Cranberry Portage has been evacuated as a wildfire closes in on the tiny community. My paternal grandmother and her partner Val lived in Cranberry Portage for as long as I knew them; it lies just a few kilometers south of Flin Flon, my birthplace.
Cranberry Portage is barely a blip on the highway, home to just a handful of businesses and some dozens of homes; it's a peaceful, quiet, lovely corner of northern Manitoba. I hope it survives this latest crisis.
Here's a neat idea: Steven Soderbergh has released Command Z, a series of interconnected shorts about time travelling to fight climate change. To watch, you pay 8 bucks, all of which goes to support Children's Aid and the Boston University Center for Antiracist Research.
I've just finished the series, and while it's not peak Soderbergh, its heart is in the right place and there are some good laughs and thoughtful commentary on our present catastrophe. Plus, giving 8 bucks to charity to see what amounts to a feature-length film is a way better deal than most moviegoing opportunities. Three out of five stars, with a bonus half-star for trying to change the world for the better.
Replay, Ken Grimwood's 1986 novel, keeps crossing my mind even a couple of decades after I first read it in the early 2000s. The premise is simple but utterly fascinating in its possibilities and limitations: Journalist Jeff Winston dies of a heart attack at age 42 in 1988, but awakens with all his memories back in his 18-year-old body while starting university in 1963. He lives his life with the tremendous advantage of his experiences and knowledge of the next 25 years to come, but no matter what, he dies at age 42 and starts the cycle all over again, with each "replay" growing slightly shorter.
Winston occupies his replays in various ways. He finds a different love, he gets rich, he goes public with his knowledge of the future and winds up in the custody of the US government, all the while trying to understand why he's in this predicament and what it all means.
A Replay with a Difference
I think anyone who reads this book has wondered what they would do in Jeff's situation. I've played out the scenario several different ways, but lately my hypothetical goal has changed, as have my parameters for my replay cycle.
Imagine if whatever force of nature or diving being was behind the replays wasn't getting what it desired out of the cycles. Perhaps it was missing something fundamental. So he/she/it decides, or evolves, a different replay methodology.
After my first death, I get a choice. Instinctively, I know that I'm going to be reborn in my own body at a younger age, but I have a fraction of time to choose the exact date.
I choose April 5, 1976, the day after my brother Sean is born. I choose this death for two reasons: First, because my knowledge of the future and my inability to remember precisely what I was doing when I was seven years old mean that I might do or say something before my brother's birth that might affect his conception, delaying it or advancing it by the few crucial hours or days that would mean I'd likely wind up with an entirely different younger sibling. Second, because in a sudden explosion of near-death hubris, I decide I want to use my replay to save the world from climate change - and having the knowledge and experience of a, say, 60- to 80-year old man housed in the body of a seven year old would be startling enough to attract the attention of adults with enough influence to potentially do something about my warnings of future catastrophe.
In this scenario, the later I die the first time, the better, because I can describe the worst effects of climate change to the people of the 1970s. But even if I died now (um, please no), I think I still have enough knowledge to convince the powers-that-be that the time to act is their "now."
Strategy: Minimize Harm to My Circles, Maximize Chances to Halt Climate Change
My first concern would be to avoid traumatizing my parents, my new little brother, my friends and teachers at school, and my extended family, at least to the extent possible. I'm not a good enough actor to play myself at seven years old, but I might be able hide the sudden disappearance of the child that I was by growing even more introverted and thoughtful than I was.
I'd do my best to act like the kid I remembered being in Leaf Rapids: I'd toboggan in the winter, play with action figures, read voraciously, play cops and robbers, watch Star Trek on CBC, one of two English television channels we had up there. But I'd also be spending (even more) time at the library. And I'd be writing letters.
The First Outreach
First, I'd try Dr. Carl Sagan. Going strictly my memory, I believe that in 1976 he'd probably be working on either the Viking (or was it Mariner?) Mars lander and the Voyager 1 and 2 probes. My first letter might go something like this:
"Dear Dr. Sagan,
"My name is Earl J. Woods. I'm a great admirer of your work and your writing. As a scientist, you know that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. I have an extraordinary story to tell you, and I'm hoping we can talk about it. But first, I have to provide you with some extraordinary evidence, evidence that might take some months or years to come to light.
