On my way into Starbucks yesterday I passed a young woman holding a clipboard and trying to engage passersby in her cause. "Do you have two minutes to save the Earth?" she asked. Her face was open and sincere, and on her T-shirt was a picture of unspoiled wilderness. "I'm sorry," I said, averting my gaze. "I don't."
I was ashamed, but even so, I didn't want to hear about global warming, global dimming, or the damage humans are doing to the aural environment (global loudening?). She gave me a smile anyway and approached someone else. "Do you have two minutes to save the Earth?"
Safely inside, I picked up a pamphlet extolling Starbucks' social responsibility. The air conditioning felt nice, and reading about the company's efforts to purchase Fair Trade Certified coffee and renewable energy certificates cheered me. By buying a tall skinny decaf latte with a shot of sugar-free vanilla syrup, I was doing my part for the Earth, which, to be frank, has turned into a bit of a Jewish mother -- again with the guilt -- but you didn't hear that from me. I enjoyed a sip of my drink.
But then I caught sight of the dot.organista working the sidewalk for the common good -- for my good -- and although she was sweating in the midday sun and having trouble getting an audience, I looked on with envy. She seemed so admirable. I wish I were an environmentalist, I thought.
Well, I wish I wanted to be an environmentalist.
If only I yearned to drive a Prius with an "Is the climate changing or is it just me?" bumper sticker, or, better yet, commuted by bike -- never mind the sleet! When I'm traveling around Italy and Greece, I'd love to insist on going by train or boat, not because I can't afford to fly, but because I'm aghast at the amount of fossil fuels short-haul flights burn.
I want to be the kind of person who talks about "greening my life" and means it honestly, not mockingly. I want to be known for harvesting "greywater" -- or at the very least knowing what it is (water that's been used once but is still clean enough for other jobs). I want to recognize Dasani and Aquafina and Poland Springs, and their rarely recycled plastic bottles, for the environmental menace they are. If only I didn't adore my lime sparkling water so.
I wish I threw dinner parties around a table made from reclaimed recycled barn wood, by a Vermont artisan, and that my friends were eco-sexuals who would stay late into the night calculating food miles and carbon footprints.
I want to want to boycott companies that implement token environmental measures to conceal greater harms -- "greenwashing," it's called -- and care enough to resent biologists who put their education to work for firms that do bad things. "Biostitutes," I'd sneer.
I want to have rushed out to buy Barbara Kingsolver's new book and to envy her attempts to eat only locally grown food, not to think, "What a drag." I want to be excited about the Discovery Channel's plans to start a 24-hour station focused on ecofriendly living. I want to keep my fingers crossed that Al Gore will make "An Even Less Convenient Truth."
I don't want to care about losing money on green stocks and other eco-sensitive investments. For my birthday, it would be fantastic if I desired no presents other than trees planted on my behalf in the Amazon, the better to help me stay carbon neutral.
But most of all, I just wish I could bring myself to schlep a mesh bag to the grocery store every time I shop.