a0 <\/span>I reached over and rubbed his shoulder. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve never told me what you\u2019d want if you die,\u201d I said. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean \u2018if\u2019?\u00a0 <\/span>Like taxes, it\u2019s gonna happen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease God, not for a long time.\u00a0 <\/span>What would I do without you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll be well taken care of, that\u2019s what\u2019s important. For the rest, you decide.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>\u201cWhat makes you think you\u2019ll go first?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I pulled an antacid out of my purse and chewed it.\u00a0 <\/span>Frank was grafted on me as surely as the apple branches he spliced onto a tree in our back yard. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s face it,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019ve got ten years on you, so it\u2019s more likely.\u00a0 <\/span>I\u2019ll bet your Mom\u2019s thinking about her future so you won\u2019t have to.\u00a0 <\/span>Good for her. Hear her out, that\u2019s my advice.\u00a0 <\/span>In the meantime, we\u2019re coming to a rest stop and I\u2019ve gotta pee.\u00a0 <\/span>You want anything?\u201d<\/p>\n

Four hours later we were in Newton.\u00a0 <\/span>Mother still lived in the two-story, white-shingled house where we\u2019d moved in 1962 after she and my dad divorced.\u00a0 <\/span>The posters in my bedroom were long gone but she\u2019d kept the same cherry double bed, nightstand, dresser, bookcase and rocker.\u00a0 <\/span>Frugality personified, she\u2019d been too cheap to dry clean the same old drapes she\u2019d let me pick out when I was a teenager, so the linings hung an inch below the flower-patterned fabric.\u00a0 <\/span>She had grudgingly allowed Frank to buy and install a window air conditioner, which we turned on as soon as we arrived.\u00a0 <\/span>The space worked for me when I was a kid, but it felt small when Frank, a substantial six feet three inches and two hundred-five pounds, navigated around the furniture.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Books about death spanned a whole shelf.\u00a0 <\/span>I took one, sat down on the bed and leafed through it. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLook at these,\u201d I said.\u00a0<\/span> <\/i>\u201cWhat do you make of them?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The pages were peppered with black and white etchings similar to Edvard Munch\u2019s The Scream.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cYour Mom\u2019s a reader,\u201d he said, \u201calways has been.\u00a0 <\/span>You\u2019ve been worried about how to broach the subject.\u00a0 <\/span>There\u2019s your opening.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was atypically warm for a mid-September morning.\u00a0 <\/span>Mom was seated cross legged on the grass in the back yard digging up mint that threatened to take over her flower beds.\u00a0 <\/span>She had on a pair of old jeans and a faded navy T-shirt from the Natural Resources Defense Council.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d I said. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMint leaves make great pesto.\u00a0 <\/span>Have you ever tried it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t say I have.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I brushed my hand across the grass to be sure it wasn\u2019t damp, then sat down beside her.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou know,\u201d she said, \u201cgardening is quite contemplative.\u00a0 <\/span>When you\u2019re this close to the ground, you see stuff you otherwise wouldn\u2019t.\u00a0 <\/span>Take, for example, this maple seedling.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>She held it close to her eyes, then handed it to me.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cLook how perfectly it curves out from the weighted center, designed to float and land somewhere to generate new life.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank and I had maple trees in our backyard, too.\u00a0 <\/span>In the spring, the buds covered my freshly mulched flower beds in ugly yellow-green detritus.\u00a0 <\/span>I twisted the seedling between my thumb and forefinger, then tossed it on the ground.\u00a0 <\/span>How could I maneuver this conversation to talk about mortality? \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know that book about international death rituals you\u2019ve got in my old bedroom? \u00a0 <\/span>I don\u2019t think it was there the last time we visited.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHas Ann been talking with you?\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>She looked at me with the hint of a smile that emphasized the half-moon creases around her cheeks.\u00a0 <\/span>Her thick gray hair, worn in a simple bob that hung just below her ears, looked white in the sunlight.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cShe worries too much.\u201d<\/p>\n

She took off her gardening gloves and stuffed them in the pocket of her jeans.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go sit on the back porch,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