"Sometime in 1980, you will write and star in a television series called Cosmos, based on your book of the same name. The show will air on PBS, and in it you'll tie human history and civilization to astronomy, astrophysics, and the great forces of nature that shape our evolution and possibly our destiny. The show will feature music by Vangelis; the first episode will be named "Heaven and Hell," which is also the name of one of the pieces of music by Vangelis composed for the show. The show will be hailed as a major work of education, and you'll become famous for your intonation of "billions and billions." (I don't remember if you actually said/will say this in the show, but it becomes an enduring meme.)
"Voyager 1 and 2 will not only meet but greatly exceed their mission parameters. Or was it the Pioneer probes you worked/will work on? I don't remember the specifics, but rest assured Pioneer was also a great success.
"In the election of 1980, Ronald Reagan will defeat Jimmy Carter. The Iran Hostage Crisis will end shortly before or after Reagan's inauguration. There will be an assassination attempt on Reagan in 1980 or 1981; the would-be assassin will be John Hinkley, who had an unhealthy obsession with Jodie Foster, the young actress from Martin Scorsese's film Taxi Driver.
"Star Wars by George Lucas will be the highest-grossing film of all time in the summer of 1977, though Gone with the Wind will remain the true champion when adjusted for inflation.
"Director Alfred Hitchcock will die in 1980.
"A few years after writing Cosmos, you'll write Comet with your partner Ann Druyan.
"In 1983, the Soviets will shoot down Korean Airlines Flight 007 over, I believe, the Kamchatka peninsula. This action will precipitate a massive diplomatic crisis and is seen as one of the most dangerous events of the Cold War."
"Conservative Joe Clark will become Prime Minister of Canada for a few months in 1979-1980, leading a minority government. His government will lose a vote of confidence and Pierre Trudeau will return from 'a walk in the snow' and lead the Liberals back to power in 1980.
"Dr. Sagan, by now you will think that I'm some kind of madman, or perhaps a stalker who's somehow discovered things you thought private, like your future plans. I'm hoping that my writing this letter will not cause the events I remember to unfold differently. My only hope of your belief is that at least a few of the events I've predicted come true.
"I'm writing to you because I want to share some very important future events with you. I believe you're one of a small percentage of people in the world who understand the existential threats our civilization faces. Currently I believe you're most concerned about nuclear weapons. Take some solace in knowing that in my experience, they have never been used as weapons of war since 1945.
"The threat humanity faces is global warming caused by burning of fossil fuels. By 2022, scientists expect that the world could warm up by another 2.5 degrees Celsius or even higher by the year 2050. In my future, the impacts of climate change are already being felt in the form of more intense and more frequent natural disasters such as wildfires, hurricanes, flooding, drought, and so on. The world's glaciers are rapidly melting, and government and industry have failed to take the actions necessary to prevent the worst from happening.
"I am not a scientist. I'm just a reasonably well-read layman. If I can prove my knowledge of future events to you and other influential people, there's a chance that my warnings about climate change could cause human beings to act more decisively and far earlier than they have in my time, which by now you'll have surmised is the early 21st century.
"If and when you meet me, you'll probably be shocked by my appearance. But that's a problem for another time. For now, I can only hope that you'll be curious enough to reach out and perhaps conduct some scientific tests to determine if I'm telling the truth or if I'm just another crafty faker.
"I'll continue to try and remember events of the late 1970s before they happen in an effort to convince you faster. I'll write more letters as I gather my thoughts; this experience is still very new to me, and very difficult to navigate.
"I've enclosed my phone number and mailing address just in case you threw away the envelope. How I wish I had e-mail or a cell phone to text you, but those things won't be invented for decades. Would you believe there's more computing power in my phone than there is in your most sophisticated equipment of today - probably by a factor of thousands? I'll tell you about it sometime.
"I hope to hear from you. Thank you for showing how science is a candle in the dark. You were and are an inspiration.
"Regards,
Earl J. Woods"
Backup Plans
If Sagan failed to respond, I'd probably start writing similar letters to science fiction writers and the campaigns of national US and Canadian politicians. George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry might be good bets; I know enough about the production history of their creative efforts to boggle them. They don't have the benefit of 50 years of behind-the-scenes books and documentaries.
Securing My Own Future
Somehow, I'd convince our family doctor to check my parents regularly for specific health issues I know they'll develop later in life. I'll be nicer to my brother and more forgiving and less clueless with people my age. I'd be tempted to direct my parents to invest a little money in sure stock hits, but boy, would I be wary lest I create enough of a butterfly effect to change the course of the future and make my predictions less and less accurate and therefore less convincing to the people in charge.
I'd certainly avoid getting addicted to Coke, and I'd work harder in university. I'd pursue writing jobs more aggressively and start that career earlier, given my decades of subjective experience. I'd stay in shape; keeping weight off is a heck of a lot easier if you don't get fat in the first place.
