Day #33

I was thinking about old worries today. From the before. I used to worry about what life for Damian was going to be like as he got older. 

How old was he going to be before life as he knew it turned to crap? The day where the superficial concerns of today are replaced with very real concerns about basic needs. Survival. Not "Where can I get a drink?", but "Where I can I find clean water? Food?"

I believe that climate change is real. I believe climate change is the direct result of nearly 2 centuries of the burning of fossil fuels. I believe that humanity is ultimately doomed. Since we can't even all get on the same page and do what's necessary to stop the spread of COVID I have zero confidence that we will make the drastic changes necessary to not turn Earth, humanity's home, into a desert hellscape. It's not a question of "if" but "when". 

In the coming years, we will see more drought-fueled famines, wild fires, mass die-off of marine life, etc. We will see the ice caps melt, sea levels rise significantly with devastating flooding as a result. 

While the impact of climate change to individuals will largely be directly proportional to one's socio-economic status, with those less fortunate feeling it much sooner than most, it is, in the long run, a zero-sum game: We will ALL lose in the end. Even all the billionaires on their mega-yachts. Just maybe not as quickly as most of us. 

I don't know how long we have before it all turns crappy. Best guess 15 to 30 years. At some point, the bottom is going to fall out. For those willing to see it for what it is, the signs of humanity's impending doom are already there. Unfortunately, those signs are all too often distorted by the lens of politics. So while we argue about what is or isn't happening, or why, our house continues to burn, while we are standing inside it, refusing to call the fire department or being prevented from doing so. 

I used to worry about this for Damian. It was not an all consuming worry but, like climate change itself, it was getting worse with time. It was my job as his father to protect him, now and always. So I worried. (And I recycled my plastics and cardboard.) But now he's gone - I couldn't protect him! - and with him goes my worry about what his future holds. Oh, but how I wouldn't gladly welcome back all those worries if I could have him back. 

I miss you, Damian. 

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