Letter From Hannah Bridges

Dearest Mother, I have a cold right now and I was just thinking yesterday how it would be so nice to have the delicious soup you always made me when I wasn\'t feeling well. How your hand felt my forehead, and how the look on your face showed me you cared. I cannot express to you how much I love you, and I can only hope that I can be just as great for my children. You have taught me so much about life and I have grown into a beautiful human being because of your love, strength, and power. I am writing today because, though I am nowhere near having children, I am concerned already for their well-being (I inherited the worry-wart gene I guess). How can I not be though? With the rapid pace at which we (Americans) are consuming resources and destroying the planet, how can I expect my children to be as safe and healthy as I was as a child? America is 4% of the world\'s population, yet we consume 30% of it\'s resources and at a rate incompatible with the earth\'s ability to sustain us. Knowing these things, why hasn\'t action been taken? Why hasn\'t any real movement come forward as a way to stop this? Why isn\'t it in our headlines and part of Presidential Debate as to how much damage we are doing to ourselves? Fossil fuels, clean water, rain forests, pristine land, species of animals. . . all disappearing. With our insane amounts of burning and usage, we have created a climate change. All of our greed and waste, our unwillingness to examine our own lives and rate of consumption. . . all leading us down a path to destruction and into a world that I will not have the ability to nurture my children as well as you were. Climate increase will cause more rapid spread of sickness and disease, it will kill the polar bears along with hundreds of other forms of wildlife, it will make the air hot and sweltering with chemicals and toxins. How can I be comfortable when they are running and playing, inhaling the sludge of my consumption? This is a grim outlook, yes, but there is always hope. ALWAYS HOPE. We are such smart beings, full of spirit and life. We are made from the very soil of our mother earth. She is the ultimate nurturer, giving us the ability to heal and grow from the nectars of her garden. We can save her, and appreciate her, and love her--just as everyone should love, appreciate, and respect their mother. I know we already use re-usable water bottles, but it is also so important to realize that buying plastic bottles for convenience is selfish to the planet--imagine all the plastic bottles we as a family have ever drank, all piled up in our backyard. . . Because WE don\'t have to see them, doesn\'t mean they aren\'t there. We are toxifying our water, and believe me, they truly are in our backyard--in the ocean, and in our neighbors yard, and with the extreme growth in population. . . the landfills will be someone\'s backyard. Plastic is poison, we don\'t have to use it. Buying from our local farmer\'s market is so important and I know we do it too, but it is even better to plan your shopping around farmer\'s markets and produce. Going to the one in Oxnard in Ventura so that you can get all necessities before going to a grocery store where veggies are shipped from Peru and Ecuador--using fossil fuels, exploiting laborers (somebody\'s father, mother, sister, child), pesticides filling the air. Local produce is less likely to use chemicals, it creates less packaging waste, doesn\'t travel as far, and keep our local economies important and strong. For yours and dad\'s next house, energy efficient appliances, straw or tire insulation (think of Lizzy\'s winery), our own garden, no junk mail and online bill statements (can do this one now)--all of these things creating a sustainable environment that is healthy to live in. I am writing to tell you this today because mothers are so incredibly important in the world. they have the ability to mold and shape youth. they are respected by their communities and have incredibly moving and powerful voices to their family, and to their government when they are united. If these things are talked about, between us as mother and daughter, then between you and husband, you and neighbor, friend, family, community--you and I have the power to coerce government to take the stand they should, protecting us, not their bank accounts. We have the power to make a difference by setting an example and frowning upon greedy consumption and behavior, just as you frowned upon my selfishness, lying, greed, and violence when I was a child. Why tolerate it from ourselves or our government now? I refuse to, and I hope you refuse to also. After all, I haven\'t had my chance to be a mother yet, and this is for my children--your grandchildren, so that they may benefit from the beauty of life, and not suffer in our world of greed. I love you so much, and encourage and appreciate your efforts and everything you\'ve done for me, because you\'re still doing it for me, just as I will for mine. Thank you so much mom!

Letter From Randy

Hey momma. I love you so much! Here is a website sharing all about climate change and how we need drastic change to save our environment. Our world is in a crisis and we need to makes changes! Love you momma!