I pulled her upright.\u00a0 <\/span>The skin on her arms looked like crushed tissue paper, the veins on her hands bulged.\u00a0 <\/span>Was she less solid than I thought? \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThanks,\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI can manage, but I get stiff when I sit too long.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

We eased into weathered wooden chairs near the porch railing. \u00a0 <\/span>My rocking chair had an annoying squeak on the back-swing. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Frank?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cSaid it was a glorious day so he decided to walk into the Center, pick up a Wall Street Journal,<\/i> and get a cup of coffee.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou found a real gem there, even if he is a Bush Republican.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t say \u201cunlike your Dad,\u201d but I knew what she thought. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Squeak, rock, squeak, rock, squeak, rock.<\/p>\n

A flash of bright orange flew across the yard into a tree.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cBaltimore Oriole.\u00a0 <\/span>I used to see a lot of them around here.\u00a0 <\/span>There aren\u2019t so many anymore.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I tried to spot the elusive bird but all I could see was rustling foliage.<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like a cup of tea, my dear?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a good idea.\u00a0 <\/span>Let me get it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019ll do it.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>She patted my arm.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou stay on the porch and enjoy the birds.\u201d<\/p>\n

While she worked in the kitchen, I cast about for a way to navigate The Conversation. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

In a few minutes, she backed out the door and placed a blue plastic tray on a slatted wooden table in front of us, then poured two cups from an old china teapot with a chipped spout. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The tea was scalding hot.\u00a0 <\/span>I drank it in small sips.<\/p>\n

\u201cDeath is a hard subject,\u201d I said, \u201cespecially when it\u2019s about those we love.\u00a0 <\/span>I can\u2019t imagine you gone.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve had to say good-bye to several friends.\u00a0 <\/span>Whenever I do, I think it\u2019s my turn next.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>She sipped her tea.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf I look back on my life, very little has come out as I expected, but whatever the Almighty has in mind will be fine.\u00a0 <\/span>It\u2019s the future of creation I\u2019m worried about.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOn balance, has it been good?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yes, very good.\u00a0 <\/span>I\u2019m sorry you kids had to endure the divorce.\u00a0 <\/span>It probably wounded you more than I understood, but at the time, I felt like I didn\u2019t have much choice.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stopped rocking.\u00a0 <\/span>I was tempted to ask if she had factored Ann and me into her moral calculus, but what would be the point?\u00a0 <\/span>A spider crawled along the arm of my chair.\u00a0 <\/span>I flicked it off and crushed it with my foot.<\/p>\n

. \u201cWhat we\u2019re doing to the environment is unconscionable,\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cFuture generations, kids like Spencer, are going to feel the brunt of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ann\u2019s son and daughter-in-law had produced one grandson who visited Mom regularly.\u00a0 <\/span>Frank and I had a thirty-eight-year-old daughter who thus far had avoided the marital state. Prospects for grandchildren were increasingly dim. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe can\u2019t go on like this,\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cClimate change is ravaging the planet.\u00a0 <\/span>I helped organize a green-living teach-in at City Hall last April but it feels like I\u2019m spitting in the wind. I\u2019ve been thinking about how to make a final witness.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSomething like a bequest to the NRDC?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve already done that.\u201d<\/p>\n

This was new information. I didn\u2019t need the money, but Ann, a divorcee who taught history at a community college, might be grateful for a boost. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said, \u201csomething more personal.\u00a0 <\/span>There\u2019s got to be a better way to dispose of dead bodies.\u00a0 <\/span>We think we\u2019re environmentally responsible by shifting to cremations, but those furnaces spew carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, and soot into the atmosphere, and consume tons of natural gas.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I could feel a headache coming on.\u00a0 <\/span>What had Frank said?\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cListen.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve never thought about it,\u201d I said. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s just the problem.\u00a0 <\/span>People aren\u2019t thinking.\u201d<\/p>\n

Breathe.\u00a0 <\/span>Hear her out.<\/p>\n

\u201cObviously you have,\u201d I said. \u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat did you have in mind?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been reading about liquefaction.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>She spooled out the word as if it were a poem.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s a kind of chemical bath that leaves a carbon footprint only a tenth of cremation and there are no fumes.\u00a0 <\/span>The nutrients can be used as fertilizer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFertilizer?\u00a0 <\/span>Please tell me you\u2019re kidding.\u00a0 <\/span>What are we supposed to do, ask mourners to wear green knee boots to the memorial service?\u00a0 <\/span>Couldn\u2019t you be a little more…traditional?\u201d<\/p>\n

