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| 35,000 walrus hauled out on a beach in Alaska |
The link explains why this happened and why its a problem.
And this:
http://www.adn.com/article/20141007/barrows-dramatic-autumn-warming-1979-linked-sea-ice-shrinkage
Last week, meteorologists at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration
announced that this summer - the months of June, July and August - was the hottest on record for the globe, and that 2014 was on track to break the record for the hottest year, set in 2010.
While we can see and feel and record data of the physical results of global warming we have yet to address the problem effectively or even understand the essential problem which can be summed up in a single sentence. When the earth reaches 6 degrees above the norm, methane gas trapped below the ocean and in the earth will turn to gas. A world shrouded in methane is a world headed for extinction, a cataclysmic consequence we find too painful to acknowledge, to scary to say out loud. We focus on what is before us. On the coast of Alaska, Native villages are moving to higher ground because the ice that use to protect the coast from erosion no longer exists. Vineyards in California are relocating to Oregon and Washington in search of water. Seaside homes are getting rebuilt on stilts to outwit storm surges. Stopgap measures all, none of which will keep the temperature from rising.
That is why, at my grandchildrens request I joined them for the climate march in NYC. They needed to be there and old grandma was not going to stand in their way.
The link below will bring you to the NYTimes story of the march with a wonderful slide show. The next link has all the statistics. The last link is drone video. Welcome to the modern age.
On my last day in NY before heading back to Alaska, leaving church early before the last hymn was over to gain some minutes on our estimated time of departure, I reach the street corner to see a blue car with waving arms heading in my direction. As I’m turning this strange sight over in my slow to get it brain the car heads for the curb and I’m surprised to see my daughter smiling out the window. “Quick get in”, she is picking me up to save the 15 minutes it would take me to walk back to the house. In a few short minutes we are caught in hugs, kisses, pictures, goodbyes with my sister and my niece, then, luggage loaded, we pull away with one hour on the clock to reach the city. Only I have one final must-do before I go. My other must-dos were done, time with my dear friend Joyce eating her delicious mussles marinara, a lovely nostalgic filled lunch with my high school class of over 50 years ago, walks to the beach but too cold for a swim. Still on the list, fried egg on a role. Not on a croissant, or scrambled and squared on a biscuit, or processed into a perfect circle on an english muffin. An honest to God regular egg, cracked out of a shell, splattered on a grill, salted, peppered, flipped over, then slid between the two sides of a fresh, untoasted kaiser role. Only a kaiser roll. Haven't been able to get that in Alaska and apparently no where else. Last fall my sister and I rode through New England oohing and aahing at the fall colors and hunting every morning for a fried egg on a roll. None in Vermont, none in NH, none in Mass. On Cape cod a nice waitress, sure she knew better, tried to sell us on a roll I never heard of, some new trendy thing. Didn’t quite cut it. It wasn’t until we got back to Woodstock for the Woodstock film festival and followed my brother to an out of the way corner deli that we found the real thing. Only-in-NY confirmed. So I wasn’t about to leave without my fried egg even with the anxious three-some trying to be patient.
We pull into the first deli and I discover absolutely nothing has changed in the 30 years since I left NY for Alaska. On this Sunday morning at least 10 fried eggs on a roll are lined up before me. When I give my order to the deli lady she has it down before I finish. Standard request she knows by heart. Then I ask for the standard Sunday morning fried egg go-with, The NY Times. “You have to go next door for that.” Something different after all. I give my grandson the money to get the paper while I wait and tell him to hurry so we won’t be late. And deli lady’s eyes wake up. “Late for what?”she wants to know. The march I tell her, we’re going to the march. “What march”? puzzled. So, some people actually don’t know about the march. Hmm. “The climate march, you know, demanding action on global warming.” She actually bristles. Then becomes the perfect embodiment of the current Fox News talking point morphed from the old talking point that its a natural phenomena, which morphed from an even earlier talking point -there is no global warming. “Your wasting your time. Its already happened. You can’t do anything about it.” she blurts. She’s actually bothered. Should I argue I wonder? “Actually there is quite a lot we can do about it and we intend to see it gets done.” I leave her mouth hanging open. Away from the Deli, we zoom up Lakeland Ave., onto Sunrise highway west, merge onto Sagtikos, north to the LIE and into light traffic headed for the city, the road rising up to meet us unencumbered. On the way my grandkids make signs.
Rather than try to get to Columbus Circle on the other side of town where the parade was starting we catch the swarm heading up Park Ave. hoping to turn on 59th and hook up with the parade there. Stopped by the light at 58th we watch the crowd heading for the march. Four guys are pushing a strange looking contraption, some symbol of the earth obviously meant for the parade. And then New York’s finest stationed at the corner start stringing tape across the intersection. We can see down the canyon and sure enough there goes the parade without us, high yellow flags flying. We quick do a u-turn and now we’re racing back down Park only to reach 57th when it shuts down too. Ahead we see the swarm trying to get into 56th. Made it. We turn there, find a parking garage with room near Madison and we’re off on a run with dozens of others.
We inch forward towards the front where the high flying yellow flags are turning onto 42nd, pass huge TV screens showing marchers all over the world, huge banners hanging from high risers, a huge puppet of Mother Earth, her arms spread wide.
And just like that this mass of moving humanity comes to a halt. A testimonial to the power of social media. A text message has gone out from the parade organizers calling for a moment of silence. It actually works. Along the full length of the parade hundreds of thousands of people stand in silence, arm raised in solidarity. After some moments all join in a simultaneous cry for climate justice which echoes off the city walls and we are on the march again.
At 10th and 42nd we reach the front of the parade were Ban Ke Moon from the UN and other dignataries are leading the march but we can't pick them out, they just look like everyone else. I’m thinking if we go all the way to 34th street we’ll be a long way from the car so we get off at 11th and start walking back along the parade route taking in the sight of all the marchers that came behind us as.
About a third of the way back the flavor of the parade changes as we reache the end of indigenous people and their love-your-mother message and came upon the non-profits and NGOs. Schools carrying signs that said “Teach Science,” Universities with signs that said “Divest from fossil fuels”. Many saying ‘There’s no plan(et) B”. Along came a float built like Noah's Ark. It was a coalition of religious groups followed by the Sisters of Mary, the Sisters of Charity, the Marynolls other congregations, Rabbis, Buddist monks. By then we had worked our way up to 59th street. It was getting close to 4:00. But when we looked down 59th street there was no end to the parade in sight. It went all the way back to Columbus Circle and some marchers were only getting started.
Again the flavor changed. You could here it coming. A swell. Incessant drumming and chanting. The we-mean-business crowd. Huge red flags with black fists. The anarchists. The Occupiers. Green Peace. To the chant of Flood Wall Street a 100 foot or more long fabric filled the street and waved up and down, a symbol of high water, the coming flood.
We had a long ride to Philadelphia with 2 teenagers actually concerned about homework not yet done on this Sunday night so reluctantly we had to let it go. All the way down the NJ Turnpike I wondered if there actually was hope.
The video below suggests perhaps.