Letter From Gregory Ellis

Dear Mom, Of what I remember of my childhood, most of it concerns you, warmly. You nurtured me, and I remember! I remember hiking along the Encampment River in Wyoming with you and Tawny-dog when I was a naught but a wee lad, almost too young to remember, but I do. I was a tyrant, I remember, rushing the trail and kicking the bloody hell out of the sagebrush. Sagebrush, which had nothing to offer, not even color, nothing but dry and course and bitter. It cracked easily under my feet and sent up dusty puffs of destruction, tried feebly to scratch back with its dead grey branches. What was the death of one in the infinite country of it in which we lived. Better than nothing to a tyrant who knew nothing better. But you were patient with your tyranical son, you didn't even stop me or yell, as I would later with friends who tore flowers out by their roots. Without even breaking the vast silence of the sagefields, you pinched off a leaf of the plant and crinkled it under my nose, and I stopped and smelled it and didn't say anything. My tyrany didn't end in that instant but over time declined as you showed me what sagebrush really was, its rich pungence inside the grey-green drabbery: its leaves of fine hair to keep water in; the bitterness that protected it from cattle, favored it for pronghorn; the little bugs that convince the bush to grow galls for their larvae, little cotton-lined worlds; the spittle-bugs that hung in its branches like a cowboy's booger; birds that ate the grubs and flew over the fields leaving fertilizer in their droppings; the paintbrush that laces its roots in with the sagebrush, taps in to the deep well of it root system, and therefore only grows--can only grow--alongside in its lipstick glory. Soon sagebrush was everywhere, everything. The birds sang 'sagebrush'. The flowers were somehow not their own but bloomed for the sagebrush. After rain, the country welled up with its original smell. Mom, this is a crazy world, and there are a lot of people who would walk right by a sagebrush and not even bother to give it a kick. What does global warming mean for the plant? I don't know, but if global warming has anything to do with any one thing, I've learned from the sagebrush that it has something to do with everything. You already know more about global warming than me, and the rest of humanity's youthful, innocent tyranny. What can we do? I'm simply asking you to keep on with what you've been doing, mothering the world out of ignorance, linking your children each to each. Lord knows our efforts aren't perfect or complete or final, but I ask you to keep on with them--find ways to make them full. Do it for me if you have to, do it out of your own mother-nature, do it for the sagebrush. Love, Greg

Letter From Jane Lehr

January 15, 2010

Dear Mom,
I know that in many ways we live and define our lives − and what counts as success, as strategy, as community, and as happiness − in sometimes very different ways. I also know that these differences have caused tensions that are sometimes too difficult for either of us to acknowledge − let alone explore, discuss, or address. Too often, this means that we do not talk about the issues and events and ideas that most engage, trouble, or excite either of us.

But I also know this − I know that you intentionally raised me to be a fiercely independent woman. And I know that you are proud of me for choosing independence, for choosing passionate engagement with the world, and acting to create the more just and equitable future that I envision.

But Mom, part of what I have learned over the last years is the importance of building and being part of a community. I have come to embrace (at least some of the time!) the fact that we are all interdependent with each other. I have also learned (and keep learning almost every week it seems) that asking for help is not always a sign of weakness. That, in fact, sometimes asking for help is a sign of strength, and of hope.

And so, Mom, I am writing to you to ask for your help on an issue about which I care very strongly. As you know, there is growing concern about the causes and impact of global climate change. Some scientists even question whether humans will survive the next 100-200 years. And I could easily sit here and list off many facts and figures about the human-made causes of climate change and its likely impact on our planet. But I also know that you don't really like numbers. And so instead, I want to talk to you a little bit about my body.

That's right. My body.

You know my body. Even though I have lived apart from you for a long time, I know you still know it. When I come home, I see you checking it over. I know you are keeping track of my hair and how long or short it is, whether I have split ends, and what color it is. (Right now it's brown. And long. I am still growing it out for Locks of Love.) You look at my fingernails. A lot. I mean, a lot. I think you look at them to see if I have finally started to "take care of my hands like a woman with a PhD and real job should"(I haven't yet) and also to see if I am anemic. You check for bruises and changes to my complexion, and I know that you keep track of changes to my hips, breasts, and stomach. (Yes, I have seen you do this, Mom. Many times.) I think you look to see how we are the same and how we are different, and also how well you remember.

But some changes to my body you can't see as easily. I am thinking, for instance, about what researchers call our "body burden" − the measurement of toxins in our bodies from pesticides and other pollutants. Do you know that if I decide to have a biological child and if I then decide to breastfeed, I will pass on many of the toxins that have accumulated in my body over my lifetime to that child through my breast milk? That, in fact, many of these pollutants can be passed on in utero? The same industrial processes that are poisoning my body are also contributing to global climate change and increasing the "body burden" of our planet.

But it's not just my body that I want to talk to you about. I also want to talk to you about the bodies of your three grandchildren: Sadie, Dylan, and Wyatt. Not only are they already carrying and building up their own body burden of toxins, but global climate change − with its increasingly unpredictable weather patterns, rising salt water levels and related decrease in drinkable water, and impacts on agriculture − global climate change will significantly impact their health and quality of life.