Even as I said it I knew this was the wrong argument.\u00a0 <\/span>She enjoyed flying in the face of convention. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTradition?\u00a0 <\/span>Whose tradition?\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf we were in India, you could light a funeral pyre on the banks of the Ganges.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/b> \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut we\u2019re not in India, we\u2019re here.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

And with that exchange, I regressed into a self-conscious teenager who had walked into our house with my girlfriend Marsha whose father was in Vietnam.\u00a0 <\/span>Mom was on her hands and knees, painting anti-war signs on the kitchen floor.\u00a0 <\/span>I had listened to her often enough to think she was right, but how would Marsha react?\u00a0 <\/span>I was embarrassed.\u00a0 <\/span>Mom was oblivious. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She shifted in her chair and put her hand on my arm.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cCalm down, I checked, it\u2019s not legal in Massachusetts, at least not yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

They say whatever tendencies you have get exaggerated in old age.\u00a0 <\/span>Mom\u2019s prophetic inclinations were morphing into the histrionic. We had reached an impasse.\u00a0 <\/span>What else was new? \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Somewhere in the distance a woodchipper erupted with a deafening roar.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, ladies!\u201d Frank mounted the back porch steps.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHave you solved all the problems of the universe? \u00a0 <\/span>I picked up some bagels and cream cheese while I was in the center.\u201d<\/p>\n

He patted my shoulder, then leaned over and kissed Mom on top of her head. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you two haven\u2019t had breakfast yet, and if Mom lets me use her kitchen, I could rustle up some scrambled eggs and bacon to go with them.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

At three o\u2019clock in the morning, I was awakened by Frank calling my name and jostling my arm. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou were yelling,\u201d he said. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I buried my head in a pillow.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d I said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cGo back to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m awake now.\u201d He sat up and leaned his back against the headboard.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI had a nightmare.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I was still in that half-sleep, half-awake mode of magical thinking, afraid the telling would give it power.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t talk, you won\u2019t be able to sleep,\u201d he said, \u201cI won\u2019t sleep, and we\u2019ll be rough company for your mother in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat up and took a sip of water from a cup on the nightstand.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was horrible!\u00a0 <\/span>I was on a rocking chair on the back porch.\u00a0 <\/span>Ann and I were feeding Mom\u2019s dead body into this industrial sized woodchipper.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo wonder you were terrified.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cA gooey pink substance spewed over the railing onto the backyard bushes.\u00a0 <\/span>It looked like when the neighbor\u2019s dog barfed on our deck. That\u2019s when you woke me up.\u201d<\/p>\n

What I didn\u2019t tell him, but what frightened me even more was the sight of another body, taller, bulkier, propped up in the corner of the porch, also slated for the chipper. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Frank took me in his arms and kissed my forehead.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou poor girl, you\u2019re shivering.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI tried to reason with her,\u201d I said, \u201cbut her thinking is so unconventional.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI love all of you, even with your peculiarities.\u00a0 <\/span>Now,\u201d he said as he tucked me snugly into the duvet, \u201ccan we get back to sleep?\u201d<\/p>\n

