The beaches of southern Maine are blanketed with soft white sand.
Out on the Atlantic, along with an array of sailboats; countless buoys dot the horizon. Most of them are attached to lobster traps on the sea floor. A single-propeller plane, with a lettered sign in tow, pans the length of the beach advertising a local restaurant. A gentle sea breeze carries the sound of gulls, waves crashing, children playing, and traces of Red Sox baseball on AM radio.
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Twenty miles north of the Port of Los Angeles, just north of the Palos Verdes peninsula; South Santa Monica Bay, California. Sand ranges from fine to course; much imported by trucks over the years. A fine grey dust coats the beach. Tire tracks. A power plant towers above to the east. The area is host to three oil refineries; three tanker ships are within eye shot on the Pacific. International waters, where much of the city's waste is deposited, begin just 5 miles off the coast. Helicopters chop north and south along the shoreline throughout the day.
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My mother grew up working on her family farm in Aroostook County, Maine. On a visit home to New England few years back, I walked with her to a stream she and her siblings use to drink from. Her enthusiasm with how cold and clear the water was had me immediately embrace this simple pleasure.
Much of the surrounding farm land was quiet; having not been harvested in years.
Each time I visit, I hold close how much it feels like it must have fifty years ago . .
Houlton, ME is as close as I've been to the way things were.
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The city of Chicago is America's best answer to the Pyramids of Egypt. A man made marvel with each structure more unique and impressive than the last. An amazing array of architectural variances from an incredible stretch of time. With a simply look, it's obvious how it earned the title; "City of the Century".
My year here has brought me great perspective of past meeting present.
From Boston, to Los Angeles, to Chicago; I've been living within cutting edge surroundings for over a decade. From growing up in a small town in New Hampshire; my instincts had me looking towards the bigger and more extravagant. Yet, something ancient in me has had me yearning for simpler times since the beginning . .
My latest port of call has provided a greater sense of being.
The question: Are we better off today than we were in the past?
The debate will never reach a conclusion; there are too many valid points to each side . .
Before the industrial revolution, the planet was a far cleaner, healthier place. Before television and internet, parents had far more command of their children's education and exposure to the world. Before personal electronic communication, people had more meaningful relationships with one another. Before the discovery of oil and natural gas, our food was more natural and wholesome, and the population was sustainable.
On the other hand; industry has pushed medical technology to a stage eons beyond the imagination of previous generations. Life expectancy has practically doubled over the past few centuries. Children have access to unlimited volumes of information; well beyond the limitations of their local public libraries. Electronic communications have enabled people to connect from all corners of the globe; given people the ability to remain a click away from those they'd like to keep in contact with. Fossil fuels have not only created an unprecedented increase in population, but also kept it comfortable to this point. Fuel has also enabled us convenient access to all nations on Earth via automobile, train, sea vessel, and airplane.
Quality of life is not quantifiable . .
There is no way to properly score the advantage to disadvantage ratio of old versus new . .
It's all a matter of opinion.
I like to think things were much simpler and less stressful before the information age went ballistic. I fully embrace the modern luxuries I possess and recognize the great challenges of years long ago . .
But at what cost?
As technology stacks upon technology, disinformation stacks upon information, commerce paves across earth, oil invades ecosystems, and distraction clogs television and radio waves . .
I tend to believe less just might be more.
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I'm heading back east in the morning for a week and a half. I look forward to returning to the nature and personal who raised me. I look forward to seeing the people who helped shape my foundation.
I'm thankful technology enabled me to get this message to you.
Sand continues to pass through the hourglass . . .
http://www.independent.co.uk/environment/the-worlds-rubbish-dump-a-garbage-tip-that-stretches-from-hawaii-to-japan-778016.html