I know that often when I or politicians or news commentators talk to you about climate change, we talk about global or national or maybe regional impacts. And Mom, you know, I am so very concerned about these impacts, and particularly the ways in which those people who are already marginalized by society bear disproportionate burden and risk.

But I also think it is important for all of us to remember that global climate change and its causes do not just affect other people in some other place or some other time. Global climate change and its causes affect you and those you love and those they do and will love as we all move through the rest of our lives.

And so, Mom, I am writing to ask you to also strive to be a fiercely independent woman who takes action to protect the local and global communities about which I know you also strongly care. I would like you to do two concrete things:

1. Please buy a Brita or other water filtration system and a steel water bottle and stop using plastic water bottles. I have read that in the United States, we consume 1500 water bottles a second and that 17 million barrels of oil are used in producing and transporting our bottled water each year. Not only does bottled water cost up to 1000 times more than tap water (hello retirement plan), the plastic of the water bottles also has been shown to leach toxins, and these have been linked to many different types of health problems. Your tap water is actually safer because it is regulated and monitored. Plus, then your water consumption is not contributing directly to global climate change!
2. Please call your elected representatives at the local, state, and national levels and demand that the U.S. take real and binding action to address the causes of climate change and its impacts – both here and in other national contexts, such as nations in the Global South and island nations. You can ask for things like the enactment of legislation to reduce atmospheric carbon dioxide to below 350 parts per million and the ratification of a fair and binding climate change treaty with the nations of the world. Some cities and towns, upset by the slowness of our state and federal governments, are also taking action at the local level. For instance, since 2005, over 1000 different local governments have made a commitment to cut their town or city's carbon footprint and joined the Sierra Club's "Cool Cities" program. Learn more here: http://www.coolcities.us/

And then, if I may, I want to ask you to dream big − just as big as you dreamed for me − and do even more.

This letter is inspired by a campaign of "letters to Moms and actions by Moms" launched at helpusmom.com. This campaign to stop climate change is timed to coincide with the lead-up to Mother's Day 2010.

And so, before I go, I want to remind you about the original Mother's Day in the United States. In 1870, Julia Ward Howe (the author of the lyrics to the "Battle Hymn of the Republic") issued a Mother's Day Proclamation. It called for "all women who have hearts" to rise up to end war and promote "the great and general interests of peace."

Mom, please rise up. It is time.

Love,
Jane

Letter From Neil

Dear mom, I love you very much. You have been the shining light of inspiration in my life that continues to brighten with the years. From teaching me math and social studies at home, to bringing me legos, hammers and nails to build all the creative things I could imagine. You have always been able to provide me with the tools and talents to create my dreams. And through my growing appreciation and love for you, I have come to share my own passions and ideas back to inspire and empower you as well. In my life, you have seen me grow and mature. In the past few years, I cherish our open dialog and discussions every moment we have together. My most recent life-stretch as you know, took me to Copenhagen as a member of the UN Climate Discussions. In this space, I found myself growing in ways I had not anticipated. Meeting and hearing from other people from all walks of life, age, and background, sharing their concerns, their issues, hopes and dreams I was halted in my own thoughts and actions. We so often hear of people in the US, aspiring to riches and fame, and there, people spoke of dreams we take for granted; food, security, warmth, and family. It made me realize the true crux we are in as we attempt to stretch our planet's blanket over all 7 billion of us that walk this home we call earth. In that space and state of mind, I was able to see myself as a global citizen and I was not happy with what I saw. I saw our petty disputes and debates, so selfish and weak. I heard a cry for help from over half the world's citizens. I felt waves of fear and anxiety, rooting all decisions in our global past. And as I stood in this space, with thoughts of despair, I also knew, deep down, that the barriers holding us back from rising to this challenge of being the stewards of our family, communities and earth, was really only figments of our relations to the challenge. Those we selected to lead us were failing, both in believing in our capacity as humans and in our ability to solve very difficult situations together. They were slowly subscribing us to a short walk on this earth. Standing there, I knew we were better than this. So I began to grow that seed of faith, recalling that in my life and yours, I have seen what can be done when we put our mind to a task. I remembered how blessed I was. How you have given me the greatest gift of life, and atop that, a love for life that burns bright. In everything you have done, from sending Kira and I to college, to instilling a sense of confidence in us, I was and am eternally grateful. In my growing faith and visions of what I want in my life, our family, and the world community, I am asking you to take your audacity for life and share with those who surround you everyday about the need to stabilize our climate and become the true care givers of our fellow humans, just as we would have them care for us. A lesson I have carried with me throughout life from scripture is, the world will know us, not by our knowledge or worldly possessions, but by our fruits of our labor. So I ask you, do what you do best and sow the seeds of what we need to accomplish as a nation of people on this beautiful blue ball. I love you lots, Neil