He stroked my hair until I nodded off.<\/p>\n

I awakened to the sound of fierce wind rattling the windows.\u00a0 <\/span>Ann\u2019s old Honda Civic was in the driveway.\u00a0 <\/span>A buttery sweet aroma wafted up the stairs.\u00a0 <\/span>When I walked into the kitchen, Frank, Mom, and Ann were seated at a round table eating buckwheat pancakes. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHi, hon,\u201d Frank said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYour mother\u2019s outdone herself.\u00a0 <\/span>Sit down and have some.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom returned to the stove and poured batter onto a big black cast iron skillet.\u00a0 <\/span>While her back was turned, Ann mouthed the words \u201cDid you talk with her?\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>I grimaced and shrugged my shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom,\u201d Ann blurted out, \u201cdid you tell Marti about some of your wackadoodle ideas?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Mom turned around and waved a spatula at Ann. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy does it matter what happens to my body after I die?\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe\u2019re 93% stardust anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf that\u2019s the case,\u201d Ann said, \u201clet\u2019s turn your ashes into glass jewelry so we can pass it on to future generations.\u00a0 <\/span>Just think.\u00a0 <\/span>You could be a key chain or a bracelet.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/i>\u201cOr a Christmas tree ornament,\u201d I said. \u201cOne ended up in a thrift store a while ago.\u00a0 <\/span>I read about it in The Philadelphia Inquirer.<\/i>\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe reductio ad absurdum <\/i>would jolt her into common sense.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cSince we\u2019re exercising our imaginations,\u201d Mom said, \u201cI could have a sky burial like they do in Tibet, let my body get devoured by turkey vultures.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She turned her back on us and flipped the pancakes, then deposited three on my plate and pushed a cruet of maple syrup in front of me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI used to hate riding in the car with you,\u201d I said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou had a bumper sticker for every cause.\u00a0 <\/span>You made me squirm with all your convictions.\u00a0 <\/span>You were so public about it.\u00a0 <\/span>Isn\u2019t that enough?\u00a0 <\/span>Do you have to do it in death, too?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can see the obituary now,\u201d Ann said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe body will lie in state in the Smithfield Family Farm where it gradually will unite with cow dung until everything becomes fertilizer for next year\u2019s corn crop.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank put his fork down mid-bite with a narrow-eyed look I hadn\u2019t seen since our five year old daughter threw herself, kicking and screaming, on the living room floor.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, ladies,\u201d he said, \u201cwe\u2019re having a nice breakfast here.\u00a0 <\/span>Why don\u2019t you all take a deep breath, pull yourselves off the gangplank and onto dry land.\u00a0 <\/span>I want to digest my breakfast in peace.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m an old lady,\u201d Mom said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m going to die one of these days.\u00a0 <\/span>I\u2019m only trying to make my death mean something.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot, we hope, any time soon,\u201d he said. \u201cYour life <\/i>means something, to your family, your friends, who knows how many others you\u2019ve inspired. \u00a0 <\/span>Isn\u2019t that enough?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Frank.\u00a0 <\/span>I appreciate the sentiment, especially from you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>\u201cLook,\u201d he said, \u201cyou are a formidable presence.\u00a0 <\/span>When you die, you will leave a big hole in our hearts. Marti and Ann have told you that something unconventional would be even harder on them.\u00a0 <\/span>Have you thought about that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSince when did you turn into a family counselor?\u201d Ann said. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSince the beginning of breakfast.\u00a0 <\/span>I\u2019m not just a pretty face, you know.\u00a0 <\/span>I appreciate a little creative tension.\u00a0 <\/span>Not, however, when it threatens peace in this family.\u00a0 <\/span>My old philosophy professor said love means willing the good of the other.\u00a0 <\/span>You love each other too much to fight about this.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Frank wiped his lips with a linen napkin and tossed it on the table.\u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow important is it to have a place <\/i>to go when you mourn?\u201d Mom said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNo cemetery, no worry about keeping the plot pretty.\u00a0 <\/span>Besides, would you and Marti come all the way from Philadelphia to visit a cemetery<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know the answer to that one,\u201d he said, \u201cbut the need to reverence a person, the body that was <\/i>that person, is <\/i>important.\u00a0 <\/span>That, my dear mother-in-law, is why your ideas worry us.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank had managed to lower the temperature in the room, even if the stove was still hot. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOw, ow, ow\u201d Mom shrieked as the skillet crashed to the floor, pancakes scattered under the table.\u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I bolted up so fast that my chair fell backwards. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Mom\u2019s eyes were shut, her mouth compressed in pain.\u00a0 <\/span>She clutched her hand against her chest. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Ann rushed over, led her to the sink and held her hand under the tap.