I’m watching the projections of the BP oil spill’s reach and I’m seeing visages of times along the Coast. I see my extended families standing on their 40 ft boats happy with their harvest of the Gulf’s bounty. I see me and my Grand Dad catching crabs from the pier. I feel the nets as I pull them in from the boat. I feel the weight of the oyster tongs.
I feel the rod jerking as I hooked another King Mackeral. I feel the slickness of mud between my toes as I harvested mudbugs. I smell the air and remember.
I remember the night fishing when we held gigs and torches wading through the waters. You had to see the seabed and decide if it was a soft-shell crab or a flounder. I see my Grand Dad’s face as I handed him a bag of soft-shells. I was also afraid of sea snakes.
I’m afraid that I will not see those moments again in my lifetime.
My little World, our World, has been sacrificed for the oil greed of Amerika. 20,000 miles of canals dug through our wetlands and a no questions asked drilling policy. We stand naked before the storms that will come, and our greatest gift to the Nation is being poisoned. And it was all for oil.
I have had a minimal carbon footprint for decades. I have preached for many years about the ways of this culture. I have done my best and now the oil that many of you so depend upon is technically at my door.
My World is dying.