The smell of late autumn was in the air as I walked from the meeting room at the library to my car. I could smell the wood smoke from the stoves in the neighboring houses and a fine mist softened the sharp edges of the day.
In spite of the blaze of color all around me, the sensuous feel of the evening and the fact that I was looking forward to seeing my four-month-old son, Lance, my mind was tempestuous.
We arrived with the impression that we would be brainstorming about getting industrial hemp more widely used as a renewable resource. Even the government knew that it doesn't make people high, it doesn't have enough THC in it.1 But faced with the reality that the major powers that be are against renewable resources in this way, from a lawyer who was supposed to be working on our side, was like a slap in the face.
I thought about all of the hours I'd devoted to the cause of renewable resources, seeing the need, the desperate need of our planet for our help. I thought of all the times I had enjoyed the splendor of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the sheer force of Nature with a tenuous balance that is being tipped out of kilter. I have fought for what I have thought is right; but what do I know, I'm just another 20 year old!
And now, here is Lance, needing his diaper changed as I think about this meeting gone wrong and what it could implicate. I reach for a fresh cloth diaper, feeling its softness in my hands as I look at my little son. His eyes meet mine and I wonder what he will be like when he is my age. ...