WEATHER STATIONS

I often felt angry over the poisoning of my river. I would sometimes see dead fish in
the water, in the area around drain outlets. Or oil and paint trails drifting downstream
with the current. In those days, I would not have considered that the environmental
damage done to my river could be stopped. I felt powerless. My parents were powerless.
My community did not have a voice that could be heard. All we had was our anger. An
awareness of environmentalism was an impossible notion. Today, so many of us are
aware. And we are also more informed. There are also outlets for us to articulate and
express our concerns. And yet many of us feel equally powerless.
Why is this so? I cannot provide an answer here. It is, though, a central idea in my
thinking and writing for the Weather Stations project.
We left the river and went to the Salvation Army shop in Abbotsford. Nina bought
a woollen cardigan, and I picked up a t-shirt and running top. I’ve been going to ‘opshops’
for more than 50 years. I love the smell of the places. They smell of life, or use
rather than refuse. We stopped for one last photo opportunity outside another house
I lived in during the 1970s. Nina asked if I had enjoyed living in the house. ‘Yes. I was
happy here. We were never far from the water.’
The house had been seriously renovated and would fetch a packet at auction. I
remember walking by the house many years ago when it was being fixed up. I was angry
then also. When we rented the house, it had holes in the roof, the walls and the floors.
The rising damp reached the ceiling, and the only hot water was supplied by a ‘chip
heater’. I was annoyed that it took someone with money to make the house decent to
live in.
I don’t think that way any longer. I’m simply happy that this is one childhood home
of mine that was not bulldozed for some grand scheme. There was a kid’s bike on the
front verandah, and a muddy pair of gardening boots. There are children in that house,
playing and crying and sleeping. There is somebody living in that house who turns
their garden over and clips their roses and sits on a chair on the front verandah in the
afternoon sun. I hope they love their house.
34 WEATHER STATIONS: WRITING CLIMATE CHANGE