Success or Failure?
Even if my warnings were heeded, would industry and governments take action that was bold enough and early enough to save civilization? I have no idea now, and I'd have no idea as I aged from seven up. I might get an inkling by the 2020s; if things aren't as bad in that decade the second or third or fourth time around, I'd know my strategy was paying off. Maybe, as in the book, I'd survive my destined death once civilization was safe, and maybe I'd get enough extra years of life to enjoy the fruits of my efforts.
It's a nice fantasy. How terrible that I need it.
Number one, I hope we can arrange a really nice birthday celebration for Mom's 80th this summer. Number two, which, of course, has a large impact on number one, I hope we bring the COVID-19 pandemic under control. Number three, I'd love to hear some more good news in general, some hope that civilization can still save itself.
Go big or go home, right?
The Great Western Canadian Heat Wave of 2021 hit me hard last night, and the effects have lasted all Canada Day. Normally this would not be a big deal, except that I was really looking forward to today because it would have been the first social gathering Sylvia and I have attended since before the COVID-19 pandemic hit; and for that matter, the first time in years that we had decent plans for Canada Day.
So I guess I'm feeling a bit out of sorts. And now I feel guilty, because hundreds of people in British Columbia are dead thanks to the heat wave, and there are probably more casualties around the world that I haven't heard of yet.
And it scares me that this could be the new normal.
I'm glad that my friends were able to get together, though, and there will be other gatherings.
Ugh, my privilege is leaking.
JULY 4 UPDATE
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| Art by KC Green, 2013 |
Welcome to the coolest summer of the rest of your life. Edmonton is expected to enjoy (to varying degrees, pun intended) temperatures of 30 degrees Celsius and above every day this week, more +30 highs in just a few days than the region has experienced collectively in the last five years. Of course, weather is not climate and even outlier events like these cannot be definitively linked to global warming, but the problem is...when are extreme weather events like this no longer outliers, but the new normal?
When nuclear holocaust was humanity's greatest fear, a handful of key films explored what effect a nuclear war might have on civilization. Dramatic pictures such as Threads and The Day After and documentaries like If You Love This Planet painted pictures so unbelievably grim that some people my age still shudder with dismay at the memories. It's hard to say how much films like these pressured the world's peoples into making nuclear arms less acceptable and therefore led to the nuclear arms reductions of the 1990s, but there was at the very least some subconscious impact on the public consciousness.
The movies I mention above were released in the early 1980s, one of the heights of the Cold War, a time when nuclear war seemed to some not only possible, but perhaps inevitable.
Why then, I wonder, has there not been a single big-budget, mainstream drama about the end of the world due to climate change? I'm not talking about farcical disaster films, but serious dramas that truly capture the existential threat.
I suspect that one reason is the different natures of the catastrophes. Nuclear war happens suddenly, with worldwide devastation wrought in mere minutes. Climate change is, in human terms, more of a slow-motion crisis. Plus, it's easy to understand the immediate threat of big bombs; the threat of drought, crop failure, sea level rise, and a rising number of extreme weather events feels less like a disaster and more like something that might happen, sometime after I'm dead, in places far away from me.
I won't be surprised when someone makes this movie, though; a sprawling epic told across decades, from the days in the mid-20th century when the danger was first recognized to the end of days when the world's societal and economic systems can no longer cope with the increasing rate of change and we collapse together into barbarism.
I hope whoever it is makes it soon, though, because the general public and world's movers and shakers need the emotional gut punch of a Day After or Threads to push us back on track. It may already be too late, of course, but one can hope otherwise.
Last Thursday I experienced a moment of something close to despair. I stayed up far too late; I didn't come to bed until midnight, even though I had to get up at six to get ready for work.
When Sylvia asked why I was up, the answer congealed immediately, and I spat it out in surprise:
"I don't want to go to bed because waking up will bring doomsday another step closer."
In the moment, I believed it. Generally I'm pretty good at seeing the abundance of good in the world, but the mounting evidence that we won't act quickly enough to prevent civilization from being destroyed by climate change, the world's democracies sleepwalking into fascism, the unsustainable gap between the rich and poor, mass extinctions, political polarization, and the rejection of science and expertise by so many...well, some nights it feels like the bad's catching up, to put one of my favourite Gowan songs in reverse.
I felt better the next day, and I feel better now, even though nothing has changed. Except I remembered I still believe there's a chance civilization will pull through in the end, and that our better natures will prevail.
