The World Without Us?

I’ve never considered myself to be a day-to-day environmentalist, but late last year I read a book titled The World Without Us, written by Alan Weisman. The book was a fascinating “what if” scientific perspective of what might happen to the planet and all the crap we’ve built- if one day man simply vanished from the face of the earth. Not exactly a pleasant thought (especially since we’re planning a family vacation in early August), but a very interesting thesis given how mankind has treated our home as if it were a giant porta-potty.

I have to admit that I picked up the book primarily out of a fascination of how long it might take the average American home (like mine) and the Gotham-like super structures of our cities to erode, corrode, and simply fall apart or collapse. The book didn’t disappoint in that regard. I was simply amazed at how short a lifespan my house, and for that matter, New York City, would have if we were gone and nobody was home to take care of basic maintenance.

I was also pleasantly surprised to read that cockroaches might soon follow our great leap into oblivion. Apparently without our nuclear-fired squalor and propensity for leaving Cheetos laying around the house like stale popcorn on the floor of your local cinema, these disgusting little bastards would starve to death. Other than mosquitoes and the common house fly, I can’t think of another creature I would rather have rotting beside my dusty corpse.

However, the true beauty of Mr. Weisman’s tome wasn’t the scientific expertise of how our post Dark Ages structures would fall apart, but the resurging aftermath of nature taking back the earth once we are all gone. No more fishing trawlers (or human demand) decimating the ocean’s vast species of aquatic life, no more man-made poisons in the fields, and no more cars spewing carbon monoxide into the atmosphere. Environmentalist or not, it’s hard not to fall in love with the thought of a distant future where plants and animals reclaim what was, and is, rightfully their place in the cycle of this planet.

We currently live in a worldwide culture (with apologies to China and their one child per couple policy) where we have lost our ability to count. I’m not even remotely capable of doing the math on how we are going to feed the estimated 10 billion people who will probably be walking the earth in 2075, but I do know that too many people equals not enough food, a messy kitchen, and a very empty refrigerator.

Except for the premise that all mankind would simply disappear with the snap of Mr. Weisman’s talented fingers, I really don’t think it’s such a far-fetched scenario. At the rate mankind is overpopulating the planet, catastrophic disease and famine could be a very real possibility in our lifetimes. Add into the equation our reliance on everything nuclear, and you have the recipe for a disaster of biblical proportions. Given the scenario of the earth looking like a poisoned version of the moon or a landscape repopulated with towering forests and pristine waterways, I’ll take the National Geographic version every time.

Seriously, would it really be all that horrible to imagine a world without us?

Elkhart Will Be Back

Just a few scant years ago, when the manufacturing sector of the economy was humming along at a breathtaking pace, Elkhart was turning out record amounts of recreational vehicles, musical instruments and marine products. Fast-forward to 2009 and Elkhart has become the symbolic dust bowl of America’s faltering industrial machine. Elkhart is down- and the referee in the ring is counting upward to the apocalyptic number ten, but we are rising confidently to our feet, refusing to take the count while lying flat on our backs.

We are staggering to our feet financially poorer, but yet somehow wiser. Gone are the days of decent working wages on the backs of a high school diploma or G.E.D. The classified section of the local newspaper, The Elkhart Truth, has dwindled from three or four pages of “Help Wanted” ads to a quarter page on a good day (like Sundays). A weekend drive along County Road 6 or State Road 13 reveals a montage of industrial “For Sale or Rent” signs in front of empty factories that used to teem with activity five or six days a week.

Many of these hard-working neighbors and friends have packed up and left, leaving foreclosed homes and vacant rentals behind after losing their jobs. The sad thing is that many of these people are not moving to some industrious promise land, but are moving back in with family, even if that means shacking up in Grandma Jean’s spare bedroom in Fort Meyers, FL. But those who have remained, both native Hoosiers and migrants from Mexico and Central America, are doing what is necessary and planning (not hoping) for a better life.

While compacting our lives into manageable means, we are staring hard into the mirror and peering into the future. It is a future where you absolutely must have a skilled trade or education to survive and flourish. Local colleges and trade schools have seen their enrollment skyrocket as the unemployed have enrolled in welding, medical and business classes. We are collectively thumbing our noses at the paradigms of yesterday and shouting “To hell with minimum wage fast food jobs and temporary employment on manufacturing assembly lines!”

We are also recognizing the importance of family versus a monotonous existance of punching the clock and working that Saturday shift for overtime. We are spending more time with our children, an investment that will pay us back in spades with precious memories of mom and dad at Little League games and taking walks in the park. You can’t measure family leisure time spent with grandparents, parents and children in monetary terms, but you can measure it in quality of life.

Mark my words, Elkhart will be back. We may have fewer people and fewer national chain restaurants and stores in the future, but so what? We will be better educated and less dependent on manufacturing, even more culturally diverse, and more appreciative of having battled through the worst of times as a community- a populace that refused to roll over and die.