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Modern Love: When climate change unravels your relationship

2023-04-03T15:19:14.069Z


Everything was going great until I told him to change his kerosene lamp for a led light. My boyfriend and I had been dating for six months when we had the worst fight of our relationship over the carbon footprint of a kerosene lamp. We had finished dinner in the cozy cabin of his sailboat and were about to start a game of gin rummy to determine who would do the dishes when Doug stood up and hit his head on the kerosene lamp hanging from the ceiling. He cursed as the lantern swung ba


My boyfriend and I had been dating for six months when we had the worst fight of our relationship over the carbon footprint of a kerosene lamp.

We had finished dinner in the cozy cabin of his sailboat and were about to start a game of gin rummy to determine who would do the dishes when Doug stood up and hit his head on the kerosene lamp hanging from the ceiling.

He cursed as the lantern swung back and forth, spilling kerosene onto the table.

I teased him about tripping over the lamp almost every night, wiped the stain with a greasy rag, and told him about a book I'd read that listed kerosene as one of the dirtiest fossil fuels

.

“I guess we should buy another flashlight,” I told him.

"Maybe one with led light."

“I love this lamp,” she replied, leaning over me with a match to relight the wick.

The lamp glowed for an instant, then dimmed;

its warm yellow light filled the cabin.

Reading by the light of that kerosene lamp was like going back in time.

She filled the cabin with nostalgia for a time she had never lived in, when sailors sailed by the stars and burned whale oil for light.

I often wished I had a headlamp when Doug asked me to read aloud to him on the couch;

my already poor eyesight was no doubt made worse by squinting in the dull glow of the flickering wick of the lamp, but it was all very romantic.

Reading

Jack London

stories to my lover, with his head in my lap, the sailboat rocking gently on the waves, the canine bark and burp of a hundred sea lions under the distant pier...he was right, it wouldn't be the same under a led light.

Even so, I told him about what I had read, about how kerosene pollutes more than almost any other fossil fuel and releases carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide, both of which are terrible for indoor air quality.

I told him about initiatives in Africa to replace kerosene lamps and stoves with solar energy, because it was poisoning people and giving them asthma, cancer and other terrible diseases.

I stumbled upon some data.

She had listened to the audiobook and, although she had been convinced that the flashlight was bad, she did not quite understand the details.

Doug sensed my hesitation, and I could hear the doubt in his voice as he said,

“This really

doesn't look polluting

.

There is no soot and no smell.

I think it's okay".

He sat down and began to deal the cards, but I pushed mine away.

“It is one of the most polluting fossil fuels that can be consumed.

And it would be very easy to change it.

You probably wouldn't even notice, other than maybe we could actually see at night.

Why are you so resistant to doing something that is definitely better for the Earth?”


“I don't care about the carbon footprint of a measly flashlight,” he replied.

"I like it and I'm not going to get rid of it."

“I hate that you're so listless,” I told him.

"You are making a fool of yourself," he replied.

He had a high, strong voice that I had never heard before.

At that point, I blurted out a generalization about privileged men and their lack of empathy, and he was furious that I was turning the discussion into a

judgment about his character

and that I had gotten upset over nothing.

I tried six different ways to explain why this was important to me and why the imminent collapse of the natural world should be enough of an explanation for why I was angry, but it was with anger in my voice and I wasn't expressing myself

well

.

He kept saying over and over again that he didn't understand why we were fighting about this, which made me even more frustrated because he wasn't listening to me.

After an hour of fruitless bickering, I was about to start crying.

The situation seemed totally

irreconcilable to me.

He knew he had gone too far, but he couldn't stop.

Doug is certainly not apathetic when it comes to the environment.

He has spent most of his adult life in the field of marine conservation, working as a research diver collecting data on kelp forests and, most recently, collaborating with National Geographic on their Pristine Seas Project, which has helped

create

26 one of the largest marine reserves on the planet.

It was our common love of nature that brought us together in the first place:

We met on a 20-day rafting trip through the Grand Canyon.

Still, I was concerned that the big problems in the world didn't seem to affect Doug in the same way that they did me.

Our political leanings more or less coincided and we shared similar dreams for the future, so I didn't understand how he managed to live his life without succumbing to the same existential fear and rage that tormented me.

I envied her ability to be at peace in such an imperfect world and, at the same time, resented the privilege that allowed her to feel this way.

And instead of explaining all this to him, I had

fought

over a lamp.

It was at this point that Doug said that the lantern might not even have kerosene for fuel.

He knew he'd bought the fuel at Ace Hardware, but he wasn't sure what it was.

We pushed a cushion off the couch and took the fuel bottle out of the storage compartment.

The words “

paraffin lamp oil

” appeared in green block type on the front.

When I googled it, I learned that paraffin lamp oil is more refined than kerosene and also free of many of its impurities, so it burns relatively clean with fewer pollutants, and the added bonus of not having the unpleasant smell of kerosene.

I looked at Doug, stunned, then stormed out onto the deck to wash the dishes.

It was clear he had lost, but when you spend an hour arguing about a kerosene lantern that doesn't even run on kerosene, no one wins.

The next morning I woke up embarrassed, anger turned to regret after a night of insufficient sleep.

He had to go to work, where he would spend the day doing tedious manual labor for a local land conservation trust.

We were working to restore native plant

communities

to sensitive dune habitat on the California coast, a cause I no doubt believed in, but the job would leave me a lonely eight hours to repeat every sentence of my unfounded argument.

Doug offered to take me to the dock in the boat, but I told him to go back to sleep, I'd go on the paddle board.

The sun had just crested the harbor hills and the water was a sheet of glass.

The fishermen had left before dawn and the tourists and bathers had not yet arrived, so the harbor was quiet, apart from the small waves breaking on the sand and the occasional splash of a pelican.

I strapped on the paddle board and climbed the rickety ladder to the dock, where I pulled out my cell phone and texted him:

"I'm sorry".

Six months later, we were heading south with the wind in our sails, heading for Mexico.

For eight weeks we sailed from Puerto San Luis to Puerto Vallarta and covered almost 2,254 kilometers at an average speed of five kilometers per hour.

Along the way, Doug taught me how to gauge wind speed, set a course, and trim sails.

He taught me about kelp forests, the Madden-Julian Oscillation, and the migratory patterns of whales.

He taught me how to dive for scallops, how to load a speargun, and how to clean and fillet a fish when I finally caught one.

He had me jump overboard in the middle of the Pacific, where the water was

2,000 feet deep

, to swim with stingrays.

As we slowly made our way south, Doug reminded me why I had joined the environmental movement.

The environmental awareness that is part of her life has been fueled by her wonder at the natural world, a wonder so pure it is almost childlike.

And while mine started that way, over the years it had morphed into something driven mostly by anger at what we're losing.

Doug loves the ocean and throughout our trip he taught me a million reasons to do so.

That made me love him and want to save him too.

Initiatives that seek to preserve our planet are often fueled by anger and fear, but they can also be fueled by hope.

The simple and joyous life that Doug introduced me to at sea, powered by the wind, sun and ocean currents, gave me hope and reminded me that there is a better way to fight.

c.2023 The New York Times Company

look also

Modern Love: Here lies an odd couple, together for all eternity

Modern Love: Our second date was statistically abnormal

Source: clarin

All news articles on 2023-04-03

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