It's OK to Panic Now, and You Probably Should
I have become suspicious of the weather. Since I moved to Santa Cruz in Fall 2015, California has experienced two droughts, one abnormally wet El Niño, and two historic fire seasons. 2020 started dry and didn’t see rain for nearly two months. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about clear, beautiful, warm weather, but this didn’t feel like winter. It was great to spend the short days outside, unencumbered by rain or cold. But as two became three became four weeks of no rain in the dead of winter, I stopped celebrating and started fearing that California wouldn’t see rain until the following November. In California, as in most of the Pacific Coast, no rain means wildfire.
Even if your town isn't decimated in the next six months (see Google search results for Santa Rosa, Paradise, or Ventura if you forgot that a few months ago, journalists used to cover things other than coronavirus), it will at some point be unhealthy to breathe outside air due to smoke pollution. This is true even in escapist destinations like Santa Cruz.
Bay Area money seeks peace of mind. It flows up and over nearby hills and blows gentrification bubbles. It brings a cohort who can afford to leave Silicon Valley stress behind. In exchange for millions, Bay Area money gets you a beach bungalow and a world-class Mediterranean climate. But come late summer and fall, the air will be rotten white regardless of where you are. It may be less bad on the coast, but the most escapist among us will still need to take caution just to breathe the air. A seven-figure income cannot save you from the effect we – middle to upper to 1% class – have had and continue to have on people and the planet.
I am uncomfortable with the comfortable attitude here.
I say all of this knowing full well that I am insulated from the harshest socioeconomic effects of a warming climate. I am a cis-gender straight white male who grew up in an upper middleclass home; I am university educated with no student debt and am paid enough to (just) afford a room in a house in an abhorrent housing market. There are no factories in my neighborhood. There are no Styrofoam containers or plastic bags allowed in retail stores here. I have easy access to miles and miles of beautiful open space. There is a beach at the end of my street. I have lived in Santa Cruz for five years and have already seen it change. The coastal pedestrian path is eroding into the water. Waves frequently crash onto the road during storms. The topsoil is retreating as the sea rises, slowly, year after year. In a few decades, homes may start falling into the sea.
There are a lot of people like me in Santa Cruz. And there are a lot more who struggle more than I likely ever will. For those like me, the laid-back, comfortable attitude here is dangerous. Lest we forget that despite the guise of a beautiful beach town, climate change is not, has never been, and will never be somewhere else. Wildfire smoke will fill your lungs in the next year, and West Cliff Drive will continue to erode into the sea. The worst thing we can do at a time and place like this is get our heads stuck in the sand.
Even if your town isn't decimated in the next six months (see Google search results for Santa Rosa, Paradise, or Ventura if you forgot that a few months ago, journalists used to cover things other than coronavirus), it will at some point be unhealthy to breathe outside air due to smoke pollution. This is true even in escapist destinations like Santa Cruz.
Bay Area money seeks peace of mind. It flows up and over nearby hills and blows gentrification bubbles. It brings a cohort who can afford to leave Silicon Valley stress behind. In exchange for millions, Bay Area money gets you a beach bungalow and a world-class Mediterranean climate. But come late summer and fall, the air will be rotten white regardless of where you are. It may be less bad on the coast, but the most escapist among us will still need to take caution just to breathe the air. A seven-figure income cannot save you from the effect we – middle to upper to 1% class – have had and continue to have on people and the planet.
I am uncomfortable with the comfortable attitude here.
I say all of this knowing full well that I am insulated from the harshest socioeconomic effects of a warming climate. I am a cis-gender straight white male who grew up in an upper middleclass home; I am university educated with no student debt and am paid enough to (just) afford a room in a house in an abhorrent housing market. There are no factories in my neighborhood. There are no Styrofoam containers or plastic bags allowed in retail stores here. I have easy access to miles and miles of beautiful open space. There is a beach at the end of my street. I have lived in Santa Cruz for five years and have already seen it change. The coastal pedestrian path is eroding into the water. Waves frequently crash onto the road during storms. The topsoil is retreating as the sea rises, slowly, year after year. In a few decades, homes may start falling into the sea.
There are a lot of people like me in Santa Cruz. And there are a lot more who struggle more than I likely ever will. For those like me, the laid-back, comfortable attitude here is dangerous. Lest we forget that despite the guise of a beautiful beach town, climate change is not, has never been, and will never be somewhere else. Wildfire smoke will fill your lungs in the next year, and West Cliff Drive will continue to erode into the sea. The worst thing we can do at a time and place like this is get our heads stuck in the sand.
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