As a person of a certain age and background, I often wax nostalgic in midsummer on the vanished ecological paradise of my boyhood. Birds nested in the yard, there were natural fish in clear streams, box turtles and snakes inhabited the woods. We wandered freely because strict property boundaries were rarely enforced. And there seemed to be many, many fewer people.
Oh, I know a lot of it is illusion. The US had already decimated a lot of its flora and fauna. The rivers were becoming filled with centuries of casually dumped pollution. The air was smoggy. More land was being developed on a large scale day by day. Already, Thoreau would not have recognized our haunts or, if he had, he would certainly have wept.
And yet. Even looking with clearer eyes, there were good points. Lots of land remained quiescent, not required for our multi-fold increase in population. Large stretches of the world remained nearly virgin wilderness. Few species had actually become extinct. Even fought-over Europe, blasted for hundreds of years, remained full of birds, insects, forests.
Alas, much gone now. The real worry has become less “worry” and more “preservation.” No matter where one goes there are lines, fences, rules, and _ often _ crowds. So even though my golden nostalgia is mistaken in a lot of ways, it is not in many others.
Well as we say “it is as it is.” I can only hope sanity prevails at some point, but all that is well beyond my influence and control.
HuntingtonHarborThoughts 