All Posts for September 2017

World Wildlife Fund: Save Our Seas

Thursday, September 28th, 2017
Ask your Member of Congress to Save Our Seas

Ocean trash

Right now, an important piece of legislation is in the House of Representatives and we need your help to make sure your Member of Congress knows about it.

The Save Our Seas Act was recently introduced and it could mean less trash in the ocean, more research on how trash affects marine life, and a focus on ending the marine debris crisis.

From the smallest plankton to the biggest whales, ocean trash affects all marine life. Sea turtles, for instance, often confuse plastic bags for food, while dolphins and other marine mammals can become entangled in old fishing gear.

The problem is growing increasingly worse. And, our production of waste is so high that if we don’t do something now there could be a pound of plastic for every three pounds of fish in the ocean within the next decade. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Recently, the Senate passed the Save Our Seas Act in a heartening display of bipartisan unity. This was a major win for our oceans. Now we need the House to do the same.

Take action: Ask your member of Congress to co-sponsor the Save Our Seas Act.

With an endorsement from your member of Congress, we can ensure that stopping the onslaught of trash and plastic entering our ocean is a priority.

Thanks in advance for your support,

Sara Thomas

Sara Thomas
Director, Activism and Outreach
World Wildlife Fund

Mankind’s Folly by Mary Lou Meyers

Monday, September 25th, 2017
Note: My classmate and “resident poet” sent me this poem about the hurricanes that seems appropriate to post during the 10 Days of Awe on the Jewish New Year calendar. Mother Nature can be beautiful and she can also unleash her awesome wrath at any time.
 
To pit yourself against the ocean
blinded by the Waves of Light, 
saving the groundwork of your devotion
planting seagrass on dunes to ensure they last
at least long enough to soak up the sand.
But the Underside, the treachery, the Whirlwind,
a mesmerizing Eye, unharnessed natural forces
uprooting palm trees and houses at Sugar Loaf Key.
When all your words are undone and flattened
against your tongue, mute with the awe of it;
the heroics of wind going into unchartered wilderness
while Irma moves by with excess pride
targeting the sea wall of your notions to preserve the earth,
the huff and puff of man-made stuff
from the penetrating increments of surf.
Right before your eyes, the storm surge arrives:
draining an estuary, sucking the St. John’s River dry
as if a drain appeared out of the sky;
lost in the Space Mountain of boarded-up dreams
depriving you even of insight to defy;
pushing water till it comes back with alacrity at High Tide;
an old woman riding it out in a bathtub between lightning strikes.
Shift the blame from In God we trust, the coin
outstretched in the hand of a Homeless Man
to untamed Seas while a tornado levels the playing fields.
Anchors Away for boats, only skeletal houses remain.
There is no safety latch, no stalling tactics,
little to see except the expanse of inland sea
and the capricious wind’s velocity
making short shrift of the landscape’s Rules
turning it all into catch as can a barracuda in a swimming pool;
glittering rainbow Shells dead in the water;
even the abrasive etches at the very last gasp
into soft inspiring precious glass
to see clearly Mankind’s Folly at the last.
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