Author: R J Adams

In central Illinois, today is the first day of Spring. Now, before you grow confused and rush to check the calendar, let me explain that I don’t mean it’s the first calendar day of Spring. It’s only Spring according to the weather outside.

You know what I mean. After months of bone-numbing cold interspersed with ice storms, blizzards – and those weirdly irritating things the weathermen call “Canadian clippers” that can cause your nose and ears to drop off in an inkling – you wake up one morning to find the sun’s warmth gently caressing your face through the glass; the needle on the outdoor thermometer, frozen for months in the ‘fifty degrees below absolute’ position has miraculously sprung up overnight to the balmy sixty degree mark, and a quick glance out the window reveals wildlife everywhere hard at it ravishing each other while simultaneously choking on mouthfuls of nest-building material.

Today is the first day of Spring in central Illinois.

For most of my sixty years on this planet, today was when it all began again. To a young foal, born in the depths of winter and struggling to survive, the first touch of spring sunshine breathes life and energy; it’s warmth, the touch of a magic wand casting out winter weakness and replacing it with the verve of life itself.

On me, however, for the last four years, that magic wand has cast only the spell of depression and heartache.

In the gentler, milder climate of my native home, the first Spring day is a herald of bounteous growth and balmy summers, eventually to be followed by the glorious tints and mellow fruitfulness of autumn. Nine wonderful months of a yearly cycle that saw me seldom settled indoors before eleven in the evening, on all but those most inclement of warm, rainy days so necessary to the freshness and unique greenery of my homeland.

Five years ago I moved to central Illinois to be with the woman I loved. It was mid-September, still hot and humid, but with the promise of cooler, Fall weather on the way. It snowed on Christmas Eve and presented me with my first white Christmas since childhood. Through the ongoing bitter cold of those early months of 2003 I looked out on the “yard” of our new home, planning and planting in my mind’s eye the garden that would blossom into loveliness over the coming summer. By that ‘first day of Spring’, half our kitchen floor was awash with seed trays sprouting infant annuals and perennials to grace the borders, once dug out and suitably fertilized.

That task kept me occupied most of the Spring, along with re-staining the deck and laying new irrigation hoses. By May, the garden was prepared and planted with new shrubs and perennials, interspersed with young annual plants to flower and fill out the sparse areas till more permanent residents became established.

It was a blow when the first violent storm smashed everything to the ground. Sad but not daunted, for I knew Mother Nature requires no convalescence and would quickly repair the damage, the mess was cleared; broken young boughs mended. Before long, it was as if the storm had never been.

The next one did even more damage, and it became obvious some plants could never survive this oft-repeated onslaught. The dead were mourned, and replaced with perhaps less glamorous but more robust specimens.

In the weeks following that “first Spring day” I was spent lots of time outdoors. The work of creating a new garden from scratch was arduous, yet enjoyable, but by the middle of May I was beginning to notice the heat. Used to the cool mountain air of Wales, continually swept by fresh breezes from the sea, I began to discover the languid heat and oppressive humidity of my new home far from the ocean, somewhat overbearing. The time I could spend outdoors became less and less. After a couple of occasions when I was forced to take to my bed after spending too long in the sun, it soon became obvious that the work entailed in maintaining my garden was impossible to achieve. By mid-June, I was only able to work in the early morning and late evening, and often only for a short while. The air was always heavy and oppressive. My lungs refused to adapt and it was hard to breathe. Tasks that would normally prove no chore became wearisome. Meanwhile the weeds grew faster than it was possible for me to clear them in the short time I could spend outside.

Then, the mosquitoes arrived.

Welsh mosquitoes are relatively benign creatures. An occasional bite only lasts a day or two and is no more than a minor irritation. Illinois mosquitoes are something else. Within days my body became a mass of itching, suppurating sores, so painful I would be unable to sleep. Those born in this country, while not immune to the bite, are at least protected to some degree by lifelong exposure. For the Illinois mosquito, British blood is the elixir of life, and they sought me in their droves. A Mosquito Magnet worked well. According to the manufacturer, one inch of dead mosquitoes in the net was the equivalent of 10,000 bodies. If so, our device – nicknamed “Arnold” after the Exterminator – was responsible for 40,000 of the brutes in the first three weeks.

It made no impression on the numbers seeking out my blood vessels. While Arnold hissed quietly away in the garden, I was forced to sweat in the not-very-balmy air-conditioned, eighty-degree house, and watch the pernicious weeds strangling my beloved plants, unable to lift a finger to prevent it.

By late August, the bowling greens that my lawns had been stood two feet high; the annuals – and most of the perennials – long since given in to the native species that engulfed them, and any more than two or three minutes outdoors meant serious consequences for this writer.

Eventually, in late September the heat gave way to the milder air of Fall, and I was once again able to venture outside. Lawns were cut, an attempt was made to clear the weeds from borders, and Arnold was packed away for the winter.

Fall is a beautiful season in central Illinois. Tree colors are superb, and the air is fresh and pleasant – on the days that ADM pollution, or the stench from the sewage works a mile away, is blowing in the opposite direction. But a few brief weeks can never recoup the loss of nine months, when extreme weather forces this outdoorsman to remain inprisoned.

Four years on, the garden has reverted to a “yard”. The kitchen floor has remained bereft of seed trays since those first Spring days of 2003; days replete with empty promise.

And so today, the first day of Spring 2007, holds no joy; no verve for life; no herald of glorious growth and balmy summers. For this one Illinois habitant, at least, it may just as well remain winter.

Filed under: Home sweet home

The European Union today announced it had reached a binding agreement on targets for the reduction of greenhouse gas emissions. The agreement is to cut emissions by 20% below 1990 levels, by 2020.

