From an early age, I had the good luck to be influenced in this direction. The creed underlying their brand of naturalist could best be summed up in a statement by John Muir: "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe." The inference is that we must develop a macroscopic overview of life in order to both understand and
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Fortunately for me, my father and his dad were also professional naturalists who gave me a curiosity about beetles, lizards, and herring gulls that would eventually cause me to pause when I considered, from a more in-depth perspective, the spending habits of my fellow Americans. But they came from the North American middle class that by default perpetuated those values at a time when our victorious nation was gearing up for a bout with untrammeled prosperity. Of course, my liberal parents did not consciously raise me to be a bigot, a greedy consumer, a warmonger, or a fanatical environmental parasite. The socioeconomics of such an equality would be a great blessing for the "natural" world. The only way to avoid war is for people to treat each other as equals. War (including cold war), and the relentless preparation for it, was a major foundation of the ecoapocalypse that has been fashioned during my lifetime. He swiveled instantly and knocked me across the room, which was a wakeup call of sorts.
Shortly thereafter IĬaught my dad by surprise, firing a jolly round of caps behind his back when he least expected the attack. They felt sorry for me because I was laid up with the mumps. On Easter Day 1947, my parents finally relented and gave me the desired six-shooter. My father, the veteran, was so gun-shy that I was forbidden to own a cap pistol, even though my heroes in 19 were among America's favorite gunslingers: Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, and Hopalong Cassidy. That climax consumerism eventually segued directly into the ecodisaster facing us today. When he returned from overseas he was married again, and the three of us set about to construct a civilian life in a postwar boom era that would grow fat on the Marshall Plan and other reconstruction juggernauts aiding the conquered nations. During those five years I lost my French mother, Monique Le Braz, to endocarditis (in 1942) and my father temporarily to the Pacific campaign, where he spent time in the Solomon Islands, Okinawa, then China. To emphasize the point, my nation incinerated the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki with atomic weapons. By the time of my fifth birthday the planet was a graveyard and an environmental disaster. Yet during the first five years of my life, which began on July 23, 1940, close to sixty million people were murdered worldwide, and the manufacturing capacity of much of the "civilized" world was bombed until the gears ceased to mesh, even the grandest of wheels stopped turning, and most of the cities that housed the apparatus lay in rubble. Movement that these are the worst of times. Today I am told repeatedly by shrill voices on the "lunatic fringe" of the media and the environmental All life on earth is natural, no exceptions. When I say "environmental" I mean human community as well as everything else.
A majority of us blithely accepts the inequalities that define the system, even though, in our more reflective moments, we understand that our attitudes and our lifestyles are driving the system toward an environmental apocalypse increasingly ordained as all the elements of our consumptive folly merge into a single overriding catastrophe. But our economic system is' predicated on ruthless competition that trains most everybody, including writers, to be relatively heartless predators. We are raised in a so-called democracy v^rhose Declaration of Independence informs us that all men are created equal. It's a mystery to me hov^ anybody among us develops a social conscience.
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