From The Shores of One Great Lake
One-fifth of the world's freshwater comes with a personal update
Last summer, as my apartment in Brooklyn filled with heat during another sweltering season and my air conditioner sent my electric bill to heights heretofore unseen, I pledged that by the next summer, I would get a new air conditioner.
To be fair to my air conditioner, it wasn’t all his fault. The apartment features a massive, south-facing window which has the benefit of gathering heat like a greenhouse in the wintertime and… gathering heat like a greenhouse in the summer. There are no trees in front of that window either, letting all of the sun shine directly through — and it is the only window in the apartment, preventing the occupant from indulging in one of modernity’s greatest pleasures, which is to open two windows on either side of your residence and get a little cross-breeze going.
The building was built in 1889, out of stone, and retains heat incredibly well (somehow I even feel like it creates its own heat with some sort of Gilded Age magic running through the walls). But I thought that I could get a modern air conditioner, a new air conditioner, one that I didn’t have to keep opening up to clean out the mold, one that could keep the apartment at a comfortable temperature while running a little quieter, one that could be more efficient, one that wouldn’t send my electricity bill to the heavens for 3.5 months each year.
To prepare for this summer, I didn’t replace my air conditioner, however — instead I moved to Chicago.
Let’s be clear: I didn’t move to Chicago to escape the heat. I could probably go on and on about why I did move to Chicago, but it all basically comes down to opportunity — an opportunity to bring my life a little closer to what I hope my life can become. For more details, buy me a beer next time you swing through the Midwest.
But despite the changes in my life, there is one change I do not intend to make — I’m gonna keep doing journalism. I came to journalism to tell stories, but fell in love with the rest of it: getting to speak with wickedly smart and insightful sources, the opportunity to pull back and ask a bigger question, the ability to both critique everyday wisdom and champion everyday people. So I want to share a small selection of the work I’ve done recently.
At Ambrook Research, I’ve gotten the chance to dive into the world of agriculture with recent stories on conflict with vultures, invasive earthworms and, of course, tomatoes.
At Popular Science, I’ve gone big on frogs —
And moths
And at Hakai, I’ve actually gotten into some good news, with a story on seabird recovery…
…that has since been syndicated to The Atlantic, Smithsonian, Reasons to Be Cheerful, and elsewhere.
Now, more than ever, I am hungry to do even more — and, to co-opt some Joni Mitchell, to find new stories, maybe better stories, and plenty, right here along the shores of the Great Lakes.
This week in Chicago, it was hot. It reached over 90 every day between Sunday and Wednesday and, despite a brief reprieve last night, the mercury has once again climbed up that way today. My new air conditioner doesn’t seem to use as much electricity, but it also doesn’t seem to get as cold.
But now, I also have windows on both sides of my apartment, each looking out onto trees. And last Sunday, as the weekend came to a close but the heat wave was just beginning, I took the bus crosstown to Lake Michigan. Underneath a tree, I set up my lawn chair and slipped off my shoes, letting my feet sit in the grass. It was cooler already by the water, and the wind helped even more. Eventually, a summer thunderstorm rolled through over the perfectly flat landscape and over the freshwater behemoth before all of us, but passed to the north of me without more than a drop landing in my vicinity.
Barn swallows dipped and rose on those breezes, chasing the dragonflies that buzzed over the lawn. And then I packed my chair up, and took the bus back home.
Link, scan, passwords...... phooey!
I may just stick to that old invention called a phone.
I don't have your new address. Please send it to me.
Much love, Bubbie