Further, the agreement binds member states to boost the use of renewable energy sources, such as solar and wind power, by 20% over the same period.

These figures, though a positive move, are regarded by climate experts as insufficient to reverse the effects of climate change, or stabilize the environment, even if other countries were to agree similar measures. All experts – with the possible exception of a few ‘fringe’ nutcases, sufficiently rewarded by big business for saying what their employer’s demand – agree that imposing tighter controls on individuals will never achieve the necessary reductions to stabilize the atmosphere. The way forward is to force industry – the real polluters – to stop putting profits before pollution and clean up their acts.

The true irony is that most of the major polluters will eventually cease to exist unless they take action now. The consequence of not doing so hardly bears comment. Just for the record, though, let’s spell it out. A rise of only six degrees in the earth’s temperature means we, as a species, will be wiped out – along with most other mammals on the planet. The latest IPCC report this year estimates rises of 3.2 to 7.1 degrees, and those figures are considered by many experts to be conservative.

Europe has begun to move in the right direction, though ominously slowly. Is America following suit?

The Bush White House refused to publish the latest United Nation’s report on climate change. It sat on a shelf for twelve months, gathering dust. Finally, this month it has been revealed to the world, and it shows that not only is America failing to reduce greenhouse gases, but it intends to carry on increasing these toxic emissions over the next decade – by 11%.

Justification for the continuing rise is based on the ratio of emissions to economy growth. Using figures from 1990, the percentage output of emissions has risen more slowly than the economy. In fact, since 1990 the economy has grown three times faster than pollution. Unfortunately for mankind, the planet cares little how the America economy is faring, but Mister Myran Ebell, a spokesman for the polluters, says America is doing “……..good, and it’s better than the European Union’s performance.”

Once again, the destructive edge of American competitiveness rears its ugly head. “We are outperforming others, so everything is all right.”

It might be, Mister Ebell, if you weren’t lying through your teeth. It’s not “good”, and while the EU’s efforts so far have not been “good” either, let me remind you that your country discharges 25% of the total pollutants causing this problem, and your idea means we all have to wait for America to slide into catastrophic recession before you decide things are not quite as “good” after all.

A catastrophic recession is exactly what will occur eventually, if Mister Ebell and his pals are allowed to continue poisoning the citizens, not only of this country, but the whole world.

If America were to take the lead in cleaning up its act, rein in the self-centered cash monkeys and force big business to become environmentally friendly, it could then legitimately pressurize the new economies of India and China to do the same. As it is, their attitude is, “You set the example, first.”

By adopting the stance of the ostrich, both the American government and its sidekick, big business, are clearly displaying their lack of responsibility towards the care and welfare of American citizens. Their only concern is in the continued flow of personal wealth and power.

How long will the American people continue to sit on their butts with their heads in the sand and allow this catastrophic situation to continue?

Will they still be in that position when the temperature finally rises another six degrees? If so, that will likely be the stance they will keep for eternity.

Filed under: The end

Last night’s NBC Nightly News, in the form of their “man in Baghdad” Brian Williams, struggled valiantly yet again to portray an imminent American victory in the country. Not easy, amid the IED’s, mortars, and small arms fire ever present in the background.

Brian did his best, even hand-selecting a small group of patriotic marines prepared to say on camera that they really wanted to “stay and finish the job”. Though one did finally admit she was off home on Thursday – even though she’d much rather remain in Baghdad.

The camera shot exposing five hundred and seventy-two uniformed arms desperately waving in the background to the cries of, “Let her stay – I’ll go in her place!” was, of course, edited out of the final cut.

There is sad news to report concerning a brand new segment only begun this week, but now looking like it may have to be axed altogether. Although no mention was made of it in last night’s bulletin, “What It Takes To Be Happy” seems to have vanished from our screens. After a promising start on Monday, Tuesday’s offering could only resort to a bunch of nuns enjoying a “Happy Moment”, and unfortunately last night’s was slashed altogether.

It seems there’s not enough happy people in America to keep the segment running. I wonder why not?

Instead of the “Happy Moment”, a swift look at the credit card companies ensued – not a pretty sight – with Congress getting upset that they were charging us too much interest.

Have they only just noticed?

On their side, the companies concerned say they have a right to charge excessively, as they tell their customers in advance. NBC took this “small print” to Harvard Business School to be interpreted, but none of the students there could understand it, which is hardly surprising given that HBS was where George W Bush passed his exams.

While hardly making up for the loss of the “Happy Moment”, this was at least an issue that all but the wealthiest Americans could agree with, and hug over.

A quick visit to the land of the Hualapai Indian tribe was next on NBC’s agenda. The tribe have decided to make some money from building a monstrous, horseshoe-shaped, walkway out over the Grand Canyon. Certain Colorado citizens are up in arms over the issue, describing it as an environmental eyesore. The Hualapai are dog-poor. Among the tribe unemployment runs at 50%. How they got the money to build this thing is a mystery, and it begs the question: are they being ripped off again Abram’s style?

It’s good that the Hualapai are using their initiative to improve their lot in life, but rather a pity that they were allowed to sink to such abject poverty in the first place, given they were the first ones to ever inhabit this land of the American Dream.

Brian Williams managed to dodge the bullets long enough for a final segment from Iraq before the program concluded, and spent a few moments explaining how the Humvee had improved since first they drove triumphantly into Baghdad in 2003.

Remember that?

It seems the lads have been busy in their spare time, reinforcing the armor plate, adding a protective gun-turret, and generally making the Humvee a bit safer than the tinplate version that cost so many American lives during the first three years of the war.

Which is definitely a good thing. Although, rather like the Hualapai tribe of Colorado, it’s a great pity they were allowed to remain so poor for so long.

Filed under: Comic book journalism