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet the cold water run on your hand for a while until we can assess the damage,\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>Ann rubbed her back in a circular motion.\u00a0 <\/span>Mom\u2019s shoulders gradually eased. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow bad is it?\u201d I said. \u201cDo you hurt anywhere else?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m all right.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>Mom waved us away and turned off the faucet.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDon\u2019t fuss.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I returned the skillet to the stove and grabbed some paper towels.\u00a0 <\/span>Frank helped me clean up the mess. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow could I be so stupid?\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>She studied her pink palm, then wiped her hand with a towel. \u201cThe potholder was right in front of me and I forgot to use it.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Had there been other incidents?\u00a0 <\/span>Was this a warning?\u00a0 <\/span>What was she not telling us?<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear that cast iron skillet has gotten heavier over the years,\u201d she said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI should get rid of it but I love how evenly it cooks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was an accident,\u201d I said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNevertheless, Mom, it\u2019s time for you to get a check-up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t let your pancakes get cold,\u201d she said as she massaged her arm. \u201cI don\u2019t see what all the fuss is about.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The refrigerator kicked in with an annoying hum. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>\u201cSit down!\u201d Ann ordered. \u00a0 <\/span>She went to the bathroom and returned with some antibiotic cream. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRemember,\u201d Mom said, \u201cwhen you girls tented a blanket over the couch and onto the floor and had what you called a \u2018sleepover\u2019 in the living room?\u00a0 <\/span>You raised a ruckus when you thought you saw spiders.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe worked ourselves into quite a state,\u201d I said. \u201cYou rushed downstairs, took us by the hand, waved a flashlight under the couch, and all we saw were dust bunnies.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>\u201cI learned a long time ago,\u201d she said, \u201cthe best way to face a fear is stare it down.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs that what this is all about?\u201d Frank said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI did a little research on the web last night.\u00a0 <\/span>If you sisters want to have a place to visit Mom after she dies, there are a few spots in Massachusetts that allow green burials.\u00a0 <\/span>Or if place is not essential, and I don\u2019t know how you\u2019d feel about this, Mom, perhaps could you donate your body to scientific research.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou!\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>I said, \u201cthe poster child for death avoidance.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf nothing else, your Mom has made me think.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span>He reached across the table and rested his big hand on her shoulder.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou see, you already have accomplished something.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank and I were quiet as we drove back to Philadelphia.\u00a0 <\/span>He turned on NPR.\u00a0 <\/span>Bill McKibben was being interviewed about his latest book on climate change. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I turned off the radio. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think we should visit more often,\u201d I said. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Frank drummed his index finger on the steering wheel.\u00a0 <\/span>Suddenly a BMW whizzed in front of our Volvo and veered into the left lane.\u00a0 <\/span>I grabbed the oh-shit handle above the door. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhew!\u201d he said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSorry!\u00a0 <\/span>I didn\u2019t see that coming.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He flicked on the turn signal and eased into the slow lane.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom can be out there,\u201d he said, \u201cbut can you ever think of a time when she was wrong on the essentials?\u201d<\/p>\n

I had assumed Frank thought she was a loony lefty. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou left a spot of shaving cream under your earlobe.\u00a0 <\/span>You\u2019re always doing that.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I fished a tissue out of my purse, reached over and gently wiped it.\u00a0 <\/span>He was right, I just didn\u2019t want to admit it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My husband Frank and I were on the Jersey Turnpike heading north to visit my mother.\u00a0 We had passed two exits when he said \u201cYou\u2019re awfully quiet.\u00a0 Did I do something wrong?\u201d \u201cSorry.\u00a0 Of course not.\u00a0 I\u2019m a bit distracted.\u00a0 Ann called. Mom\u2019s on one of her rants.\u00a0 She\u2019s obsessing about death\u2014specifically what to do…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":123,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"issue":[8],"coauthors":[],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nClimate Change | Pensive Journal<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/pensivejournal.com\/prose\/climate-change\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Climate Change | Pensive Journal\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"My husband Frank and I were on the Jersey Turnpike heading north to visit my mother.\u00a0 We had passed two exits when he said \u201cYou\u2019re awfully quiet.\u00a0 Did I do something wrong?\u201d \u201cSorry.\u00a0 Of course not.\u00a0 I\u2019m a bit distracted.\u00a0 Ann called. 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