Randall Van Nostrand

I was a shy kid. My parents used to make me do things like dial the operator to ask for a number so I’d get better at talking to people.

My father was a play publisher which meant he saw a lot of plays for work. On nights Mom opted to stay home, he’d take me or one of my sisters. If the play was bad we’d sneak out at intermission to get ice cream sodas. There was a candy store in our neighborhood called Pops that had a counter with red vinyl stools. When Pops- yes, that’s what everyone called him- brought our sodas, Dad would push his hat back on his head like a reporter and grin. I don’t remember talking much, though we may have. I was always a little nervous around him, hoping he’d like me.

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Growing up I spent hours tucked behind furniture or hidden in closets reading. There were a lot of, Oh, there you are comments and small surprised sounds. No one ever knew where they’d find me. It was a different time back then. Parenting was looser, kids had more freedom, boredom was a constant possibility.

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What scares me now is climate change. If I’m honest, and why wouldn’t I be, it makes a part of me long for a quiet closet with a flashlight and a good book. Of all the challenges facing us today--and there are many--nothing’s more dire. The loss of everything is so big and awful it makes my heart spin. What if we’re the last people to see a polar bear or coral reef? How can we stand by as the planet’s inhabitable spaces grow uninhabitable? How can we let the convenience of plastic wrappers be more important than oceans? If we don't act fast to stem the harm, nothing else will matter. My dad died before we were this aware of what was happening to the planet. I wish he were here now. It would be good to talk with him about it.

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