I spend a fair chunk of time in Los Angeles, and after about ten days of warmth and unbroken clear skies, you start to yearn for a bit of good old British gloom and rain!
I’d like to see Alaska or cross the Atlantic. My father-in-law spent some years crewing luxury yachts from port to port for their owners. He says the starlit skies over the Atlantic are extraordinary because there is no light pollution. I like the thought of seeing those stars, G&T in hand.
We can continue to try and clean up the gutters all over the world and spend all of our resources looking at just the dirty spots and trying to make them clean. Or we can lift our eyes up and look into the skies and move forward in an evolutionary way.
Imagine if Congress always put the interests of polluters ahead of the health of our families. Our rivers and lakes would be choked with sewage. Acid rain would pour down from smog-filled skies. Hundreds of thousands more of our neighbors, friends, and loved ones would be victims of cancer, heart disease, and asthma.
Ireland was an idyllic place for us as children. We had all these cousins and all this green countryside. Given what I’ve written about rural Ireland, my memories of it are all blue skies and endless play.
I’m good in summer. My birthday is in summer. I don’t like it when it’s too hot, but, you know, blue skies, I think people genuinely loosen up a bit, and it’s nicer.
Living your life 40 floors up, looking out every day on ocean and skies, you see the world from a different point of view. It’s like living in a very interesting fishbowl, but since no one can see up here, it’s like a fishbowl with a limo tint.
The word of the oldest of the old of our peoples didn’t stop. It spoke the truth, saying that our feet couldn’t walk alone, that our history of pain and shame was repeated and multiplied in the flesh and blood of the brothers and sisters of other lands and skies.
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