Every so often, I get sent surveys, or see questions popping up on blogs or in e-mails that friends forward to me, pertaining to being more "green" in terms of how I live my life. And while I lack the time, the knowledge, the means, and the impetus to become a true granola-crunching environmentalist living totally off the grid, I do what I can. And when you get right down to it, I think that's probably true of most people. The trouble is, unless you've got all the time and/or money in the world, and you're lucky enough to live someplace other than a small city in the rural Midwest, there's really not an awful lot you can do.
Let's take the famous "carbon footprint" issue that several wingnuts and extremists have been using to swiftboat Al Gore (and, more recently, to criticize the Live Earth concerts we just saw this past weekend). The idea is to put as little carbon into the cycle as possible. If you do something that adds a lot of carbon, you're supposed to try to offset it by taking an equal or greater amount out. One of the more common suggestions for reducing your carbon footprint is to cut down on the amount of driving you do.
Well I don't personally know anybody who's doing truly superfluous driving. The days when the family would hop into the station wagon and go cruise around the countryside of an evening or a weekend afternoon pretty much disappeared after 1973 and the first Arab oil embargo, if the culture of the late '60s and early '70s hadn't killed them off before then. I drive to and from work every weekday, and to and from church on Sundays. Every once in a while, often on my way home from work, I stop in to visit my folks. Every couple of weeks, often on my way home from church on Sunday, I go shopping for groceries and whatnot. Otherwise, my car is sitting parked outside my apartment or near my office. Exactly which of those activities am I supposed to cut out? Carpooling isn't really an option, because (a) I live in an area that's fairly inconvenient for most people who work where I do, and (b) since I'm also going to graduate school in addition to working a professional job, I don't always go into the office or come home from the office at the same time. Heck, there are some days/weeks/months when I never know when I'll be going home, or maybe it just seems that way.
But when I bought a new (to me) car last year, I did try to get a model that got better gas mileage than the one I was getting rid of. A hybrid would have been wonderful, but there was no way I could swing the payments unless I managed to win the lottery or to get on Jeopardy! and win some truly big bucks. Am I therefore supposed to feel guilty because I live in a country that decided, a generation before I came onto the scene, that it needed the wide open spaces? The nearest, well, pretty much anything, from my apartment is at least half a mile away--and there are no sidewalks such that I could walk to those places, and walking along the side of a major state highway, particularly in inclement weather, is too big a risk to take just to get some toilet paper or a jug of milk.
When I'm in France, I can see how having a car might be superfluous. But they designed their cities and towns that way--each neighborhood has its own bakery, cheese shop, butcher shop, greengrocer, etc., and public transportation is, while not ubiquitous, at least far more readily available than it is here. I simply can't pick up what I need to make dinner every night on the way home, and there is no public transportation that serves the area where I live--and even if there were, it would likely only run on a very limited schedule such that it would almost certainly not fit my needs.
Or how about the thing that got me on this kick in the first place? As my regular readers know, I'm currently in Los Angeles at a professional conference through this weekend. The conference hotel, as with virtually every hotel I've stayed at in the last 10 years or more (and that's quite a few of them, in multiple countries), has little signs posted in its guest bathrooms stating that, as part of an effort to reduce the amount of water and detergent consumed in the world every day, they'd appreciate it if you'd consider using your towels more than just once. I like that idea, and everywhere I see those signs or stickers posted, I always hang my towels up on the rack like it says to do if you don't want them changed. And every time I come back to my room after the housekeepers have been through, I find my hanging towels gone, and fresh ones inserted into the holders in their places. Do I have to write a little note telling the maids not to change my towels, or are the hotels just putting out those signs to make their customers think they give a damn about the environment?
I guess what I'm saying with all this is that (a) global warming isn't entirely my fault, and (b) I don't think I should have to feel guilty because I'm not doing more to help the environment. I use my towels more than once at home, and would be happy to do so when I travel, if only I could discover the secret signal that the housekeepers need. I hang up my shirts to dry, both out of habit from the days when I was saving quarters to do laundry in laundry rooms or laundromats, but also because they last longer and don't fade as much if I do that. (Same reason I wash most of them in cold water, now that I have my own washer and dryer and don't have to wait until I'm out of clothes to do the laundry.) I always use the lowest water setting on the washer that will allow the laundry to move about properly. I don't run the faucet when I'm brushing my teeth, or doing dishes by hand. I stop my dishwasher when the washing cycle is done and let the dishes air-dry. I had my landlords install a programmable thermostat in my apartment, so it doesn't run as much when I'm not there, and I don't turn the temperature way up in the winter or way down in the summers--just enough to keep it comfortable, bearing in mind that in winter I can always put on a sweatshirt or pull up an afghan or a lap rug if my feet get cold, and that fans also help cool me down in the summers. Whenever possible, I leave the furnace or the air conditioning off altogether, and rely on the atmosphere to help. I turn off lights when I'm not in the room mostly, and if I do leave them on, it isn't for long.
All of that means that while my carbon footprint is probably bigger than it could be, it's not as big as those of many other people. Am I supposed to feel guilty because it isn't zero? If so, then I'm sorry to have to say that's not going to happen. I'm doing what I can, and frankly, that's more than a lot of people can say. Not to mention the fact that several of the people I work with at the university are either trying to get a better handle on climate change and how it works, or are actively working on ways to make alternative energy sources both practical and marketable. How much is one person expected to do?
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