The Polar Bears

I'm worried.

This is actually a common feeling for me. I get tense and concerned about things that have not actually happened. Right now, I am worried about the current state of our environment. I am worried that our world will look very different in 2050, which isn't too many years off.

A week ago I picked up a National Geographic that declared it contained a "Special Report". Let's start there. The words "special" and "report," combined together cause my breathing to become irregular. I start to feel like I need an inhaler. It's the same feeling I get while I am watching an episode of a Law and Order: SVU. I am scared and I feel helpless knowing that I can in no way change the outcome of the story--even if I really, really wish it.

I started to read this "Special Report," feeling tense and wondering if my throat has always been this dry. It starts out with an ominous, "It's here." I can only guess they are referring to the arrival of the new spring line-up of melting ice caps, changing weather patterns, and the end of civilization as we know it. Of course they are. I continue on. My thought process leads me to believe that if I read a bit further, maybe the writer will have some nicer things to say. Maybe the writer will know that it's me reading this article and that I am afraid. Maybe he'll write in a "happily ever after" ending for me. I do so wish it.

But, that's not what happens. The writer tells me that "warming has hit polar species the hardest," and that "we cannot restore their habitat." He says that, polar bears are having a hard time getting enough to eat, because their environment has changed. He describes them as emaciated. Then he introduces Professor Bob Steneck. He quotes Steneck as saying, "It's a modern Dr. Strangelove moment when you see the Artic melting at record levels and the Russians planting their flag on the seafloor so they can extract more oil."

I stop reading. I no longer want this writer, Joel K. Bourne, Jr., to tell me any more. I am sad and worried and I want it to stop. But, it doesn't. My thoughts keep revolving around what I have read. I have this scene in my head of a man dressed in a suit, running his flag to the point where land meets ice. I see him plant his flag and it transform into a oil refinery. Then the bears, from their icy vantage point, look over at the black smoke issuing from the the man-made fortress, and decide their time is over. I watch them walk away and vanish.

I am worried.