It's the little things.

Posted by Lori Fagerholm

October 31, 2006

My blog is late this week—technically, this should’ve been last week’s post. I’ve known what I wanted to write about all along, but couldn’t come up with a satisfying conclusion. I had a question I wanted to pose, but I realized I didn’t know how to answer it myself. The solution came to me suddenly, while I was fixing myself a cup of tea Sunday afternoon. More on that in a bit.

Living in the San Francisco Bay Area, it’s easy to take for granted the fact that I live in a “blue” state. Wherever I go, whomever I talk to, I find my fellow citizens mostly in agreement about conservation issues. But for the citizens of California’s Fourth Congressional District, the experience must be quite different. Stretching from Placer and El Dorado Counties up to the Oregon border, the Fourth is arguably California’s most conservative district. As an article in last week's San Francisco Chronicle points out, Democratic candidate Charlie Brown (despite the potential nostalgic appeal of his name) has little chance of beating eight-term Representative John Doolittle in this congressional race. What does this mean for the Sierra?

When I ask this question, I’m seeking more than just the usual political and ideological answers. This is not because politics don’t matter—just the opposite is true; legislation, of course, affects almost every aspect of our daily lives. But I’m not helping to save the Sierra by vilifying conservative voters or accentuating the chasms of belief between Blues and Reds. It disheartens me to find myself considering my fellow human beings as enemies in any sense. In fact, it makes me downright sad. So, here today, I’m not going to do that.

There are basic values I think most of us hold. Everyone wants water clean enough to drink, air clear enough to breathe, and nutritious food, the production of which dirties said air and water as little as possible. We want these things for ourselves, for the generation we’re raising, and for the generations to come. We want to protect these vital resources and still feel free to live our lives the way we see fit. Realizing we have these values in common makes the chasm between ideological groups seem just a little less wide.

Of course, there’s still a lot we don’t have in common. But here again, as passionate as I can get about urban sprawl, development, agribusiness, the proposed Auburn dam—issues on which I must respectfully disagree with Rep. Doolittle—I’m forced to admit that adversity is not the answer. And I feel that if I could only share my joy in the scent of the evergreens on my family’s land, the view of open hillside out my grandmother’s window, the crunch of leaves beneath my feet on the hiking trails, more residents of the Sierra would fall in love with nature and feel moved to protect this land.

But how to convey this strong but delicate joy? Staring at the white space on the page beneath this question is what kept me from posting my blog on time. The truth was, I had no ideas. Enter the Sunday afternoon cup of tea. As I was removing the tea bags, carefully separating the paper tabs to be recycled and the strings to save for art projects, it hit me. Almost every part of the tea bag can be recycled—the tea itself can go into the compost bin, the string saved for future use, the paper put out with the cans and bottles. It’s a small act, but it’s one I do for my love of the planet, and it’s quick, easy, and personal. What I want all my Sierra neighbors to do is to go outside and touch a tree. I know, it may sound silly, but I’m serious. Touch a leaf. Look closer; notice the slightly raised veins on the leaf and touch them, too. Small, tactile acts, either to commune with nature or to help conserve it, make the environment a personal thing. It’s a concept even my grumpy, Republican uncle can get behind: ownership. I know it’s not a perfect plan. Like what to do with that little staple in the tea bag, there are questions I know I still can’t answer.

It’s just an idea. But ideas are a place to start. So, now it’s your turn: what the heck do I do with that little staple?