This page is referenced by:

• 1 2016-05-09T10:47:47-07:00 Man versus Nature 2 Creative Piece by Theresa Mokrzan image_header 265618 2016-06-02T13:54:46-07:00            Joshua and I have been married for six years, but it feels much longer than that. Joshua has been working full-time for WAD Chemicals longer than that. He doesn’t talk much about what he does at work, but every once in a while I catch a news clip about water or food contamination, and WAD seems to come up a lot. For a while I tried bringing up these reports to Joshua, but he would always either deny that WAD had anything to do with it or insist that their overall goal was to develop products to help people, so it was worth the risk. I’m not so sure if I feel the same way, though. We both know that WAD’s agenda is hurting Gramps, and I can pick up on Joshua’s uncertainty.
  
             I wish I could do something to protect our hometown. Gramps’ father moved his family to rural Ohio when he was very young, because he was in need of work and Ohio was in need of corn and soybean farmers. Gramps is the only one of my grandparents who is still living, and unsurprisingly, he has the greatest love for nature and the country out of all of us. Consequently, he reads updates on global warming, air pollution, and other major issues, though it only makes him depressed. Sighing, I headed downstairs to make breakfast for Joshua and I. Joshua was already downstairs staring at the television. My mouth dropped open as I read the big headline roving across the top of the screen: “WAD CHEMICAL PLANT SPILL CONTAMINATES LOCAL LAKE”. Shocked, I listened in disbelief as a reporter stated that the water had been contaminated for some time, and that the toxins were starting to kill fish and other aquatic life.
  
            I slowly put down the cup of water I had been drinking, though my mouth had suddenly gotten very dry. Turning to me, Joshua tried to give reassurance. “Julia, no people have been hurt. WAD needed a place to dispense of their chemicals, but believe me, products that we are working on will definitely improve peoples’ quality of life. The sacrifice of a few fish is more than worth it for that outcome.” I knew that Joshua was trying to be reassuring, but his indifference only made me angry. Our town was polluted, but he didn’t care because he was not going to personally suffer the consequences of WAD’s actions. Had he been convinced by the company that this strategy was justified? Or had he been a supporter of the idea in the first place? I paced for a few minutes, wondering how to react to all this. Then I shoved my feet into my boots and walked down the road to Gramps’ house.
  
            I continued to ponder the situation as I walked. Rumors of water contamination had been circulating for almost a year, but no concrete evidence had ever been found. I thought back to Gramps’ stories about life on the farm. They often involved pigs, chickens, dogs, and his cow, Beth. His later stories involve his separation with them when they got too poor, and had to move to the city. Still a country boy at heart, he would come back to visit the animals, especially his dogs, Clover and Lily, and Beth. While walking the dogs, Gramps would go on scenic walks and drink in the country atmosphere as if his life depended on it. It was these walks that Gramps writes poetry about now, even though he moved back to his hometown when he married Grandma. “I write to preserve the beauty of nature, because I don’t know how long it will last”, he told me once. I knew he would be devastated, though unsurprised, to hear about the contamination of the lake.
  
             I think Gramps’ hope that the majority of people are against the exploitation of nature has been dwindling for a while. Even with all the rumors about water contamination that have been circulating, it doesn’t seem like anyone wants to do anything about it. This is the main thing that gets me. Why doesn’t anyone care? Why is the government allowing this to happen? Many more people live in cities or suburbs than small towns, I know, but we still share the same earth. Joshua says it’s just the American way: business is everything, and making money is the principle concern. Political candidates rarely endorse environmental action because would be costly and distract from “more important goals”. I guess that just means caring for the land you live on is not a tenant of being American. Although it’s un-ladylike, I spit on the ground in disgust.
  
             Today is not the first time Joshua has told me that a few extinct species of fish and animals and empty clearings are a small price to pay for human innovation. However, I must admit that I am having trouble believing that the interest of humans can be separated with the interest of nature. Why do I continue to fill my vehicle with gasoline and emit fuels into the atmosphere knowing full well that I am polluting the air? Why is it that I throw my trash on the sidewalk sometimes when I can’t find a trash can? Why do companies pour chemicals into bodies of water where wildlife dwells? Even though Joshua would never understand it, I feel guilty for being part of a species that trashes the earth so freely. And I feel disgust that although our contaminated water plant is getting media coverage and concern, no one takes a minute out of their day to reflect on the actions that they personally engage in that contribute to these disasters. After all, humans are really animals as well. What makes us think that we, the human race, are better than any other creatures? I am angry at WAD Chemicals, but I am just as angry at myself.
  
