Oil On Our Hands

My first job with a real paycheck was working for my grandfather's surveyors, surveying land where that had been strip mined. I remember the nauseating sulfur smell of the land that sickened me at lunch time. I remember the run off of purple, blue and yellow water. Tiny pine cuttings struggled to root themselves in earth that had been destroyed. They were planted in a known or unknown lie of reclamation. And, now the destructive attack of oil in the Gulf, sometimes called a "spill". It is a gusher of unknown force against nature. I can not get the turtles, birds and out of work fishermen out of my mind. It results from lack of discipline and greed. There was a better way to extract the oil and make a reasonable profit. But, only profit was considered. How much can be made? The losses are incalculable. No discipline. It seems that no one cared. We all have oil on our hands.

Written June 20, 2010