              Arriving at Gramps’ house, I glanced through the window. All I could see from that angle was the television, where Mariah from Alliance News was talking about the spill. “So he already knows”, I said under my breath. I didn’t know whether to be relieved that I didn’t have to break the news to him or concerned that he was all alone. Gramps had been diagnosed with a heart condition several months ago, and I suddenly became worried that he would not be able to handle the stress. Tension seizing my body, I knocked on his door. “Come in, come in”, Gramps reluctantly called as I stood awkwardly by the front door. I turned the knob and went in, finding him slumped over photo albums admiring pictures of him with his brothers in the woods. Silently he motioned me over to him. Looking me dead in the eyes, he said, “Julia, I don’t know what can be done at this point. It seems like the lake has been destroyed. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Promise me something, will you? Promise you’ll try to do something to help the environment.” My heart sinking for him, I grabbed his hand, squeezed, and nodded.
  
                                                                                ~ Two months later ~
  
                I hate thinking back to Gramps’ funeral. It turns out that not only Gramps’ heart, but his mind, was sick, and I had vastly underestimated the pervasiveness and intensity of that sickness. A heavy burden of guilt hit me in the gut when I found out about Gramps’ suicide, and has not left since. Guilt that I could have done something to help him, although rationally I know that I couldn’t have. My only consolation as I helped plan his funeral, and later sat in the hard pew of St. Terese of Avila’s Church, was that I wasn’t the one to find his body on the floor, next to his old rifle.
  
              The ceremony itself was a blur. A lot of people nodding their condolences at our family, most of them who I had never seen before, and didn’t believe they were sincere. After the burial, my mother and my aunt Leah, who were Gramps’ only children, went to his house to sort through his things. Neither of them had been to visit Gramps in some time. They rationalized this behavior by saying that it wouldn’t have helped Gramps anyway, but I knew they felt just as guilty as I did for not reaching out more to help him, probably more. I told them that Gramps had been distraught about the contamination of the lake and that we should take some sort of action, but they snorted and said the problem was too big for us to handle and the government would take care of it. Overwhelmed, I walked out of the house without knowing where I was going.
  
  Gramps was the strongest man I have ever known. It pains me to remember how stories of the world he loved so much became too painful for him to reflect on in the last stage of his life. Still, I will always see Gramps as a poet, because of the way that he would tell his stories. When I was growing up, Gramps would write a lot and read me his work, which usually took the form of poetry or short fables. When I was a teenager, he started telling me about events that he has seen and experienced throughout his life. It was then that I started to see that he was incorporating these experiences into his stories when I was a child, as a way of conveying messages that he thought were the most important takeaways to pass down to me. It was one of these stories that I was straining to recall now. It was my favorite poem to hear at bedtime, though I realize now that I never truly grasped the meaning behind it.
  
  On the other side of the crystal water, the sun began to rise
  The man looked upon it, and let out a sigh.
  A lovely meadow with flowers and trees
  seemed to come alive with buzzing of bees.
  He had never seen anything more lovely.
  Then, he opened his eyes.
   
             I’ve always understood that this poem was a description of a dream that he had, but when I was little I was under the mistaken notion that this was a happy poem. I now realized that Gramps had lost hope a long time ago that anyone could do anything for the environment. I desperately needed to prove him wrong. I broke into a run as it hit me where I needed to go. Two miles past Gramps’ house was the forest that he had camped in with his buddies growing up. It was where he went when he needed inspiration. I kept going until I got there. Looking around, I saw empty McDonald’s cups and Kentucky Fried Chicken bins, dead twigs, newspaper shreds, bottles, and aluminum cans littering the ground. I picked up a few bottles, tossed them in the recycling bin, and called Joshua. As I explained my plan over the phone, Joshua sounded a little skeptical, but agreed to help because he understood that it was important to me to honor Gramps in this way, and to fulfill the promise I had made to him.
  
            Twenty minutes later, family, friends and neighbors who had attended the funeral drove their cars in a procession to the woods. They got out, bringing trash bags and mulch with them. Joshua, along with his friends and coworkers, came with saplings an hour later. It took all day to clean up and plant the saplings in areas where deforestation had started to occur, but we restored that area by the end of the day. Somehow, in the midst of the water pollution crisis and Gramps’ death, this simple act ignited some feelings of hope in all of us. Even though we know we cannot bring back Gramps, and we cannot go back in time to before environmental pollution and destruction began, we always have a choice to do something right now. The fates of nature and of man are interconnected, because we all share the planet.
  
                                                                                       ~One month later~
  
            I am happy to say that we were successful in persuading the voters of our county to make Gramps’ favorite area a nature preserve. Even Joshua was happy about it, and I think he is starting to understand the importance of valuing nature along with humanity. He has quit his job at WAD Chemicals and is currently at an interview to be a high school teacher. I pray he gets the job. As for me, I have recently found out that I am pregnant. Even though I often think and plan for the future in my continued advocacy for environmental rights, I have accepted that life works in mysterious ways and its outcomes are uncertain. I resolve to prepare myself as best as I can for what is to come, and do my part to improve this world the way I see fit, all the while recognizing that I don’t have to fix the world single-handedly, nor can I. There are other people who have the same priorities, passions and goals as me, and that is all that I could ever hope for.

  Read Theresa's Artist's Statement